breath . . .

30 03 2017

Swamp Trail B&W

It was 2:30 a.m. when I arrived;

just hours from her last breath.

 

Her chest rising and falling in nomadic rhythm –

a mirror of the relationship we shared – joys, struggles, oblique love:

some known;

some unknown;

some still to be discovered.

 

She did not move, eyes closed –

peaceful other than her dissonant breaths;

a peace that had alluded her in her living.

 

But not quite yet –

her journey toward Union,

still earth-tethered.

 

So we sat vigil . . .

waiting . . .

What else could we do?

Just being with . . .

Being with us.

 

Silence interrupted by occasional conversation –

with each other – seeking some normalcy;

with mom – seeking to help an emancipation,

“It’s okay to go mom.

We love you.

I know dad is getting excited.

Your family is waiting…”

 

When breath, life, and love

becomes so clearly focused,

I do not know what else to trust but Intimacy.

I do not know another to trust

but the One in which we all have breath.

 

To live within this kind of trust is a constant craving.

 

Then, watching, I saw mom begin to trust the One holding her.

Breathing rhythmically now.

Breathing with the One.

Slowly bringing her breath into One.

Until her body had no need for earth’s confining atmosphere.

 

Now her spirit breathes pure Ruah;

breathing in the One who first gives breath.

Now the “i” breathes within “I AM”.

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a query deep in the woods…

5 03 2017

little-river_rocks

I came upon a query deep in the woods. . .

deep within me –

“What is it, God, would You have me do with my life?”

I heard from among the trees a silent whisper,

“Love Me.”

 

My desire and ambition,

not trusting the Truth in the whisper,

pressed for a process –

“God. How do I love You?”

 

From the heart of the woods I heard,

“Be like that stream, there.

It just flows –

a flow that will make it to the sea some day.”

 

“Be like that rock, there.

It just is . . .

hosting life – busy ants, silent moss –

offering itself.”

 

From I AM, I breathed a resonant breath of invitation. . .

just be with Love already within

loving who I am;

loving where I am;

Loving I AM.





We are one

31 01 2017

red-tulips-highlight        yellow-tulip-highlight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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Today . . .

9 11 2016

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Today –

when it feels like diversity wanes;

when it seems like divisiveness reigns . . .

 

Today –

when there is a Grand Canyon schism between joy and sadness;

when anger and rage lace our language . . .

 

Today –

when systems enmesh us;

when relationships are broken;

when fear simmers beneath our soul . . .

 

 

Rain falls and nourishes the earth.

Light seeps through clouds and mist.

Meadow seeds sustains a sparrow just feet away.

Music that soothed my soul yesterday, soothes it today.

And the Truth that created us from the One, is the Truth that holds us as one.

 

To breathe in Love;

to breathe out Love;

to be embraced by Love;

to embrace with Love –

this is our invitation.

It has been.

It is at this very moment.

It will be tomorrow.

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Judging Greg…

28 11 2014

yoke1

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!

choptank morning





In Her Eyes…

28 06 2014

 

web in sunedited

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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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