May 20, 2013

common bush afire

Someone asked me, recently, what I write on my blog.  I wasn't sure how to answer:  recipes?  accounts of rural mundanity?  mid-life angst?  I read one of my posts to her, and she answered her own question:  "You make the ordinary holy," she told me.  And I thought of this poem:




Earth's crammed with heaven,

And every common bush afire with God;



And only he who sees takes off his shoes;

The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.


Elizabeth Barrett Browning





I want to be one of the ones who sees, and takes off her shoes, knowing the ground I am on (mundane though it may seem) is holy, afire with God.

I pray to see the fire, and not miss it for the commonness of the bush.



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