I wait. . .

29 01 2016

Shiprock Dike

Arid air I breath;

dry bones yearn for movement;

desert sands burn.

 

Words no longer drip from my tongue.

Words from beyond are scarce.

I wait in barren time;

I wait. . .

 

Hope is thin like thread;

still, it holds me.

 

Presence eludes me – imperceivable;

still, a secret conversation stirs within – imperceptible.

 

I close my eyes;

Breath –

a prayer forms like dew. . .

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It’s not about me . . .

20 01 2016

DSC_0189

It’s not about me. . .

 

Although the wall of defensiveness surrounding me –

built by my own hands,

seems to indicate otherwise.

 

Although the perception of myself as frequent victim,

seems to point to a belief that it is all about me.

 

Although the belief that I am responsible for you

(and all the world around me and beyond as far as that goes),

seems to have the feel that it is all about me.

 

Although fear screams inside me;

fear that breeds constant over-functioning anxiety;

fear that implores me to believe that you spend all your time wrapped

in the missed details of our interactions;

seems to point to the consideration that I know it is all about me.

 

But it is not…

 

O, ego. You are a sly one – convincing me to believe it is so vital to my living.

 

What is it anyway, that we would give it so much power?

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limited consciousness . . .

2 01 2016

Gettysburg Fence

What bliss it is to live in the realm of limited consciousness;

defending defined borders along the unknown lands:

staving off responsibility for the depth of who we are;

Here, we live in complacent simplicity –

separating and dividing;

categorizing and generalizing;

delineating between “us and them”;

coveting absolutes not ambiguity;

Allowing the container of who we are to become the content –

no more, no less.

 

Fear, in this storyline, is the primary plot device.

The ego is driven to manufacture a god for our comfort;

holding tight the wardrobe keys so Narnia will remain undiscovered;

seeking self-preservation.

 

We work so hard.

We deceive ourselves.

 

But there is always an invitation to explore the Limitless:

in the truth that all of who we are, light and shadow, is already loved –

no strings attached;

in faith that we can risk hiking into the unknown;

in trust that we can embrace blurred boundaries;

in hope of discovering the depth of who we are created to be;

in the joy of living into

True Love;Little River Rain

True Self;

True Freedom;

True Life;

True God;

 

What Bliss . . .