Posts in centuries on love
Guarding the Sanctity of Thought

Take a contemplative journey through a soul's landscape: thoughts as travelers treading across paths of consciousness. The soul, in its pure state, would be the holy of holies of such Divine communion, into which the intellect should go like the pious pilgrim with unwearied steps in the perpetual presence of God, and each thought should be a step of approach to the Holy of Holies.

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Clear Stream

Picture a mountain stream: cold, clear, quickening, its waters flowing like hope from the springs high in the quieting peaks, a rivulet that is very much the mind shorn of all preconceptions, clear and directed, cutting through the undergrowth of spirituality with clear prayer and reflection.

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Shadows to Light

We start to tread the life of a voyager that sails through the stormy waves of existence. Their vessel, in time past, drifted down the current of ordinary desires and was ever prone to the tempests of sin and the whirlpools of transgression. But in youth the compass of the voyager spun like a dervish at Mecca, as if under the strong influence of gales of passion, not the stars of virtue. Memories are of life in a shroud of shadows as if every decision was driving one deeper into the night.

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The Humble Path

There is usually at least one of those moments of profound revelation—when the scale of the universe's grandeur becomes startlingly clear and one's place within it, startlingly small, in the chronicles of seekers and sages. It makes one think of the ancient mariner looking at the expanse of the limitless sea or the astronomer who gazes into the starry heavens with awe at the infinity before him and the subsequent conclusion of his limitation.

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The Anchored Soul

In the rich tapestry of spiritual life, there are many threads that one must weave with care and precision. There is such a fine and insidious thread of the allure of self-esteem: the kind that puffs up, not with a real sense of worth, but with the vanity of one's own accomplishments and spiritual standing. An insidious enemy, who can easily spoil the cloth of our spiritual progress, with his oily mutterings, and false promises of glory.

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Finding the Holy

It is at that moment when every day stands on the very verge of close; it is in the silence of the world, in the time between the whispering day and the hushing of the night. Here in these silent, solitary hours, one can go on a deep journey within, seeking a communion beyond the words. It's time for hunger and vigils, for psalmody and prayer—a time in which, longing for purity, the soul readily embraces the discipline of self-restraint.

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Clear Canvas

Imagine the soul as a clear, blank canvas, still to be colored by the tints of our thoughts and actions. Every stroke, every hue in this canvas of a personality signifies the ideas entertained, the choices, and the actions. When our actions are ignoble and our thoughts are unclean, it is as though we take a brush dipped in muddied colours and soil the canvas with every careless swathe.

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Ultimate Treasures

Within the lore of adventures and dreams of seekers, often exists a legend about a treasure that is by no means alike—a jewel so enormously valuable that it would eclipse all earthly riches. It is said to lie in wait at the end of a formidable journey, through treacherous lands and across daunting seas. Seekers of this jewel, through an insatiable desire, dedicate their very lives to the pursuit, for they know that to have this gem is to be content beyond measure.

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Echoes of the Angels

Imagine a world in which the boundary between celestial and terrestrial was but a whisper and the echo of angelic harmonies resided in daily living within this walk upon the earth. Yonder in this heavenly rhythm stands a soul—a soul that loves God—a life that moves amidst the peace, the devotion of angels.

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The Untroubled Waters of Divine Affection

ake a trip back with me to an ancient, bustling marketplace where the heady combination of spice aromas and barter voices can be inhaled in the very air. Here, traders and travelers haggle over goods—silks, silver, and sundries—each item a temporary treasure, coveted today and forgotten tomorrow. In this buzzing mosaic of human endeavor, there's one soul untouched by the fervor of acquisition, a soul that threads through the stalls and stands with a serenity that seems out of place amongst all the noise.

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