Flare Up Like a Flame

Originally posted on Quiet Pilgrim:


This week Ranier Maria Rilke has captured me by the beautiful and mysterious tone of his poem “Go to the Limits of Your Longing” from the Book of Hours:

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
then walks with us silently out of the night.

These are the words we dimly hear:

You, sent out beyond your recall,
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.

Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.
Don’t let yourself lose me.

Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.

Give me your hand.

Longing is one of those things that is both painful and exhilarating—and therefore difficult to understand. By painful, I mean the tension of living in the already, but not…

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Originally posted on Quiet Pilgrim:


There is this assertive presence in my life that has been persistent in both pushing me forward and calling me forth. The best I can do to identify this assertive presence is to call it “longing”—”holy longing” perhaps.

There is a beautiful passage from the book, “The Wounding and Healing of Desire” by Wendy Farley that reads:

Longing is the motion of the heart toward that which it does not or cannot possess. Our deepest desires are not always known to us, but our longings are their light footsteps in the snow. If we follow them carefully, we might be led deeper into the hidden structures of our heart.1

I’m facilitating a small group right now on discernment that draws heavily on the Ignatian discernment process. My spiritual director was telling me recently that all discernment boils down to three steps: observing, understanding, and acting. In my reading and preparation for this…

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The Year of Magical Thinking

Grief it turns out to be a place none of us know until we reach it. We anticipate (we know) that someone close to us could die, but we do not look beyond the few days or weeks that immediately follow such an imagined death. We misconstrue the nature of even those few days or weeks. We might expect if the death is sudden to feel shock. We do not expect this shock to be obliterating, dislocating to both body and mind. We might expect that we will be prostate, inconsolable, crazy with loss. We do not expect to be literally crazy, cool customers who believe that their husband is about to return and need his shoes. In the version of grief we imagine, the model will be “healing.” A certain forward movement will prevail. The worst days will be the earliest days. We imagine that the moment to most severely test us will be the funeral, after which this hypothetical healing will take place. When we anticipate the funeral we wonder about failing to “get through it,” rise to the occasion, exhibit the “strength” that invariably gets mentioned as the correct response to death. We anticipate needing to steel ourselves for the moment: will I be able to greet people, will I be able to leave the scene, will I be able to even get dressed that day? We have no way of knowing that the funeral itself will be anodyne, a kind of narcotic regression in which we are wrapped in the care of others and the gravity of and meaning of the occasion. Nor can we know ahead of the fact (and here lies the heart of the difference between grief as we imagine it and grief as it is) the unending absence that follows, the void, the very opposite of meaning, the relentless succession of moments during which we will confront the experience of meaninglessness itself.

- The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion

Good Omens

It used to be thought that the events that changed the world were things like big bombs, maniac politicians, huge earthquakes, or vast population movements, but it has now been realized that this is a very old-fashioned view held by people totally out of touch with modern thought. The things that really change the world, according to Chaos theory, are the tiny things. A butterfly flaps its wings in the Amazonian jungle, and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. Somewhere in Adam’s sleeping head, a butterfly had emerged.

GOOD OMENS by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

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Claude Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun

Organs and diseases have measurable hado, a subtle form of energy that is easily transmittable and present in all things. In English, hado translates as “wave motion” or “vibration.”

Claude Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun will facilitate the cleansing of your mind, physical body, and fluids of the body. As the water within your body becomes clean, the stress built up around your back will be cleared and your back pain alleviated. Your body will feel light.

Emotional Hado: cleaner heart and body and relief from environmental stress
Physical Hado: lumbar vertebrae (improved back pain)


Love & Gratitude

Dear Dr. Masaru Emoto,

A few years ago, on a quiet Sunday afternoon, Sr. Fids shared with us the story behind these two (well, three) inspiring words: Love & Gratitude.

Your research on the water crystals enlightened us to see life on a different perspective: to listen, with more heart; to speak, with more care; to think, with more love. Thus, creating a healthy well- being for our own and for others too.

Sometimes, during Mutti’s afternoon nap, I would alternately play Himig Heswita songs and your Water Crystal Music. I would like to believe it wasn’t only Mutti who benefited by listening to them.

Love and Gratitude!


Time and again, it’s good to be reminded by the magic of words and their proper usage. Not necessarily the proper application of propositions and verbs. We should put more emphasis on the hado of our words, their vibrations to us, to others, to our surroundings.

It’s a sad fact that when we get caught up with the “real world” and its “real world problems,” we forget and spit out words without any thought for its effects. Everyday is a struggle. But we have been given this gift. As we learn more about the beauty of words, we try to remember this: that if it is not life giving, then don’t. Don’t speak it. Don’t think about it. Do not give life to something that destroys life.


Front Cover: For centuries, people have turned to classical music for its calming and relaxing effects. Internationally acclaimed water researcher Dr. Masaru Emoto has discovered why certain music has healing benefits: Music with appropriate rhythm, tempo, tone, and melody can correct distorted frequencies within our cells, assisting our health and healing.