Look! Look at your body, but not as the body. Look at the body as the soul behind the body, and see it before you. Feel the silence, the peace, the stillness, the love that you are. Nothing is behind you, the whole kingdom in front of you. Sit there, content only by sitting there, anchored in the spirit, watching the world go by.
Then, without noticing, the soul is taken up, the mind paralyzed as a mammoth in ice, seeing the wonders of Wisdom, like the first rays of light in the eyes of a newborn child.
Just as suddenly as you ascended, the mind returns, speechless, hopeless to utter a single meaningful word in description of its journey. Just as the artist sees the wretched impotence of speech regarding even earthly beauty, he takes up the brush in hopes to proclaim his gospel only to create a dank imitation.
So too the contemplative mind paints by his Love! He finds find no glory in his humble service to all since his love is an ashy echo of the heavenly choir still singing in his ears.
Service to all; the only thing from the other side that fits through the door of humility through which he just returned. Service to all people, all moments, all creatures, shaping his life to be come the word by which he preaches, the word whose silent definition is Eternity itself.