Sacred Sensing

I open my eyes to colour and light: blooms, feathers, leaves and patterns in trees gossamer webs and intricate insects on the move, ants scurry as people hurry busy as bubbling becks. Then comes the night with points of light and secrets of shadows. I listen, attending to whispers of wind, the sound of the sea, of shore scouring foam, the joy of birdsong, buzzing and barking, tools and machines, intrusions of traffic, rhythms and tunes, voices of friends, of kin. Then stillness, time for resting and dreams. Aroused: aware of tips of me tingling, senses awake to stimulus of taste, to tenderness of touch. With heart hungry for meaning – to discern hurts and delights, learning through sharing, with stories to weave, creating a narrative that is my life. I sense as if Jesus walks alongside, as if his stories with mine now collide then interweave, as I seek the Sacred, with narrative still to be drafted. On this meeting with mystery I ponder the Divine, alive with hope and wonder.