It's hot today, and the Phoenix newscasters have issued the necessary warnings for avoiding heatstroke and death. Of course it's not that hot in Sedona, but it's hot enough that I have retreated to the air conditioned comfort of my diminutive dining room to catch up on my my e-mail and continue my job search. Through my window I see only dog-walkers who have no choice but to give their pets a chance to relieve themselves; there's a lady I've seen before, khaki shorts and a straw hat, lagging behind an elderly spaniel, dutifull scooping its poop. That's love. I could really fall for a woman that followed me around like that. No . . . really.
I'm not looking for love, any more than I am looking for air. But, allowing for my frailties, I sometimes need to remind myself that I still need to open my mouth, and breath. That is to say, I am already immersed in love, if I can only realize the fact. I'm recalling the edict of Kahil Gibran to not say "God is in my heart" but instead, "I am in the heart of God." This brings me to one of the primary reasons for my pilgrimage to Sedona. I have always been conscious of the need to have a vibrant spiritual life, and increasingly conscious over the past few years that for me, a spiritual re-awakening is past due. In this town, there is no excuse to deny the need for spiritual well being.
So, on Sundays, I (literally) drive past the crystal shops, past the psychics and the fortune tellers, and past the animists and the urantia meetings, to get to the Unity church. And on Monday I'm still a little blissed out. It's a remarkable community, and my best wish is that I can bring something real to this group that might match a fraction of what they have given me already.
Still on the road to find out; more later.
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