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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in darkness, seeing clearly…

5 09 2016

 

choptank dock midnight 2_edited-1

It is the night sky where we see light most clearly.

The Presence of Slowness washes over us;

lying on our backs;

bathing in stillness;

looking up;

cicadas singing love songs to our soul.

 

This is where we are known.

This is where we know.

 

It is in darkness’ depths where light seems helpless,

persuaded by the gravity of our great void.

Our imminent demise gaining momentum;

lying in fetal position;

bathing in fear and anxiety;

looking down;

hawking voices singing songs of hopelessness.

 

This is where we are closest to Knowing.

This is where we are fully known.

 

And when caverns of darkness consume faith;

when the air is heavy with shadows –

be still.

The essence of our being will not be decimated;

we will not lose ourselves, despite ego’s contrary belief;

but we begin to shine.

 

Trying to escape –

moving so carelessly in such dark, is too dangerous.

We will remain unchanged.

 

But in the remaining,

through the darkness, while our spirit eyes adjust;

be ready to welcome evidence of Light;

the glimmer of Loves soft light;

the warmth of Love beside us in vast emptiness.

We will begin to discover ourselves…

our true, authentic selves.

Born of the darkness in which we sit;

created by Love that embraces us… always.

 

Looking up or down, then, it matters not.

It is in darkness where Light is most visible. . .

 





Risking Evolving Perspectives

7 05 2016

DSC_0195

Sometimes I forget.

I become very comfortable with my life perspective and my daily living – routines; nuances of habit; and the galvanizing of my view of the world, of myself, of you.
I feel safe and secure. I am content (or is it I am too fearful?) and would rather not move. “You come to me. I’m good where I am.”

I imagine I am not the only one who forgets.

Yes, what bliss it is to live in the realm of limited consciousness – defending defined borders along unknown lands; staving off responsibility that protects us from 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 own comfort – holding tight to the wardrobe keys so Narnia will remain undiscovered . . . seeking self-preservation.

We work so hard. We deceive ourselves.

But maybe . . . maybe living fully is not viewing life always from my own ground. Maybe it is about moving – that first step away from “home” is always the hardest.

There is always an invitation to explore the Limitless: in the truth that all of who we are, light and shadow, is loved already – no strings attached; in faith that we can risk journeying into the unknown and the doubt of uncertainty; in trust that we can embrace blurred boundaries; in hope of discovering the depth of who we are created to be; and

in the joy of living into the bliss of new dawning horizons, awakening us to a new way of being in the world; to a new way of being with others.

Risking the comfort of my own perspective is scary – even opening a paper-thin crack in the door. But what is the cost of staying where I am?

May you know that you are not alone.

May you be given grace enough to lean into the One who is the genesis of our seeing.

May you be granted courage to take that first step into new horizons.

And may you dwell in the bliss found in the community of evolving perspectives.

 

Tallulah Gorge Bridge





I wait. . .

29 01 2016

Shiprock Dike

Arid air I breath;

dry bones yearn for movement;

desert sands burn.

 

Words no longer drip from my tongue.

Words from beyond are scarce.

I wait in barren time;

I wait. . .

 

Hope is thin like thread;

still, it holds me.

 

Presence eludes me – imperceivable;

still, a secret conversation stirs within – imperceptible.

 

I close my eyes;

Breath –

a prayer forms like dew. . .

CSC_0548





This Moment

7 07 2015

11137195_690785687693959_2539573422800035990_n

She leans her head to rest on my shoulder;

her touch – a pulse of life-light waking my soul.

I want to hold onto this moment;

but if I try,

the moment will be wasted on the holding –

another moment to control . . .

an invitation for anxiety extended.

Her head on my shoulder;

a life-pulse offering peace, joy, love;

awakening me to gratitude and gratefulness —

for the joy,

for the peace,

for the love,

for the one leaning.

And in this moment, love flows out to her . . .

to the world . . .

Maybe it is best if I let this moment hold me . . .





7th Street . . .

28 06 2015

pure joyOn 7th Street in old Ocean City,

looking between wires;

through balconies;

over cars . . .

I see the endless ocean kissing the horizon –

no wires;

no balconies;

no cars . . .

A reminder of the beginning –

God and creation;

I Am Who I Am and

We – who we were to truly be . . .

Funny how the ordinary gives sight into the extraordinary . . .

I wonder if the extraordinary was intended to be the ordinary?





Held by Winter’s Landscape…

31 12 2013

winter scene

 

 

 

Hiking in this winter landscape –

snow quietly, softly touches me with its grace;

In the silence of this moment…

standing with cold pushing against my skin…

cold trying to fill empty spaces within;

I become keenly aware of Light and Beauty holding me…