Along the paths of forgetfulness, I had reached the point where it had become impossible to reach out to the beginning of any genuine Way.Along
Along the paths of forgetfulness, I had reached the point where it had become impossible to reach out to the beginning of any genuine Way.Along
It is often said that physical death is not the opposite of life.Yet, I feel as if I were the one initiating this revelation.This sentence
Meditating on the Cross is contemplating the power of the SpiritTo transform, to glorify, and to haveAll the heavy, the entangled, the ugly, the stagnating,Spring
There can be no knowledge coming from the exogenous questTo refrain from melting when approaching the Hearth of the Presence.The disciple heating his heart to
On a certain level of silence, there is nothing which can still remainbeside faith and the call from Being.Nothing as powerful, no knowledge as certain
Why do ‘believers” have to be fully obsessed with trying to obstruct Life,To strangle Life between their nervous fingers ? How can we not end
You know, in the secret of your heartAll the ways are joining hands,What do you have to fearFrom abandoning them all,And walking along the Unique
Joining and BowingMy two wrinkled handsI do not know any wilder joy. ©FJ Nov 2021RECUEILS/ ParticipationsTelegram (Publications et Pratique)
I feel gratitude for these concerns, compulsions and circular thoughts that keep arising again and again in my mind,Those mental energies which agitate this mind
Swarms of thoughts,Those who clouded our sights and made us turn in circles in the same psychological neighborhood when we were convinced we could cross
Hishiryo, perfect withdrawalA total faith in tihe spirit blowing at the bottom of non-action, non-thinking,Thy will be done. ©FJ Oct 2021RECUEILS/ ParticipationsTelegram (Publications et Pratique)
There is a point on which spiritual practices and theology are fiercely opposed and where pilgrims are forced to take a direction: Theology, and with
The Cross symbolizes the power of transformationWithin ourselves, Christ, comes to place His handsOn our necrotic tissues, dead bands in our water channelsWhile the ocean
Sitting, in the middle of the prairieBreathing, listening to your breath,Ask yourself the question : where is God ?Here, now, between you and the breathing,Within
I confess the faith I placed in the self-importance,I confess the faith in self-sufficiency. Way of drying upAcross barren fieldsAnd furrow of loneliness and suffering.This