It’s time, isn’t it?

13 01 2019

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It’s time, isn’t it, Dear One?

To lose myself a bit more;

my created self, that is?…

It’s time to let go.

 

I do feel grief welling up –

another end of whom I think myself to be.

It’s hard to leave a dwelling place;

where cloaked authenticity is the norm – comfortable…

but not really real.

 

Ego is afraid of losing itself, right?…

of sliding into nothingness?

The fear of possibilities is stirred, is it not?

that we might not belong;

that we might be worthless;

that we might be unlovable;

that our life is only a shadow and a whisper…a vapor;

that our life might not matter;

that we might awake to find all this to be true?

 

So we do what we can to hang on to our manufactured selves;

unwilling to risk the letting go…

of submerging ourselves in the waters of unknowing;

of free-falling into trust;

into who we might become.

 

We desperately grasp onto whatever gives identity –

praise, power, possessions.

We live a surface life.

We create an alternate self –

convincing ourselves our masks are skin and bone.

Addiction, attachments, shame, violence –

by-products of living out of who we are not.

Knowing – soul knowing – these are not true definitions of who we are.

 

It is only in the losing of ourselves, we are found…

 

So it’s time again, isn’t it, Holy One?

To respond to this perennial invitation;

to open clinched fists;

to bathe in the waters of unknowing;

to free-fall into trust;

to remove suffocating masks and breath freely;

to lose ourselves.

 

Knowing You are the heart-holder.

Knowing You are Love on my skin and in my bones.

Knowing the paradox of

grief transformed within joy;

falling as being lifted up;

letting go as being held;

losing myself as being found;

abandoning a created-self as discovering my authentic being.

Knowing I will be found in ways I cannot fathom.

Knowing I will be loved by Love into a deeper understanding and unity…

 

It’s time again, Dear One, isn’t it?

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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…





keep listening

3 11 2018

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My ten-year old heart could not grasp the paradox –

a not so holy, holy war:

sanctuary and refuge threatened;

being church at the edge of dis-grace;

unquestioned trust…tenuous.

 

A kind-hearted man –

his distant story…a nuptial relationship broken.

Offering to teach others from his love of the Beloved.

But for some, an “unclean soul” teaching in sacred space.

 

but aren’t we all…unclean (by human definition)?

 

Yet, “some” would rather wallow in fear, hate, and power –

hiding behind rules.

The small, reptilian brain engages –

sides taken;

angry words spoken;

power wielded (but not real power)…

living the gospel avoided.

Condemning the one the Beloved loves as broken.

 

I’ve been broken too . . .

You?

 

And what of Jesus?

Healing on holy days;

eating with those excluded;

touching the untouchables;

Truth telling – rejected in his own sacred space;

teaching from his love of the Beloved;

labeled “criminal” by those who would rather wallow in fear, hate, and power…

Those hiding behind rules.

 

Fear sacrificed Love then –

fear would seek to do the same today.

Fear chooses legalistic doctrine over emancipating Love –

because it feels safe;

because it preserves power;

because it shelters one from living into the depths of what Love invites…

intimacy with the Beloved.

 

Fear narrows, Love creates.

Fear excludes, Love includes.

Fear chokes, Love lets go.

Fear holds desperately to its own life, Love loses its life in order to find True Life.

 

This is the Mystery.

This is the pain.

This is the joy.

This is the paradox.

Love sacrificed births Love exponentially.

 

My ten-year old heart kept listening…

Keep listening…





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





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…

 





We are one

31 01 2017

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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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