When we are alone on a starlit night; when by chance we see the migrating birds of autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children; when we know love in our own heart; or when, like the Japanese poet Basho we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash—at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the “newness,” the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance…
The Ancient One: [on magic] You cannot beat a river* into submission; you have to surrender to its current, and use its power as your own. Stephen Strange: I control it by surrendering control?
*Wherein the river is the Spirit Jesus died to release and lives to send unendingly
A forever favorite.
That’s beautiful and freeing. “It doesn’t matter much”
The Ancient One: [on magic] You cannot beat a river* into submission; you have to surrender to its current, and use its power as your own. Stephen Strange: I control it by surrendering control?
*Wherein the river is the Spirit Jesus died to release and lives to send unendingly