An excerpt from Prayers from a Nonbeliver (c)2003
by my onetime student, Julia Cameron. DBM

Alright, I have opened up the door.

I have not seen a burning bush, but maybe
I have put out the lit cigarette of cynicism smoldering in the sofa of my consciousness.
And maybe I have seen the flicker
of something higher and brighter,
a little like a firefly: now you see it,
now you don't. That's faith, I suppose,
some tiny start on it.

More than a sense of anything massive
and solid I feel more like those first notes of a symphony about spring. I hear
the birdsong of the flute. I sense change
is afoot, and the huge orchestra swelling
of a life made anew will come later.

Today it's just the hyacinth bud pushing
its nub of green upward through the cold earth. That's enough. There will be spring.
There is spring if I don't get greedy
and demand a whole riot of flowers
all at once.

A lot of the changes You have wrought
are so small they are like that first faint greening on the trees - almost a vapor
of green, a vapor of change and hope...


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