Only the clear see clearly. The pure of heart see God. I once knew a translucent person, an old nun, thin as an altar candle, eyes like flames. She was completely clear; she harbored no lie. And the lies in me? She saw right through them. She made me feel like water. She could see to the bottom. I could not have hidden myself from her, I did not try; I did not want to. Only the old ones can be pure. Only the ones over whom the sands of life have passed a thousand times, sands driven by rain, sands heavy with the sea, sharp sands, the many-sided crystals. They wear us down. They change our shape. Finally, only the soul remains, round, bright, clear, and shining in our eyes.
First published in my book, FINDING STONE: A QUIET PARABLE AND SOUL-WORK MEDITATION. Innisfree Press. 1996.


Comments: 12
much love,
me
I've made this the Lead Feature in Famous Firsts and Not So Famous Firsts.
Lucie, I didn't know that about the refining of silver -- what a profound image/metaphor for the spiritual life--the reflection of the divine.
I studied in a missionary school at Baroda, India -and we indeed had a male version to this translucent nun there, Fr. Whitely, from Australia. Not only he had a transparent persona he could see through us all. Astonishing man, possessing a level of simplicity that each one of us wonder why couldn't we be more like him...
Thanks for posting this pithy masterpiece. This sheer poetry in prose form!
Cheerz!