Reclaiming the sacred in our lives naturally brings us close once more to the wellsprings of poetry.

I have risen to a body not yet born, existing like a light around a body through which the body moves like a sliding moon.

We make the path by walking.

The models of adulthood are disappearing fast. How can two people have a new marriage if neither of them is an adult?

The body weeps the tears the eyes never shed.

We know that the adult in a certain sense has an attitude toward life exactly opposite to the attitude of commercials. Commercials say, 'Your longing for 3.2 beer is very important. Your longing for skin that doesn't have any wrinkles in it, that's very, very, very important.' The adult says, 'No, I've got wrinkles, so what?'

The inner boy in a messed-up family may keep on being shamed, invaded, disappointed, and paralyzed for years and years. "I am a victim," he says, over and over; and he is. But that very identification with victimhood keeps the soul house open and available for still more invasions. Most American men today do not have enough awakened or living warriors inside to defend their soul houses. And most people, men or women, do not know what genuine outward or inward warriors would look like, or feel like.