denial . . .

The one who denied the One

now denies himself along the shore,

in the presence of the Walking Word;

deflecting intimacy –

self-measurement against the other.

 

I am the one –

denying Life within;

sacrificing intimacy;

diverting movement toward vulnerability and wholeness;

trying to find worth in the eyes others – even in the demise of others;

grasping for any validation I can’t seem to give myself.

 

I hold tight, my sickness – forsaking health;

secretly lusting after my own maladies –

a masquerade of security…holding them as virtues.

 

Denial –

baked by parched air into the foundation of who I believe myself to be;

dug from miry depths to fill holes where Truth might seep in.

 

I place my hands over my ears to avert what I might hear –

Your creature’s second crow.

I pretend You have misunderstood

when I tell you I know and have lived the rules,

and you still ask me to surrender what chains me.

 

I deceive myself.

I remain blind – fearful hands shielding my eyes.

I try to resurrect what cultivates death.

 

Worth it? This deal with denial?

 

I am the one.

 

Still…

 

Freedom waits patiently;

Hope just a breath away – a belief away;

Truth, my advocate – imploring endlessly. . .

Risking Evolving Perspectives

• Risking Evolving Perspectives is a piece I wrote for Quench, Well for the Journey‘s quarterly newsletter. Well for the Journey, is a spiritual wellness center.

Sometimes I forget.

I become very comfortable with my life perspective and my daily living – routines; nuances of habit; and the galvanizing of my view of the world, of myself, of you.
I feel safe and secure. I am content (or is it I am too fearful?) and would rather not move. “You come to me. I’m good where I am.”

I imagine I am not the only one who forgets.

Yes, what bliss it is to live in the realm of limited consciousness – defending defined borders along unknown lands; staving off responsibility that protects us from 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 own comfort – holding tight to the wardrobe keys so Narnia will remain undiscovered . . . seeking self-preservation.

We work so hard. We deceive ourselves.

But maybe . . . maybe living fully is not viewing life always from my own ground. Maybe it is about moving – that first step away from “home” is always the hardest.

There is always an invitation to explore the Limitless: in the truth that all of who we are, light and shadow, is loved already – no strings attached; in faith that we can risk journeying into the unknown and the doubt of uncertainty; in trust that we can embrace blurred boundaries; in hope of discovering the depth of who we are created to be; and

in the joy of living into the bliss of new dawning horizons, awakening us to a new way of being in the world; to a new way of being with others.

Risking the comfort of my own perspective is scary – even opening a paper-thin crack in the door. But what is the cost of staying where I am?

May you know that you are not alone.

May you be given grace enough to lean into the One who is the genesis of our seeing.

May you be granted courage to take that first step into new horizons.

And may you dwell in the bliss found in the community of evolving perspectives.