We have sailed out into the islands, great brown rock towering above or laying streched to the horizon. It is beyond dreams that I would one day sail among the Greek islands but that is exactly where I find myself. We landed at Milos late yesterday afternoon, a long white islnad with the “best harbor in all the Mediteranian” here for five days of rest. We are on the southern side oriented to the N 28°, the winds stiff, out of the north. The sea is cobalt, at four feet and cresting. My lover sleeps soundly, the coffee ok, I have read the Ancient Text, listened and talked to The Ancient of Days, and now sit quietly with my heart and soul filled with the wonders of the last few days.
Nothing prepares one for living on earth. Its beauty and mystery both revive and mystifies. How can this be? How can every part, large and small be so endowed with beauty, so perfectly suited for me as I am made? No matter where I turn, where I go, there beauty is, there is more color, more form, more sincerity of being. And I leave and it is there left behind only to be replaced by more and more. It is the greatest epic of all time on a set that isn’t built but just is, a perfect set, and us, being alive, perfect players. Oh our earth, a stage of equisite splender but us so much more spledid. It is powerfully painful because one is not normally so alive, so very much alive. An awareness of the Divine casts one upon one’s face.
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| from my moring window in Milos |
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