In the wee hours I often admire my husband’s muscular back, giving thanks for its “surest protection” like the “resplendent mountain,” I recently discovered in a 13th-century spiritual memoir by a German mystic. Mechtild de Magdeburg wrote surprisingly carnal—bordering on erotic—love poetry, describing her ecstatic experiences of deep, unburdened, and reliably reciprocal physical union with the Divine with all parts of her humanhood: mind, heart, soul and body. Although her manuscript languished undiscovered for centuries, once its unashamedly detailed and passionate dialogues between lovers was translated from low German, it has inflamed imaginations, including mine. Mechtild writes, for example:
“The narrower the bed of love becomes, the more intense are the embraces,
The sweeter the kisses on the mouth become, the more lovingly they gaze at each other….
The more she consumes, the more she has.
The more ardent she remains, the sooner she bursts into flame.
The more she burns, the more beautifully she glows.”
Jean P. Kelly, Intentional Path Media 