| p33 | Spend a lifetime in bitter fights, minor irritations, and senseless tasks, fed up with the littleness of what you do while longing to bust out, a seed meant to rise up and praise the almighty with its bloom. Or bake a loaf of bread and send the aroma to the one who gave wheat to grow upon the land. The bread too is the babe, the pouring out, the delight, the grateful appreciation to. The relationship. Holy to Holy. Spear the fish and praise the waters who gave this bounty. It seems a little thing. In a life of littleness there is no reflection of the magnitude of the naturalness of appreciation, the voice of the holy to the holy. The babe bequeathed. The new, passing on the hidden language, a pre-language naturalness, the great bowing down of those who stand in awe. Appreciation, gratitude, and praise are the natural abode of the unnameable. The whole of the given world, in the speech of the unnameable, praises the distinct unity that is humanity. Unity bows down to her distinction. Her distinction is the gift of union poured forth. |