Peace Casting With Jesus

Thinking about waiting, about patience, about healing, about miracles, and about my own experience and expressing all the creative ideas that are coming to me "In the Patience."  Self patience (being my own patient)  in the idea of healing myself is a resonating idea with me right now.  Last night as I was dancing, the thought came to me that I am entertaining myself all the time.  Like playing with myself.  Being patient in everything I am letting go of to experience who I really am as a holy Son of God.   And the art exercises are teaching me alot about myself.  Not doing the activities  for any external goal or evaluation but just enjoying myself without criticizing  myself or entertaining any concerns of  say former moralholicness! (that was a new word that came to me too!).  It certainly takes myself lots of practice to step out of those old habits and ideas. So for me these activities are prooving to myself to be healing while also meditative and or contemplative.  Practicing this patience with myself of course extends also to my brother, as One self, whereever I find myself.   Really being inspired through ideas coming through the One Mind, or the One Self!  So Perfectly!  

Praise God from Whom All Blessing Flows!

Below I share a poem that I have always loved.  I first heard this poem mentioned in one of the tapes of Joel Goldsmith several years ago and have loved it ever since.  Making creative expressions with the ideas a  couple of times, although I haven't kept them, but did recalled it again today so I share the words below..  It was written in 1863.

 Serene, I fold my hands and wait,
    Nor care for wind, nor tide, nor sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
    For lo! my own shall come to me.

I stay my haste, I make delays,
    For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
    And what is mine shall know my face.

Asleep, awake, by night or day,
    The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my bark astray,
    Nor change the tide of destiny.

What matter if I stand alone?
    I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
    And garner up its fruit of tears.

The waters know their own and draw
    The brook that springs in yonder height;
So flows the good with equal law
    Unto the soul of pure delight.

The stars come nightly to the sky;
    The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
    Can keep my own away from me.