conversation of reconciliation

29 03 2020

along the parkway copy

Please.  Come in.

I want to apologize for holding you in such contrary light –

weak, unworthy, an enemy (as was my early teaching),

oppositional, something to be feared…separate from my life experience.

 

Who I am, in part, depends on you, ego.

Still, I try and dissect you from my living – my being.

Denying you is denying the “I am” created within.

So here we are in this conversation of reconciliation.

 

It’s just…when you seek validation from outside sources,

or when you want to be bigger than who you are,

it scares me…frustrates me…makes me suspicious;

always leaves me hungry…is always not enough…always leaves me empty.

 

I know…I have given you away too quickly, too often – hurting you deeply;

Wanting to latch onto anything that would validate my existence – not believing my

existent is validation enough.

I play my part, too in affirming you when you think yourself better than the other…

denying the other of what I seek.

 

I am afraid of becoming too intimate, so I protect us;

I am afraid of diminishment, so I attach to a vision of “more than who I am”.

Living this split ego-ality kills us a bit each day…

inauthentic to who we are…who we are invited to become.

 

Fragility is propagated…self-degradation, self-efficacy, power, and control become

gods.

We become partners in creating a false-self to validate the reason for our existence.

A ruler rises – Fear – to occupy our desolate landscape and dominate our domain;

elevating judgment and duality; making us less by luring us to think we are more…

or less.

 

This is what I am learning – if we try to hold on to who we are…

If we try to keep safe who we believe we are now…

it is only dust,

to be blown away by the slightest breeze.

 

It is in the letting go where we are saved;

in the vulnerability;

in risking that if we lose our life, we will find it;

in the deep trust of Mystery who holds the letting go, vulnerability, and risking.

 

So let go of who you think you are suppose to be…

And I will drop the chains of expectation of who I think I am suppose to be –

Trusting ourselves to the vulnerability of this moment…

Trusting ourselves to trust Mystery.

 

If we lose this false sense of self, then…then…

we will be found.

And we will find ourselves – authentic, true, and free…

discovering within what has sustained our being all along – LOVE

 

LOVE – not removing  inward deserts, barren caverns, or empty chasms

(they are real and life companions) –

but discovering LOVE…with us…within these hard, scary, lonely places…now.

LOVE dwelling within us – our community, our creation, our being…perpetually.

 

And, yes, this gift given…it is a choice.

A grace and a responsibility for sure.

It is LOVE given to do with as we will –

like within this conversation of reconciliation.

To Ms. Lillian's

 





trying to understand…

11 01 2020

tunnel

Who are we God?

Are we so lost?

Where lies become truth and divisiveness is lifted as unity;

where our leaders unsheathe fear daily.

 

And we justify…

We rationalize…

Contorting facts until

they match our truth.

 

Where one professes his Christianity –

a follower of the one, Jesus the Christ –

yet vehemently attacks the personhood of others daily.

Jesus…you did this?

 

Where one claims to be the chosen one…

placing himself equal with One who lived among us without stain.

one, a mortal, seeing no self-faults…no need for forgiveness.

Followed religiously by those who preached there is only One.

 

Others still, cower beneath the wielding of fear and hate –

selling their souls for the lust of power, prestige and approval;

taking the form of what they fear;

callousness their elixir…insecurity occupying their soul.

 

I am just trying to understand…

Who God is; our faith; what is gospel; who we say we are –

they are true in each moment?

Not to be  – can’t be – dissected from our living?

 

Why is there a need for such division among us?

My faith taught me God desires us to be community.

And why do believers follow this one so zealously instead of the One?

This one who reads Christmas greetings of unity – then attacks, divides,

and sows distrust.

 

A faith sojourner’s voice still rings within my preschool heart:

Mrs. Jackson…

“Be kind one to another”… “God loves everyone”…“We are all God’s children.”

Do we not know the greatest power – Love – already within?

 

And I am no saint for sure.

Needing daily awareness to tame my ego;

daily courage to choose Love over fear

(failure a frequent companion I must admit).

 

I have a part, I know, in applying a healing balm;

Speaking unity into divisiveness – within myself and into our world;

needing the touch of grace, forgiveness, and Love constantly.

So I write this as a beginning – trying to understand…

Railroad Tunnel

 





Wake me up…

27 07 2019

I feel my heart beating – desire driving me;

longing…aching…for a deeper intimacy;

Still, wanting to know;

wanting to be known.

 

Sensing…tasting Truth.

Wanting to hold its fullness –

knowing this paradoxical impossibility;

dreaming, still, that it might be.

 

My heart’s door open – braving known brokenness,

knowing brokenness will come again –

a portal to Union…Freedom…LOVE.

My little ego would try and convince me otherwise.

 

When I desire control, wake me up God.

When I yield to or live blindly out of fear – wake me up God.

When I am enmeshed in manipulative, egoist sacrifice – wake me up God.

When I do not see others or me as You see – wake me up God.

 

I am famished, hungering for elusive transformation.

Yet transformation – seemingly stagnant – stirs;

in motion, in this moment…in ways I cannot see…in ways that will become.

Wake me up…

 

Help my heart, then, to be quiet so that I may listen.

Help my being wait…not in anxious passivity, but in anticipatory hope.

Help my spirit discern the Spirit’s stirring within…a deep, ongoing conversation.

Wake me up…

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It’s time, isn’t it?

13 01 2019

jad_5109

It’s time, isn’t it, Dear One?

To lose myself a bit more;

my created self, that is?…

It’s time to let go.

 

I do feel grief welling up –

another end of whom I think myself to be.

It’s hard to leave a dwelling place;

where cloaked authenticity is the norm – comfortable…

but not really real.

 

Ego is afraid of losing itself, right?…

of sliding into nothingness?

The fear of possibilities is stirred, is it not?

that we might not belong;

that we might be worthless;

that we might be unlovable;

that our life is only a shadow and a whisper…a vapor;

that our life might not matter;

that we might awake to find all this to be true?

 

So we do what we can to hang on to our manufactured selves;

unwilling to risk the letting go…

of submerging ourselves in the waters of unknowing;

of free-falling into trust;

into who we might become.

 

We desperately grasp onto whatever gives identity –

praise, power, possessions.

We live a surface life.

We create an alternate self –

convincing ourselves our masks are skin and bone.

Addiction, attachments, shame, violence –

by-products of living out of who we are not.

Knowing – soul knowing – these are not true definitions of who we are.

 

It is only in the losing of ourselves, we are found…

 

So it’s time again, isn’t it, Holy One?

To respond to this perennial invitation;

to open clinched fists;

to bathe in the waters of unknowing;

to free-fall into trust;

to remove suffocating masks and breath freely;

to lose ourselves.

 

Knowing You are the heart-holder.

Knowing You are Love on my skin and in my bones.

Knowing the paradox of

grief transformed within joy;

falling as being lifted up;

letting go as being held;

losing myself as being found;

abandoning a created-self as discovering my authentic being.

Knowing I will be found in ways I cannot fathom.

Knowing I will be loved by Love into a deeper understanding and unity…

 

It’s time again, Dear One, isn’t it?





lost…and finding

23 12 2018

clouds & mountains

Its subtleness is like a drug –

“busy-ness” consumes each next moment;

each next minute;

each next hour;

each next day.

 

I have followed the imperative paths of the next task

until I become numb to the contours of my own life.

Rote living has become rote.

I do not recognize home.

I do not recognize the essence of who I am.

 

Awareness awakens me…“I am lost.”

 

Lost in accumulated expectations;

Lost in incapacitating emotional muck;

Lost in debilitating relational upheaval;

Lost in exhausting, ego-feeding energy spent.

I am so far away from myself –

dissected from my soul.

 

Sunset approaches…

 

I am writing into darkness.

I am writing on the edge of what feels like non-existence,

sitting within midnight’s realm…

Where you cannot see me;

where I cannot see myself.

 

I am writing into pain –

not that which is felt by flesh,

but deep, description defying pain,

residing in the essence of our being…

boring its way toward the surface.

 

I am writing into shame and anger,

learned and unmerited,

placed on shoulders by others…by me;

anger birthed from guilt and this shame –

the denial of which turns to fear, bitterness, and hate.

 

How vulnerable it feels when our pain is exposed.

How vulnerable to name our anger, guilt and shame.

How vulnerable it feels when moving from invisibility to authenticity;

questioning our existence instead of living as if we don’t;

remaining in consuming darkness when it would be easier to flee.

 

I am so thirsty;

so hungry for lived truth.

I long for Home…

longing for Light in darkness – pre-dawn hope.

 

It’s time to let go of all that expectation would have me be –

who I am is enough in this moment…

will be enough in becoming.

It’s time to embrace darkness and pain…

the welcoming of which leads to wholeness.

It’s time to rise with life scars engraved into my being…

symbols of being truly alive – hidden by cosmetics no more.

It’s time for a grateful heart, knowing I am not alone –

held by both community and Creator.

How vulnerable it feels when you live fully into others and into this world.

 

And this is weakness?

I would suggest otherwise –

 

I am writing into freedom –

through the darkness and pain;

letting go of all that expectations have planned for me;

letting come all of whom I have been created to be.

being found daily…

Cromwell Flower





too small…

8 12 2018

Above the Clouds

We live too small, too often –

small world,

small dreams,

small mind,

small spirit,

small heart,

within small words like “either” and “or”.

 

This, the way of a heart cloaked within scarcity –

where fear and control is the currency;

where the wages are integrity, authenticity, and self-worth;

where enough is inadequate;

where expectations gather like hungry wolves.

 

We feed these wolves too often,

unaware it is our own souls we throw into their midst –

believing we can stave off such appetites –

satiating hunger…

starving ours.

It feels safer for our egos to live in the familiar…

 

Yet…

 

The Light in darkness;

the breath for the breathless;

the hope for the hopeless…

is that there is more to this life –

a greater freedom

a greater openness

a greater Love

a more voluminous way to live…

into expansive words like “both” and “and”;

each moment as sacred.

 

It is a paradox, I know.

Backwards to our minds –

where controlling leads to narrowness

and vulnerability leads to Life;

where leading with a yielding heart –

rather than grasping and manipulating,

births freedom;

where embracing the unknown is the way to Unity…

 

This is the Way –

to more…much more…

so much more than scarcity allows us to imagine.

 

How do we want to live?

a small question…

But in the asking –

a journey begins…

to live not too small…





like winter trees…

24 11 2018

Cades Cove 2 2

Open, exposed, naked –

I long for such vulnerability, transparency –

to be broken…stripped.

I know, in part, what I am asking…

I am aware – I do not know all that I ask.

 

Hidden for too long…

Protective for too long…

Closed for too long…

Too long captive to fear, guilt, and shame.

 

I have nothing more for them to take.

Stripped down to authenticity…

there is nothing more…

there is nothing more.

 

I sit on the edge of Cromwell’s meadow.

A sparrow sings songs of freedom as it flies across the barren field –

a sparrow being a sparrow.

So vulnerable…to be just what you were created to be…

how freeing.

 

True Life is found within this vulnerability…

this authenticity.

Real Life and freedom are revealed among the open, exposed, naked…

found, too, in my own barren fields.

 

Open, exposed, naked…

I wait for a sparrow to sing –

Knowing, in part, what the waiting means.

Knowing that I cannot know all that waiting will bring…

 

A Chickadee lights on the seedling in front of me…





meadow sapling…

10 11 2018

 

 

DSC_0003edited copy

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?





keep listening

3 11 2018

DSC_0864

 

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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