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

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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…

 





Red-Winged Teacher

13 08 2017

CSC_0082edited

Hello my red-winged friend.

Here for our daily visit –

you on your post;

me sitting beside you.

 

You welcome me to your home with a song –

your hospitality soothing;

your flight beautiful across the meadow.

 

Teacher too –

landing on the thinnest of reeds;

trusting that you will be held;

closing your wings, giving up flight.

Now balanced –

trusting yourself to something greater;

trusting yourself to the nature of created order without question.

 

Tell me again your story.

Sing to me again your song.

Teach me again how to trust.





breath . . .

30 03 2017

Swamp Trail B&W

It was 2:30 a.m. when I arrived;

just hours from her last breath.

 

Her chest rising and falling in nomadic rhythm –

a mirror of the relationship we shared – joys, struggles, oblique love:

some known;

some unknown;

some still to be discovered.

 

She did not move, eyes closed –

peaceful other than her dissonant breaths;

a peace that had alluded her in her living.

 

But not quite yet –

her journey toward Union,

still earth-tethered.

 

So we sat vigil . . .

waiting . . .

What else could we do?

Just being with . . .

Being with us.

 

Silence interrupted by occasional conversation –

with each other – seeking some normalcy;

with mom – seeking to help an emancipation,

“It’s okay to go mom.

We love you.

I know dad is getting excited.

Your family is waiting…”

 

When breath, life, and love

becomes so clearly focused,

I do not know what else to trust but Intimacy.

I do not know another to trust

but the One in which we all have breath.

 

To live within this kind of trust is a constant craving.

 

Then, watching, I saw mom begin to trust the One holding her.

Breathing rhythmically now.

Breathing with the One.

Slowly bringing her breath into One.

Until her body had no need for earth’s confining atmosphere.

 

Now her spirit breathes pure Ruah;

breathing in the One who first gives breath.

Now the “i” breathes within “I AM”.

choptank dock midnight 2_edited-1





a query deep in the woods…

5 03 2017

little-river_rocks

I came upon a query deep in the woods. . .

deep within me –

“What is it, God, would You have me do with my life?”

I heard from among the trees a silent whisper,

“Love Me.”

 

My desire and ambition,

not trusting the Truth in the whisper,

pressed for a process –

“God. How do I love You?”

 

From the heart of the woods I heard,

“Be like that stream, there.

It just flows –

a flow that will make it to the sea some day.”

 

“Be like that stone, there.

It just is . . .

hosting life – busy ants, silent moss –

offering itself.”

 

From I AM, I breathed a resonant breath of invitation. . .

just be – Love already within

loving who I am;

loving where I am;

Loving I AM.





A photographer captured…

8 02 2017

 

cropped-mountain-sunrise.jpg

Creation gifts me –

I do not know why I deserve to be such a recipient.

From the expansive waves of Blue Ridge Mountains to

an iris’ intricate design.

Moments of Essence kiss me daily.

 

I am gifted by what I have no claim upon.

I have no commentary other than it is gift –

not to be selfishly guarded;

not to be kept in cellophane wrapping – saved for another day.

 

Still –

I desire to remain attached to these moments;

This deep beauty;

This unnamable peace;

I want this palpable Essence to linger on my tongue;

 

I want to settle here;

abide here;

build a monument;

hold onto it;

capture it.

 

So I raise my Nikon and from a 52mm sphere

I try to capture these measureless moments;

knowing, intuitively, that the “trying” is energy displaced.

Essence cannot be possessed, held on to, captured –

we cannot enslave Essence.

She is gift – ever present – woven intricately into our being.

 

Yet, I am stirred deeply –

life’s meaning whispered to me on a moment’s breath.

That oneness with the One permeates me endlessly,

my mind cannot comprehend.

 

I lower my “moment-capturing-device”,

take a deep breath,

and lean into the trust that Essence is already stirring within me –

each moment.

 

Maybe I am the one needing to be captured?