We Must Die To Become True Human

What Is The Heart? A Flower Opening.

Whatever Posessions And Objects Of Its Desires The Lower Self May Obtain, It Hangs On To Them, Refusing To Let Them Go Out Of Greed For More, Or Out Of Fear Of Poverty And Need.

Your Hand Opens And Closes, Opens And Closes. If It Were Always A Fist Or Always Stretched Open, You Would Be Paralysed. Your Deepest Presence Is In Every Small Contracting And Expanding, The Two As Beautifully Balanced And Coordinated As Birds' Wings.

Sell Not Yourself At Little Price, Being So Precious In God's Eyes.

No One Can Tell If I’m Laughing Or Weeping. I Wonder Myself.