Breathe

”Dieu, mon dieu … God, my God …”
“Le distance entre nous … The distance between us …”
“N'est-ce pas tolerable … Is unbearable …”

So wrote the sorrowing young poet Raissa Maritain,
Near a hundred years ago.

So cries the wounded heart, under the blinding weight
Of its unbearable sorrow or pain,
Having suddenly concluded itself to be in a condition of separation
From the Source, the One, the Strength, the Hope, the Promise.

But it is such an unfortunate misunderstanding, ma cherie,
Springing as it does from the understandable error of
Thousands of generations of humans,
Who, marveling at the grandeur
And unreachableness of the sky,
Are thereby convinced that “up there” is the homeplace
Of that which is the Source, the Power, the Immense, the Life.

And so it follows that we humans,
And everything else we know of, are “down here”,
Essentially separated from The One.

But I am here to tell you, my dear, that it is not possible.
“Ce n'est pas possible.”
There can be no separation.
“Up there” is merely a part of All-that-is,
As you are also a part, an integral part, of All-that-is.

It is as impossible as to separate the warmth or the light from the fire,
Or the eternal blue from the sky,
The deep perfume from the rose,
The soft pink blush from the child's sleepy cheek,
The comfort from the loved one's embrace.

You see ?
An old error to be uncovered and cast away:
There can never, ever, never be separation.

Do you breathe ?
Eternal strength in,
Immeasurable creativeness out.

Always.
Now and forever.
No separation,
For you are an integral part if All-that-is.

Breathe, ma cherie, breathe.