Transformation…

27 01 2019

Friends Chairs

Ego and Transformation are having an earnest conversation . . .

Ego, loud and seemingly confident – really, fearful of losing itself;

Transformation speaking from authenticity –

knowing Love, Freedom, and Truth.

 

My soul suspended within the dialogue ;

wishing only to hibernate just a bit longer –

muscles, nervously weak;

instinctively knowing living out ego’s desires is death.

 

I hear Transformation’s voice –

Her hope-filled intonations reverberating within my unknown –

knowing what I do not.

Waiting for me on the other side of threshold. . . waiting…

 

(Deep breath…)

 

What is my compelling desire…truly?

To dare move toward what I cannot fully know…trusting?

To want and to know Love more deeply?

Or to stand firm in perceived certainty – within my walled world view,

never moving closer than what I am now into Wholeness’ warm Light?

 

Am I ready?

Maybe it is the doubt revealed in this question

that keeps me from stepping into liminal space?

Am I willing to trust myself into Transformative Love?

 

Can I handle the gifts She offers?

I suspect not on my own – maybe that’s the point.

Shall I remain here in anxiety and fear’s ceaseless embrace?

Tunnel vision can feel safe…

 

Or will I focus on Love’s glint in Transformation’s eyes?

Will I recognize the hope She holds for me?

How She holds me?

Teaching me to embrace anxiety and fear?

Teaching me to embrace myself?

 

Vulnerability is risky…scary;

something to admire in others.

But, I know…

I know I cannot bear to stay where I am…

 

A deep trust-infused prayer slips silently past my lips.

Courage begins to encircle anxiety and fear.

I find myself, now, at Transformation’s portal.

I lift my foot. . .

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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?





So many words…

28 09 2018

So many words being spoken today…

In Ireland, Iran, North Korea, Netherlands, Russia, Rwanda, Malaysia, Mexico, Bahamas, Burundi, Kenya, Kuwait, United States, and United Nations…

In courts, in state houses, in congress, at the White house, in politics…

Within religious communities, within businesses, and within schools…

On TV, on radio, on social media, on our phones…

In my house, in my family, in my head, in my heart…

 

I wonder if there is as much listening?

I hope so…

Friends Chairs