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Stories...

We are so caught up in our own brief stories that we think we are the measure of things. The Earth has a story of her own, immeasurably longer and deeper than any of ours, or even our collective story as a species. We come and go and Earth abides. But like us creatures, the planet changes continually, ever becoming and unbecoming. For every birth there is a death, every building up eventually subsides into collapse, every rising brings on a fall. Night and day, winter and summer, sorrow and joy, there can never be one without the other. Life truly does hang in the balance. We are always dancing in the dragon's mouth, oblivious to every thing but our one precious terrible or glorious moment. Whenever and wherever you can, as much as you are able, rejoice in it and give thanks that you are here. Henry's books .

Things happen...


These days, things happen with increasing frequency that remind me of my temporary status as an active participant in the goings-on of the world. So I find comfort in the continuance of relatively brief and passing things, clouds, the light of a winter afternoon, the turning of the seasons.

Yet, forever changing, the earth, the sky, the trees abide. Always there, bearing witness to creation. Bodies age, come apart, lives flicker past like the leaves that bud in spring and fall in autumn, like the snowflake that melts on an outstretched palm. Yet they keep becoming endlessly from the everliving Soul who births all being.

Henry's books.

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