light on a slant…

I sit – the late afternoon sun kisses my face;

backlit cerulean clouds lingering, encircled by a transcendent halo.

It is late September and the sun falls on the earth at a slant.

Angled light bathing golden asters, hummingbirds, butterflies…

sweet, Holy Light.

 

I become very aware – sunlight saturates me as well.

 

And as Light on a slant does,

deeper questions are revealed –

Will I risk grieving the loss of who I think I am

for the truth of who I truly am?

Or is remaining in defined, confined aspirations

worth the loss of what I most desire?

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Freedom . . .

Caged soul-expression;

longing to be free – to take flight;

chained by links of prescribed shoulds and ought-tos;

of fears, insecurities, and self-abandonment.

Imagination’s big bang longing to expand — creativity’s resurrection;

suppressed by years of conformity;

held by dark matter’s invisible force (mostly of my own doing);

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

A poem waiting for its completion;

a verse lived day-by-day;

a prose – the story of who I am becoming – revealed in the living out.

Mystery – the poem;

Creator – the liberator of imagination and inspiration;

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

Love – the emancipator of who I am . . .

What Are We to Do?

 

What are we to do?

They’re pounding on the door: worries, fears, rage, expectations, an unhealthy ego.

They’re vying for sole essence – of me, of you –

all wanting to occupy the sacred seat . . .

We know . . .

we know they’re present – a part of us, within us;

although we do not want to admit so.

We try to fend them off – deny, defend, deflect;

energy expended – wasted as the door cracks open a bit more . . .

What are we to do?

We know the truth – what we must do – what we are afraid to do . . .

surely not though?!

There must be another way – a less uncomfortable way . . .

Are we willing to live in this anxiety-ridden state?

Living estranged from others – this is easy, safe . . .

living estranged from our selves is death.

So, welcome what we would deny?

Why do we fear welcoming our selves so?

Forfeiting the chance to be loved;

forfeiting loving who we are;

forfeiting the ability to love others without judgment.

In reality –

you are already loved by Love . . .

can’t do anything about this.

Welcome, then, all of who you are –

grateful that there is room at the table for all:

fear, joy, anxiety, compassion, pride, sensitivity, expectation, gratitude.

grateful that this welcoming creates room at the table for others.

Listen again –

same question,

new ears…

What are we to do?

The Journey…

 

 

 

 

I am sometimes…

            a lot of times…

                        most of the time…

                                                my own worst enemy.

 

Always looking too far ahead –

                                    absent from the immediate gifts about me.

 

A Silers Bald to Clingmans Dome experience gifts my memory–

all up hill…

up mountain.

 My spirit deceiving my eyes;

physical burn clouding my vision –

seeing only the next climb;

My heart pulled down by discouragement and despair…

depriving myself of what gives life:

                        Presence…

living in, open to, and awareness of the Now.

 

It is not only on the mountain where I carry the enemy.

So, too, it is in my daily living.

I look too far ahead;

my eyes deceived;

my heart chained by fear, expectations, and self-doubt.

 I am not mindful of Presence in the present…

 

I suspect if I were more so,

getting to the top…

to here or there,

would not be as important as the journey.

(the photo is from Clingmans Dome)

What can come from waiting?

 

Taken from Bald Rock, SC looking toward Table Rock

What can come from waiting?

An invitation for what I fear most to creep toward and overtake me?

A “chilled-to-the-soul” wind blows. . .

A darkness slowly snakes over the horizon to swallow the depths of me.

Even friendly clouds scheme and turn Hyde, morphing, covering beauty to which I cling.

I want to run – to get away;

Practicality begs me to give into reason – escape . . .

 

But what can come from waiting?

 

A deeper Voice invites me to stay . . .

a dawning breaks forth as I welcome what I perceived as sunset;

Light wakes me up inside as She begins Her dance

— quietly, gracefully, inspiritingly.

She moves in rhythm with all creation — light and darkness;

a new knowing is birthed . . .

Waiting . . .

A candle’s worth of Light…

 

 

 

 

 

Within the dissected souls we carry,

there is a deep longing . . .

thirst for a drop of wholeness;

craving for a healing salve that soothes the spirit;

hunger for a peace to drench an anxiety-parched inner landscape . . .

 

We light a candle . . .

familiar words come —

“Light keeps shining in the dark,

darkness has never put it out.”

 

we take another step into a deeper knowing —

a candle’s worth of Light is all we need . . .

should not be here…

 

 

 

 

 

My ego contends that I should not be here.

This place where new horizons are dawning: awakening to a new way of being in the world; a new way of being with others . . .

this uncomfortable space where the status quo will not do;

this place where Truth shines in dark corners.

My ego insists that I abandon this nonsense;

where change might become the norm;

where letting go of the temporal is the invitation . . .

My ego demands that I should not be here . . .

but curiosity and wholeness on the tongue speaks to something in me deeper still . . .

I cannot go back . . .

I cannot stay where I am . . .

yet now is the gift given. . .