Thursday, August 21, 2025
Is sorrow the true wild? And if it is—and if we join them—your wild to mine—what’s that? For joining, too, is a kind of annihilation. What if we joined our sorrows, I’m saying. I’m saying: What if that is joy?
Ross Gay
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The Beatitudes Reflection Series
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The inner voices often clamor like crowded rush-hour trains, each demanding attention with urgency and exhaustion. In such chaos, the courage is not in silencing but in listening — letting each part speak its need before gently inviting stillness. Contemplation liberates me from being a perpetual prisoner of my trains of thoughts and feelings. It is here, in this quiet beyond persuasion, that a fresh kind of knowing emerges — not forced, but given. Such awareness does not deny your feelings; it gathers them toward wholeness, seeking harmony rather than mastery. Whether bowling through subway tunnels of worry or walking barefoot into a garden of quiet, your practice becomes a soft descent — letting go, letting be, letting come. And so, you awaken into a different kind of freedom: one born not from escape but from radical acceptance and luminous presence beneath it all.
Bless you in your holy longing to become fully and freely alive.
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