The Dog Knows, But Does

Since Once Again, O Lord, In The Steppes Of Asia, I Have No Bread, No Wine, No Altar, I Will Raise Myself Above Those Symbols To The Pure Majesty Of Reality, And I Will Offer To You, I, Your Priest, Upon The Altar Of The Entire Earth, The Labor And The Suffering Of The World.

We Had Thought That We Were Human Beings Making A Spiritual Journey; It May Be Truer To Say That We Are Spiritual Beings Making A Human Journey.

Without You, Without Your Onslaughts, Without Your Uprootings Of Us, We Should Remain All Our Lives Inert, Stagnant, Puerile, Ignorant Both Of Ourselves And Of God. You Who Batter Us And Then Dress Our Wounds, You Who Resist Us And Yield To Us, You Who Wreck And Build, You Who Shackle And Liberate, The Sap Of Our Souls, The Hand Of God, The Flesh Of Christ: It Is You, Matter, That I Bless.

My Starting Point Is The Fundamental Initial Fact That Each One Of Us Is Perforce Linked By All The Material Organic And Psychic Strands Of His Being To All That Surrounds Him. . . . If We Look Far Enough Back In The Depths Of Time, The Disordered Anthill Of Living Beings Suddenly, For An Informed Observer, Arranges Itself In Long Files That Make Their Way By Various Paths Towards Greater Consciousness.

There Is Almost A Sensual Longing For Communion With Others Who Have A Large Vision. The Immense Fulfillment Of The Friendship Between Those Engaged In Furthering The Evolution Of Consciousness Has A Quality Impossible To Describe.