We are one

31 01 2017

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We are one.

From childhood, my faith has taught me so.

Is this not true?

 

Everyone belonging to an all-embracing Truth –

A Truth human expression cannot contain?

Isn’t this Truth true in spite of my faith?

 

We are one.

Why do these three words raise defensive walls?

Why do they scare us so?

 

Fear mixed with pride – our ego’s addictive elixir;

an opportunist ego’s playground –

serving it to preserve power;

injecting it to manipulate;

a way to sustain control…

 

but not The Way.

 

Still, we chase the god of “better than”

devising decrees of divisiveness ;

forging “us versus them” perimeters –

it’s easier not knowing another’s story;

defining others with broad strokes –

it’s more convenient painting with a bigger brush I suppose;

manipulating foundational concepts to create fabricated walls.

Why are we afraid of what is different? of what is other?

 

Then do we not believe what we claim within our faith?

What we say is Truth?

 

We are one.

This is celebration worthy!

 

We are one.

Created by the Creator;

created within Mystery;

created from Love to love;

created uniquely… out of Hope;

created from the One;

created as one.

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Masks

25 01 2017

masks

There they are – laid before me at the beginning of another day.

A decision to make,

or maybe I’ll carry them all:

My “I’m fine” mask so I may cover my pain.

My “excessive pride” mask so I may cover my insecurities.

My “I’m in control” mask so I may cover my fear that I am not.

My “I’m the victim” mask so I may cover my self-doubt.

My “self-deprecating humor” mask so I may cover my self-loathing.

 

There are others on my crowded shelf.

The morning sun hitting each just so,

with a comfortable, warm enticement;

inviting me to a day’s worth of simulated security.

 

I suspect you may have some on your shelf too.

 

I would hate to see you cover the beautiful face that is you.

The you that was given to this world.

The you, if covered, would make this world less.

The you we need so desperately.

 

I wonder what would be different if

I trusted these thoughts stirring in my soul and now exposed?

I wonder how a summer breeze feels on skin rather than against plastic?

I wonder?

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The box . . .

2 12 2016

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When I was young, I was given a box.

 

I played with it;

stepped in and out of it;

became comfortable with it.

 

One day, why I do not know,

I stepped in and did not leave.

Maybe it was fear personified:

inadequacies perceived;

incompetencies feared;

self-loathing lived.

A provisional assurance held me.

A conditional certainty seduced me.

 

An unspoken deal was in the making:

safe, dualistic walls in exchange for vision;

security if I bowed down to fear;

dogmatism for freedom;

self-worth tethered to established compliance.

 

The cubed interior became my reality –

The world outside, too threatening.

To Fear, I surrendered.

Truth encased in a box –

wearing denial and self-righteousness like they were all the rage.

Living off of anxiety’s finite energy

draining;

shifting;

conditional;

confining;

excluding.

 

Unexpectedly,  profound pain blew in like north winds;

a deep chill, tinged with icy, old wounds;

chaotic cracking threatened my contained domain.

 

optic scales began to fall . . .

Who would of thought pain would be my salvation?

 

Death loosed bridled questions.

My way of singularity threatened;

rips in boxed-corners;

binary constructs crumbled;

my small truth deconstructed;

satisfactory answers elusive;

a one-sided deal broken.

 

Breathless.

Air expended in my limited reality –

slowly dying by Fear’s exhaled poison.

 

Now emptied –

coming to the end of my created truth –

Truth revealed –

an invitation to truly live.

 

Now emptied –

Pain, joy, grief, hope co-existing –

a dualistic mind cannot contain the fullness of the heart;

Paradox’s invitation to authentic living.

 

Now emptied –

Of constructed truth;

Of fear and anxiety’s paralyzing clutter;

Of a contained god;

Of me.

 

Now emptied –

Space for conversation – spirit to Spirit;

between me and you.

Sacred space created.

 

Now emptied –

liberated . . .

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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 . . .





What Are We to Do?

9 06 2015

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What are we to do?

They’re pounding on the door: worries, fears, rage, expectations, an unhealthy ego.

They’re vying for sole essence – of me, of you –

all wanting to occupy the sacred seat . . .

We know . . .

we know they’re present – a part of us, within us;

although we do not want to admit so.

We try to fend them off – deny, defend, deflect;

energy expended – wasted as the door cracks open a bit more . . .

What are we to do?

We know the truth – what we must do – what we are afraid to do . . .

surely not though?!

There must be another way – a less uncomfortable way . . .

Are we willing to live in this anxiety-ridden state?

Living estranged from others – this is easy, safe . . .

living estranged from our selves is death.

So, welcome what we would deny?

Why do we fear welcoming our selves so?

Forfeiting the chance to be loved;

forfeiting loving who we are;

forfeiting the ability to love others without judgment.

In reality –

you are already loved by Love . . .

can’t do anything about this.

Welcome, then, all of who you are –

grateful that there is room at the table for all:

fear, joy, anxiety, compassion, pride, sensitivity, expectation, gratitude.

grateful that this welcoming creates room at the table for others.

Listen again –

same question,

new ears…

What are we to do?

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Judging Greg…

28 11 2014

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Judging:

a one-way mirror;

superficial and avoiding depth;

fabricating protective walls:

keeping you at arms length and more;

selective hearing;

claiming god-like authority;

addicted to control;

talk and thoughts from absolutes;

pleasure attained in “holding against”;

safe-guarding the ego;

an offspring of fear;

 

this, the easy way – or so it seems…

 

but I…

I am asked of Love to love.

I am asked to risk embracing – inviting intimacy.

I am asked to welcome letting go instead of idolizing control.

I am asked by Grace to extend grace as I have been graced.

I am asked by Faith to trust the Author of faith.

I am asked by Mystery to be awake for what might be.

I am asked by the One who holds me to hold another.

I am asked by the Reconciler to be a peacemaker.

I am, gazing upon my own reflection, asked not to forget the log in my own eye.

I am asked to be an offspring of Love.

 

this, the harder way – or so it seems…

 

but, oh…

the freedom…

the un-namable peace

the deep river of joy

the indescribable love…

being truly alive!

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In Her Eyes…

28 06 2014

 

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I see in her eyes now, the same indwellers as in her early years –-

anxiety and fear;

 

She is not who she was . . .

yet this host/tenant relationship remains the same

claiming, slowly, the life of one so young.

 

Charisma within crowds –- quick to jest;

underneath, though — alone with herself —

the addiction to fear and anxiety is insatiable . . .

Haunting her . . . always haunting . . .

 

trying desperately to survive,

she shares her dependence with those whom she loves:

 

 

I have boxes full . . .

 

 

We all have such boxes under our beds . . .

And we –- to our dismay — have given our share of boxes to the ones we love;

 

Freedom comes, however, in the opening not the storing;

the burden of addictions and attachments (self-created and those received) received as gifted opportunities.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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