Lyrics
Once I told someone who wanted “to understand the Goddess as a spiritual being“ but wanted some actual experience to complement all the books:
Don’t sweat the theoretical theology. Spend some time just living.
Dance. Dance in crowds, with friends, in pairs, or alone. Find a Keltic KAY-lee somewhere, and learn its folk dances. Or watch “Zorba the Greek“ and imitate the steps. Or do Tie Chee Chooan. Dance until you feel the energy running through you like fire. Place your hand upon your chest, over your beating heart, and say to yoursellf:
“This too is alive. This too is divine.“
Sit and hold a cat or a dog, or a child, or a friend, or a lover, warm against you, until they sleep at peace. Feel their breathing, and say:
“This too is alive. This too is divine.“ … … … … … … …
Sit and hold a cat or a dog, or a child, or a friend, or a lover, warm against you, until they sleep at peace. Feel their breathing, and say:
“This too is alive. This too is divine.“
Walk among the plants of a field or forest, park or backyard garden, watching them drink in the sun — and again in moonlight or starlight, hearing small animals calling out to each other, prolific life unseen, until you realize how filled with activity, with sometimes desperate attempts to find (and not become) food, this “still life“ really is. Lie on the grass, or wade into the pond or stream, and say:
“This too is alive. This too is divine.“
Walk among the plants of a field or forest, park or backyard garden, watching them drink in the sun — and again in moonlight or starlight, hearing small animals calling out to each other, prolific life unseen, until you realize how filled with activity, with sometimes desperate attempts to find — and not become — food, this “still life“ really is. … Lie on the grass, or wade into the pond or stream, and say:
“This too is alive. This too is divine.“
Look out sometimes, out and up, to the sun and the moon and the stars. Marvel at the scale, the sheer inconceivable size, of our universe, and the equally incomprehensible scale of the thing we call “time“. Say:
“This too is alive. This too is divine.“
After that, reed any book in your stack. Or none of them. Whatever. … … … … … …
... and even when your body‘s old,
and winter winds blow bitter cold,
then over hearthfire‘s welcome heat
you‘ll lean, and from that fireside seat
your voice will rise to bless the flame;
then, rocking gently, call the name
of all you worship, all you love,
all life on earth, all light above.
This too is dance. This too is song. … … … … …
In all of these you dance along
with everyone who lived upon
the earth — no matter if they’re gone,
their dance continues — and when you
are gone, your dance continues, too. … … … ...
Let those with wit to see the rhyme
within my words, see within time
just such a pattern hidden deep:
within the pendulum‘s slow sweep,
within all fate, within all chance;
for all of time is but a dance. … … … … … ...
