There are sacred moments in life when we experience in rational and very direct ways that separation, the boundary between ourselves and other people and between ourselves and Nature, is illusion. Oneness is reality. We can experience that stasis is illusory and that reality is continual flux and change on very subtle and also on gross levels of perception . . .
. . . this mind, through endless kalpas without beginning, has never varied. It has never lived or died, appeared or disappeared, increased or decreased. It's not pure or impure, good or evil, past or future. It's not true or false. It's not male or female. It doesn't appear as a monk or a layman, an elder or a novice, a sage or a fool, a buddha or a mortal. It strives for no realization and suffers no karma. It has no strength or form. It's like space. You can't possess it and you can't lose it. Its movements can't be blocked by mountains, rivers, or rock walls. . . . No karma can restrain this real body. But this mind is subtle and hard to see. It's not the same as the sensual mind. Everyone wants to see this mind, and those who move their hands and feet by its light are as many as the grains of sand along the Ganges, but when you ask them, they can't explain it. It's theirs to use. Why don't they see it? . . . Only the wise know this mind, this mind called dharma-nature, this mind called liberation. Neither life nor death can restrain this mind. Nothing can. It's also called the Unstoppable Tathagata, the Incomprehensible, the Sacred Self, the Immortal, the Great Sage. Its names vary but not its essence.
In the process of working with others you'll experience great growth in yourself, both emotional and spiritual. Your bond with your Heavenly Father will strengthen unmeasurably. This is both a calling and a sacred trust.
And have we now forgotten that powerful Friend? Or do we imagine we no longer need His assistance? I have lived a long time; and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth: that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? We have been assured, Sir, in the Sacred Writings, that 'except the Lord build the House, they labor in vain that build it.' I firmly believe this; and I also believe that, without His concurring aid, we shall succeed in this political building no better than the builders of Babel.
Parting What brought it back to me? I thought that it had fled; Again I sit with thee And watch the twilight red. Far out upon the deep The full moon's light is thrown. This night thou must not sleep; Stay near me, O, my own! How hard for me to know That this must be the last; That duty's wave must flow O'er all the sacred past. Dear heart, what walls that rise Can bar out memory's view, Or hush the poor heart's sighs You'll know are breathed for you? So fair the moon will rise To other eyes than ours, That weep while bitter sighs Stay not the winged hours. Upon the radiant sight, Front out the thronged halls, Like requiem to-night, The entrancing music falls. At last the daylight makes, With rising shafts of gold, Each heart in parting breaks, And duty's wage is told.
Augusta Joyce Crocheron (1844 - 1915)
Source: a collection of poems, Wild Flowers of Deseret