When I am constantly running there is no time for being. When there is no time for being there is no time for listening. I will never understand the silent dying of the green pie apple tree if I do not slow down and listen to what Spirit is telling me, telling me of the death of trees, the death of planets, of people, and what all these deaths mean in the light of the love of the Creator who brought them all into being; who brought me into being; and you. This questioning of the meaning of being, and dying, and being, is behind the telling of stories around tribal fires at night; behind the drawing of animals on the walls of caves; the singing of melodies of love in spring, and of the death of green in autumn. It is part of the deepest longing of the human psyche, a recurrent ache in the hearts of all of God’s creatures.

Madeleine L’Engle from Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith and Art, one of my most favorite books from one of my most favorite writers.

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