It’s time, isn’t it?

13 01 2019

jad_5109

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?





keep listening

3 11 2018

DSC_0864

 

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…





depth’s longing…

14 09 2018

From what depths does this longing flow?Gettysburg Fence

What secret story do my tears wish to share?

I am not sure of where I am going…

I am not sure of who I am…

 

 

Maybe this is the beginning of an end?

Maybe this is the end of a beginning?

I stand outside myself – a visitor.

Is this the “losing myself” I was taught early Sunday mornings?

In losing myself, will life be gained?

 

I am trying to live this moment – this now.

I am trying to “consider the goldenrod of the meadow” where I sit.

I am trying to trust the soft vibrations of a deep, Loving conversation.

I am trying to trust the unknowing woven into my living.

 

Worries would have me believe they are masters of the now –

dislocate me from this moment;

deliver me to the regrets of yesterday;

have me wallow in the anxieties of tomorrow.

 

Love, though, is immediate –

the Creator of each moment.

Love, a river, flowing – always…

through me…through you.

What a laudable reality.

 

So within this nameless longing;

within this craving for deep awareness;

I learn – to let go…

to let the now be what it is;

to notice the miracles around me now:

raindrops,

music,

friends,

the sound of my hand drawn across my unshaven face,

my breath…

Love.

 

And in this prayer poem, I am changed.

 





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 stone, there.

It just is . . .

hosting life – busy ants, silent moss –

offering itself.”

 

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

just be – Love already within

loving who I am;

loving where I am;

Loving I AM.





Today . . .

9 11 2016

csc_0118

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.

dsc_0103edited

 





Shame

19 08 2016

CSC_0061edited

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.

Cades Cove layers





Uncaged . . .

13 02 2016

 

caged 2

Caged –

censored by years of conformity;

chained by links of prescription:

shoulds and ought-tos,

fears,

anxieties,

insecurities,

            self-definition deprivation . . .

Gripped by dark matter’s invisible force;

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

 

But the soul’s expression . . . insuppressible;

wild,

free,

uncontainable . . .

 

Imagination’s Big Bang – expanding;

creativity’s resurrection – incessant . . .

a poem waiting for completion;

a verse lived day-by-day;

a prose of becoming, composed of daily refrains. . .

 

Mystery – the poetry;

Creator – the emancipator of imagination and inspiration;

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

Love – the savior of who I am . . .

CSC_0738