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

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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?





just wait…

21 09 2018

Patience has no patience when it comes to filling what is empty.

Inward scarcity is seen as foe, not friend.

So, “Fill it up! Fill this inner void…quick!”

 

Fill it by feeding on love outside myself – love I cannot seem to give myself.

Fill it with counterfeit belonging  that melts like cotton candy in the mouth,

sweet for a time…only for a time.

Fill this painful desolation with unhealthy relationships.

Fill the emptiness with the tentative security of hard, dualistic parameters.

Fill this scary abyss with habits that will surely heal me.

Hurry, fill it with fear…at least it’s something.

 

What do we sacrifice in our haste?

What do we trade when we barter with impatience?

Addiction?

Temporal soothing?

Trading deep belonging for shallow security?

 

Maybe waiting is the healing salve?

Waiting…

even in emptiness;

even in darkness;

even in the panicked feeling of needing to fill what is a void.

Waiting for what is True – for what is authentic;

Coming to see the paradox of it all…

we are never truly empty.

 

So wait…

You are worth it.

You are loved by Love – you just are.

It will come.

You will not fall endlessly into the emptiness you fear.

 

Just wait…hold on

True Love – for self, for others, for creation – will come.

Even what seems empty can be welcomed as potential.

Just wait…

I’ll wait with you…

foggy morning





depth’s longing…

14 09 2018

From what depths does this longing flow?Gettysburg Fence

What secret story do my tears wish to share?

I am not sure of where I am going…

I am not sure of who I am…

 

 

Maybe this is the beginning of an end?

Maybe this is the end of a beginning?

I stand outside myself – a visitor.

Is this the “losing myself” I was taught early Sunday mornings?

In losing myself, will life be gained?

 

I am trying to live this moment – this now.

I am trying to “consider the goldenrod of the meadow” where I sit.

I am trying to trust the soft vibrations of a deep, Loving conversation.

I am trying to trust the unknowing woven into my living.

 

Worries would have me believe they are masters of the now –

dislocate me from this moment;

deliver me to the regrets of yesterday;

have me wallow in the anxieties of tomorrow.

 

Love, though, is immediate –

the Creator of each moment.

Love, a river, flowing – always…

through me…through you.

What a laudable reality.

 

So within this nameless longing;

within this craving for deep awareness;

I learn – to let go…

to let the now be what it is;

to notice the miracles around me now:

raindrops,

music,

friends,

the sound of my hand drawn across my unshaven face,

my breath…

Love.

 

And in this prayer poem, I am changed.

 





there is a Way…

24 08 2018

 

Little River Stairs

Can I be with myself – in quiet?

In this silence?

No sound but my breath;

no noise to distract me from myself.

 

Will I allow myself to be in this stillness?

Addictive anxiety pulsing through my veins –

my monkey mind swinging

thought to thought to thought.

 

What keeps me from stepping through stillness’ door?

Knowing I will become aware of Truth?

Sensing ego’s scheme will be unveiled and challenged?

Fearing my safe god will be exposed?

 

And what has become my god?

To what earth-tethered objects do I attach my self?

To what desperate motives do I cling?

 

I worship at the altar of pleasing other –

egotism my established religion.

I am a faithful follower.

 

I practice my self-serving faith – daily;

worshipping societal gods – daily;

believing salvation will come through my own devices – daily.

 

Freedom, though, is no closer than the day before.

Beliefs have no marrow – empty and hollow;

love a measured possession.

 

I am mortal…impermanent.

I cannot come to authentic self by my own sovereignty –

although ego would like to think so.

 

But there is a Way…

welcoming my monkey mind for what it is

then letting go – ten thousand times…letting go.

 

There is a Way…

Not pushing – but waiting;

Not striving for – but resting in;

Not me – but we.

 

There is a Way…

Being with myself in quiet – in silence…

knowing the Way perpetually with me.

 

There is a Way…

Inside each breath –

within each chest rise and fall.

 

There is a Way…

Through the fear of what I might discover…

within what terrifies me most.

 

There is a Way…

Abiding within stillness

when a noise saturated world entices and beckons.

 

Can I be with myself – in quiet?

In this silence?

There is a Way…