The box . . .

2 12 2016

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When I was young, I was given a box.

 

I played with it;

stepped in and out of it;

became comfortable with it.

 

One day, why I do not know,

I stepped in and did not leave.

Maybe it was fear personified:

inadequacies perceived;

incompetencies feared;

self-loathing lived.

A provisional assurance held me.

A conditional certainty seduced me.

 

An unspoken deal was in the making:

safe, dualistic walls in exchange for vision;

security if I bowed down to fear;

dogmatism for freedom;

self-worth tethered to established compliance.

 

The cubed interior became my reality –

The world outside, too threatening.

To Fear, I surrendered.

Truth encased in a box –

wearing denial and self-righteousness like they were all the rage.

Living off of anxiety’s finite energy

draining;

shifting;

conditional;

confining;

excluding.

 

Unexpectedly,  profound pain blew in like north winds;

a deep chill, tinged with icy, old wounds;

chaotic cracking threatened my contained domain.

 

optic scales began to fall . . .

Who would of thought pain would be my salvation?

 

Death loosed bridled questions.

My way of singularity threatened;

rips in boxed-corners;

binary constructs crumbled;

my small truth deconstructed;

satisfactory answers elusive;

a one-sided deal broken.

 

Breathless.

Air expended in my limited reality –

slowly dying by Fear’s exhaled poison.

 

Now emptied –

coming to the end of my created truth –

Truth revealed –

an invitation to truly live.

 

Now emptied –

Pain, joy, grief, hope co-existing –

a dualistic mind cannot contain the fullness of the heart;

Paradox’s invitation to authentic living.

 

Now emptied –

Of constructed truth;

Of fear and anxiety’s paralyzing clutter;

Of a contained god;

Of me.

 

Now emptied –

Space for conversation – spirit to Spirit;

between me and you.

Sacred space created.

 

Now emptied –

liberated . . .

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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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“Slow down boys . . .”

5 11 2016

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“Slow down boys” . . .

life lesson –

from father to sons;

from one whose dying, now fully embraced.

 

Shadows, darkness and death open us this way –

to Truth’s presence;

to Truth’s embrace;

to Truth’s perspective;

to edit Truth no more.

 

“Slowness” – Truth’s way – calls to our soul;

inviting us away from a veiled, matrix-like life –

deliverance from busy minds;

exoneration from “living up to” and “keeping up with”;

liberation from judging ourselves;

curative for the cancer of shame;

cleansed from the addiction of controlling what is uncontrollable;

awakened from a schedule-induced coma;

unshackled from haunting failures;

free from fear.

 

Inviting us into freedom –

freedom to embrace who we know we are;

freedom to nourish who we know we are becoming;

freedom to cherish paradox and uncertainty – fearlessly;

freedom to welcome failure as a daughter of wholeness;

freedom to wait – not sprinting past Spirit;

freedom to just be in the Presence of Slowing…

 

We can only be right here, right now.

It is all that we are given.

So be right here, right now…

fully living;

wholly living;

whether in pain or joy;

whether in grief or blessing;

whether in angst or peace;

whether in dancing or stillness;

whether in paradox or certainty;

in Love –

always in Love.

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solemn waters

7 10 2016

 

 

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We are the flow.

We are the stones.

Beautiful together…

 

I sit beside a mountain river,

water singing over stones –

settling in . . .

Quiet, but not by ear;

aware of Presence opening me.

 

Creation becomes my teacher:

Flow – water’s perpetual movement.

Its displacement against stone

creates the chant that brings me to the threshold of peace.

Stone – obstacles, water crashing against mass . . .

Sacred abrasion.

 

The story of the flow;

the story of the stone.

Being as they are;

being where they are.

Speaking my story;

illuminating my story.

 

Living life – my flow;

acknowledging the stones:

broken relationships;

debilitating anxiety;

paralyzing fear;

devastating depression;

elevated ego;

valueless self-esteem;

accumulated loss –

my obstacles.

 

Am I creating such threshold melodies

for those who walk beside my waters?

Being as I am?

Being where I am?

Being true to my story?

 

We are the flow . . .

We are the stones . . .





Is-ness

17 09 2016

I am white.

I am male.

I am middle class.

I have an ego that conceals insecurity through:

“niceness”,

defensiveness,

and self-centeredness.

This is who I am –

categories and words used to describe, contain, and limit.

I apologize to the self I was created to be.

 

I see you as a race.

I speak to you loudly because you are not native to these shores.

I define you by your age.

I buy into roles because of your gender.

I have been uncomfortable because of your sexual orientation –

prejudices and definitions born out of fear, insecurity, and environment.

I apologize to those other than myself.

 

We are created in the image of the Creator;

the One, when asked to be defined, answered, “I am that I am”.

 

It is not binary labels that define us . . . or others;

those are for our own safety and control.

 

It is our is-ness

the truth that we are;

the truth of who we are;

created by the Creator;

imprinted with the Designer’s image –

the One who cannot be defined –

that makes us “one-of-a-kind” and limitless.

 

This is our essence.

And our essence –

our being,

our is-ness,

from the beginning,

has been declared good…

very, very good.

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in darkness, seeing clearly…

5 09 2016

 

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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. . .

 





Shame

19 08 2016

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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.

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