meadow sapling…

10 11 2018

 

 

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I sit again at meadow’s edge.

A sapling reaches just above wildflowers and weeds.

Day to day, it does not move –

soaking in the sun’s joy;

bending to the storm’s gale;

bathing in life-giving rain;

standing introspectively in a snow-covered field.

Accepting what each moment offers…

knowing all leads to the hope and trust of the next moment.

 

Waiting.

Being what a sapling is…a tree –

yesterday, tomorrow, in this moment now.

Gifting oxygen to the likes of me.

Offering hospitality to its meadow community.

 

I wonder…

what difference would it make

if my soul were more like this meadow sapling?

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keep listening

3 11 2018

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My ten-year old heart could not grasp the paradox –

a not so holy, holy war:

sanctuary and refuge threatened;

being church at the edge of dis-grace;

unquestioned trust…tenuous.

 

A kind-hearted man –

his distant story…a nuptial relationship broken.

Offering to teach others from his love of the Beloved.

But for some, an “unclean soul” teaching in sacred space.

 

but aren’t we all…unclean (by human definition)?

 

Yet, “some” would rather wallow in fear, hate, and power –

hiding behind rules.

The small, reptilian brain engages –

sides taken;

angry words spoken;

power wielded (but not real power)…

living the gospel avoided.

Condemning the one the Beloved loves as broken.

 

I’ve been broken too . . .

You?

 

And what of Jesus?

Healing on holy days;

eating with those excluded;

touching the untouchables;

Truth telling – rejected in his own sacred space;

teaching from his love of the Beloved;

labeled “criminal” by those who would rather wallow in fear, hate, and power…

Those hiding behind rules.

 

Fear sacrificed Love then –

fear would seek to do the same today.

Fear chooses legalistic doctrine over emancipating Love –

because it feels safe;

because it preserves power;

because it shelters one from living into the depths of what Love invites…

intimacy with the Beloved.

 

Fear narrows, Love creates.

Fear excludes, Love includes.

Fear chokes, Love lets go.

Fear holds desperately to its own life, Love loses its life in order to find True Life.

 

This is the Mystery.

This is the pain.

This is the joy.

This is the paradox.

Love sacrificed births Love exponentially.

 

My ten-year old heart kept listening…

Keep listening…





light on a slant…

13 10 2018

Foothills Parkway

I sit – the late afternoon sun kisses my face;

backlit cerulean clouds lingering, encircled by a transcendent halo.

It is late September and the sun falls on the earth at a slant.

Angled light bathing golden asters, hummingbirds, butterflies…

sweet, Holy Light.

 

I become very aware – sunlight saturates me as well.

 

And as Light on a slant does,

deeper questions are revealed –

Will I risk grieving the loss of who I think I am

for the truth of who I truly am?

Or is remaining in defined, confined aspirations

worth the loss of what I most desire?

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So many words…

28 09 2018

So many words being spoken today…

In Ireland, Iran, North Korea, Netherlands, Russia, Rwanda, Malaysia, Mexico, Bahamas, Burundi, Kenya, Kuwait, United States, and United Nations…

In courts, in state houses, in congress, at the White house, in politics…

Within religious communities, within businesses, and within schools…

On TV, on radio, on social media, on our phones…

In my house, in my family, in my head, in my heart…

 

I wonder if there is as much listening?

I hope so…

Friends Chairs





just wait…

21 09 2018

Patience has no patience when it comes to filling what is empty.

Inward scarcity is seen as foe, not friend.

So, “Fill it up! Fill this inner void…quick!”

 

Fill it by feeding on love outside myself – love I cannot seem to give myself.

Fill it with counterfeit belonging  that melts like cotton candy in the mouth,

sweet for a time…only for a time.

Fill this painful desolation with unhealthy relationships.

Fill the emptiness with the tentative security of hard, dualistic parameters.

Fill this scary abyss with habits that will surely heal me.

Hurry, fill it with fear…at least it’s something.

 

What do we sacrifice in our haste?

What do we trade when we barter with impatience?

Addiction?

Temporal soothing?

Trading deep belonging for shallow security?

 

Maybe waiting is the healing salve?

Waiting…

even in emptiness;

even in darkness;

even in the panicked feeling of needing to fill what is a void.

Waiting for what is True – for what is authentic;

Coming to see the paradox of it all…

we are never truly empty.

 

So wait…

You are worth it.

You are loved by Love – you just are.

It will come.

You will not fall endlessly into the emptiness you fear.

 

Just wait…hold on

True Love – for self, for others, for creation – will come.

Even what seems empty can be welcomed as potential.

Just wait…

I’ll wait with you…

foggy morning





depth’s longing…

14 09 2018

From what depths does this longing flow?Gettysburg Fence

What secret story do my tears wish to share?

I am not sure of where I am going…

I am not sure of who I am…

 

 

Maybe this is the beginning of an end?

Maybe this is the end of a beginning?

I stand outside myself – a visitor.

Is this the “losing myself” I was taught early Sunday mornings?

In losing myself, will life be gained?

 

I am trying to live this moment – this now.

I am trying to “consider the goldenrod of the meadow” where I sit.

I am trying to trust the soft vibrations of a deep, Loving conversation.

I am trying to trust the unknowing woven into my living.

 

Worries would have me believe they are masters of the now –

dislocate me from this moment;

deliver me to the regrets of yesterday;

have me wallow in the anxieties of tomorrow.

 

Love, though, is immediate –

the Creator of each moment.

Love, a river, flowing – always…

through me…through you.

What a laudable reality.

 

So within this nameless longing;

within this craving for deep awareness;

I learn – to let go…

to let the now be what it is;

to notice the miracles around me now:

raindrops,

music,

friends,

the sound of my hand drawn across my unshaven face,

my breath…

Love.

 

And in this prayer poem, I am changed.

 





there is a Way…

24 08 2018

 

Little River Stairs

Can I be with myself – in quiet?

In this silence?

No sound but my breath;

no noise to distract me from myself.

 

Will I allow myself to be in this stillness?

Addictive anxiety pulsing through my veins –

my monkey mind swinging

thought to thought to thought.

 

What keeps me from stepping through stillness’ door?

Knowing I will become aware of Truth?

Sensing ego’s scheme will be unveiled and challenged?

Fearing my safe god will be exposed?

 

And what has become my god?

To what earth-tethered objects do I attach my self?

To what desperate motives do I cling?

 

I worship at the altar of pleasing other –

egotism my established religion.

I am a faithful follower.

 

I practice my self-serving faith – daily;

worshipping societal gods – daily;

believing salvation will come through my own devices – daily.

 

Freedom, though, is no closer than the day before.

Beliefs have no marrow – empty and hollow;

love a measured possession.

 

I am mortal…impermanent.

I cannot come to authentic self by my own sovereignty –

although ego would like to think so.

 

But there is a Way…

welcoming my monkey mind for what it is

then letting go – ten thousand times…letting go.

 

There is a Way…

Not pushing – but waiting;

Not striving for – but resting in;

Not me – but we.

 

There is a Way…

Being with myself in quiet – in silence…

knowing the Way perpetually with me.

 

There is a Way…

Inside each breath –

within each chest rise and fall.

 

There is a Way…

Through the fear of what I might discover…

within what terrifies me most.

 

There is a Way…

Abiding within stillness

when a noise saturated world entices and beckons.

 

Can I be with myself – in quiet?

In this silence?

There is a Way…