too small…

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…

light on a slant…

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?

Shame

Shame ON you:

A shadowed birthright for the unknowing;

vulnerable shoulders baptized;

permeating the fibers of being.

 

Shame On you:

Given by master shame-keepers;

blind to their own shame-pain;

stained by the dregs of their perceived worthlessness.

 

Shame ON me:

I, too, am stained – a shame-holder;

cloaked in my denial;

shame administered from my benumbed self;

dispensed to avoid;

imparted to another so that I will not be the only worthless one;

buried in anger – a distraction from facing my

damaged-self in shadow places…

always hiding, always evading.

 

Longing though…

longing…

for exoneration;

to be disburdened from this groundless, guilt-laden backpack;

just to be loved…

            for Love;

longing rising from a deep soul-knowing.

 

I still bear the decades-old shame stigmata.

Sad that I still prefer to dress in these tainted garments.

They’re still in fashion, right?

These comfortable, immured costumes?

 

But I see only through the eyes of the child in me.

There is a different way – where scales fall;

where Light burns off unworthiness like morning fog

and the soul is clear and pristine – created worthy;

where shame has no place –

exposed as the mask it is;

where I AM reveals the I am that I am –

breathed into existence by Breath Herself.

Created by Love –

always “Love ON me”…

Love in me…

That’s all…

That’s all that’s needed.

Freedom . . .

Caged soul-expression;

longing to be free – to take flight;

chained by links of prescribed shoulds and ought-tos;

of fears, insecurities, and self-abandonment.

Imagination’s big bang longing to expand — creativity’s resurrection;

suppressed by years of conformity;

held by dark matter’s invisible force (mostly of my own doing);

chasing fallacious love — perceived to be the liberator of who I am.

A poem waiting for its completion;

a verse lived day-by-day;

a prose – the story of who I am becoming – revealed in the living out.

Mystery – the poem;

Creator – the liberator of imagination and inspiration;

Presence – the deliverer of the soul’s captured language;

Love – the emancipator of who I am . . .

Paradox of Pain . . .

Pain knows me;

It comes like a thief – unexpected;

like wild horses – uncontrollable;

an enduring guest – unwelcome.

Pain – eliciting a deep soul scream;

taking me to the edge of what I believe I can bear;

clothing me in darkness;

rationing the sweet tones of hope.

Pain, threatening to take the very heart of me;

the essence of my spirit –

of who I am.

Pain borne from the hands of the other –

held in the hands of the other;

In the mirror, a moment of clarity . . .

                        so distant from myself – I am the other . . .

Denial is my drug;

escapism my addiction . . .

I’m not suppose to be here . . .

I don’t want to be here . . .

listen . .

breathe . . .be still . . .

listen . . .

Can I believe this echo in the canyons of my being?

Can salvation come from within what I would try to deny?

From what I so desperately want to escape?

Does Love arise from pain?

Can Love be borne from within pain?

Out of pain?

Is pain’s voice not the final sound?

A portal to deeper meaning – Love…

Pain knows me . . .

but . . .

I’m beginning to know pain…

What Are We to Do?

 

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?

Deep desire…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Along life’s road, what is my deep desire?

 

Power? Maybe –- the possession of control is tempting . . .

Suddenly, a breeze blows against my face –- an element I cannot rule.

maybe True Power comes with leaning into powerlessness.

 

Prestige? Sure –- I could get use to the “waited on hand and foot” life;

having doors opened for me . . .

but would I walk into the emptiness of feeding a bottomless ego?

maybe true prestige comes with washing the feet of another.

 

Wealth? Oh yes! There would be no worries surrounded by my mountain of things . . .

however this ravenous appetite becomes the master;

wanting more has the feel of addiction.

maybe true wealth is found in simplicity and letting go.

 

To be truly loved? More than one can know . . .

maybe True Love is found planted deep within  —

from the beginning . . . from the Beginning.

 

I am already loved by Love -–

I do not have to do –- I can’t do, anything about this love but receive.

 

to know deep stillness in this moment;

to have an insatiable hunger for sacred intimacy;

to lean into Love;

to have my ego diminish while True Self grows;

to have a continuous conversation –- Spirit to spirit —

this is my deep desire along this mysterious road . . .

One Breath Closer…

Every breath is one closer to who I will be . . .

What dreams do I then breathe in?

What pain do I hold deep within,

refusing to release anguish into the world where healing and truth dwell?

Do I breathe in air filtered through “who-others-say-I-should-be?”

through expectations, worry and fear?

Or . . .

Will I fill my being with Life’s Breath?

Life that breathed us into existence -–

Love, worthiness and wholeness the DNA of our souls?

Life that has the power of creation and creativity behind it?

 

Every breath is one closer to who I will be . . .

 

 

The Journey…

 

 

 

 

I am sometimes…

            a lot of times…

                        most of the time…

                                                my own worst enemy.

 

Always looking too far ahead –

                                    absent from the immediate gifts about me.

 

A Silers Bald to Clingmans Dome experience gifts my memory–

all up hill…

up mountain.

 My spirit deceiving my eyes;

physical burn clouding my vision –

seeing only the next climb;

My heart pulled down by discouragement and despair…

depriving myself of what gives life:

                        Presence…

living in, open to, and awareness of the Now.

 

It is not only on the mountain where I carry the enemy.

So, too, it is in my daily living.

I look too far ahead;

my eyes deceived;

my heart chained by fear, expectations, and self-doubt.

 I am not mindful of Presence in the present…

 

I suspect if I were more so,

getting to the top…

to here or there,

would not be as important as the journey.

(the photo is from Clingmans Dome)

What can come from waiting?

 

Taken from Bald Rock, SC looking toward Table Rock

What can come from waiting?

An invitation for what I fear most to creep toward and overtake me?

A “chilled-to-the-soul” wind blows. . .

A darkness slowly snakes over the horizon to swallow the depths of me.

Even friendly clouds scheme and turn Hyde, morphing, covering beauty to which I cling.

I want to run – to get away;

Practicality begs me to give into reason – escape . . .

 

But what can come from waiting?

 

A deeper Voice invites me to stay . . .

a dawning breaks forth as I welcome what I perceived as sunset;

Light wakes me up inside as She begins Her dance

— quietly, gracefully, inspiritingly.

She moves in rhythm with all creation — light and darkness;

a new knowing is birthed . . .

Waiting . . .