Faith is the light of consciousness found in the heart. The price of the ticket into the heart is loss of self. Meditation is the act of faith that leads us on the journey from the head to the heart. It is made as it is felt. It is made in the stillness from which action flows. [. . . .]
You may not know in retrospect the exact point . . . when you lose your fear; it just slips away. There may be a phantom of it left but it has lost its power over you. As your heart dilates, fear dilutes. And then the light of the heart, the light of pure consciousness, the mind of Christ that we find in the heart, illuminates everything. . . .
After meditation: “Lantern” by Annie Lighthart in PAX (Newberg, Oregon: Fernwood Press, 2021), p. 84.
Some evening, almost accidently, you might yet understand
that you belong, are meant to be, are sheltered—
still foolish, but looking out the door with a contented heart.
This is what the king wants and the old man and woman
and even the busy young if they knew, and you have it
by no grace of your own, standing in the doorway.
with loose empty hands. Now your heart lights your mind,
a little lantern bobbing within you,
giving out not thought or feeling but confluence,
something else. On what do you pour out your light?
The wet street is empty, one wren in the yard. Let us
redefine love and wreckage, time and weeds.
Pour out your lantern light on the grass, on the bird,
great and small worlds. Don’t go inside for a long, long time.