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.





A photographer captured…

8 02 2017

 

cropped-mountain-sunrise.jpg

Creation gifts me –

I do not know why I deserve to be such a recipient.

From the expansive waves of Blue Ridge Mountains to

an iris’ intricate design.

Moments of Essence kiss me daily.

 

I am gifted by what I have no claim upon.

I have no commentary other than it is gift –

not to be selfishly guarded;

not to be kept in cellophane wrapping – saved for another day.

 

Still –

I desire to remain attached to these moments;

This deep beauty;

This unnamable peace;

I want this palpable Essence to linger on my tongue;

 

I want to settle here;

abide here;

build a monument;

hold onto it;

capture it.

 

So I raise my Nikon and from a 52mm sphere

I try to capture these measureless moments;

knowing, intuitively, that the “trying” is energy displaced.

Essence cannot be possessed, held on to, captured –

we cannot enslave Essence.

She is gift – ever present – woven intricately into our being.

 

Yet, I am stirred deeply –

life’s meaning whispered to me on a moment’s breath.

That oneness with the One permeates me endlessly,

my mind cannot comprehend.

 

I lower my “moment-capturing-device”,

take a deep breath,

and lean into the trust that Essence is already stirring within me –

each moment.

 

Maybe I am the one needing to be captured?





The box . . .

2 12 2016

cropped-friends-chairs.jpg

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:

Black and white walls of safety in exchange for my vision;

security if I bowed down to fear;

dogmatism for my freedom;

self-worth tethered to established compliance.

 

The cubed interior became my reality –

The world outside, too threatening;

to Fear, I bowed low.

truth encased in a box –

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

 

Living off of fear’s finite energy

draining;

shifting;

exhaustible;

conditional;

narrowing;

exclusive.

 

Then, abrupt, profound pain blew in like north winds –

a deep chill, tinged with icy old wounds;

 

optic scales began to fall . . .

Who would of thought pain would be my salvation?

 

Death loosed “off-limit” questions.

My way of singularity threatened;

rips in my boxed-corners;

binary constructs crumbled;

my small truth deconstructed.

 

Emptied –

satisfactory answers elusive;

a one-sided deal broken.

 

Emptied –

Breathless.

Air expended in my limited reality –

slowly dying by Fear’s exhaled poison.

 

Emptied –

Coming to the end of everything I believed true.

Now, Truth revealed.

Now, an invitation to truly live.

 

Emptied –

Pain, joy, grief, hope co-existing –

a dualistic mind cannot contain the fullness of the heart;

Paradox’s invitation to authentic living.

 

Emptied –

Of constructed truth;

Of fear and anxiety’s paralyzing clutter;

Of a contained god;

Of me.

 

Emptied –

Space for conversation – spirit to Spirit;

between me and you.

Sacred space created.

 

Emptied –

liberated . . .

dsc_0354edited





solemn waters

7 10 2016

 

 

ramsay-cascade-5

 

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 . . .





Living a divided life…

10 03 2014

DSC_0028

 

 

 

What pay-off is there to living this divided life?

What is it that whispers in my ear?

Telling me to guard my heart so?

What experiences are etched on my soul

so that living is something to be grasped, held tightly, and controlled?

Fear is present in my white-knuckled grip . . .

I choke the life I want to live . . .

Energy’s potential starves . . .

 

Still Wholeness does not leave me orphaned . . .

She calls me Home –-

gives courage to leave home to find Home . . .

Peace saturates me on Forney Ridge in the quiet mountain air –-

gives presence to welcome Presence . . .

Whispers to me in the language of wind-blown fraziers . . .

Give me ears to hear who I am from I Am . . .

Embraces me in the gift of an unexpected hug . . .

Give me openness to be loved by Love . . .

 

I know what I long for most . . .

To move toward Wholeness . . .

Come endurance;

Visit me fearlessness;

Inhabit me faith and hope —

so that I may risk opening clenched hands,

letting go of my life so that I may welcome True Life –-

 

whole . . .

undivided . . .

 

 





Weathered stories…

15 12 2013

Cades Cove barn…

Bandelier dwelling…

Historic St. Mary’s shingles…

Santa Fe fence…

weathered stories…

weathered woodSOUTHWEST 4 135_edited-1St Mary's Shinglessouthwest wood





A candle’s worth of Light…

4 12 2013

Cades Cove 2

 

 

 

 

 

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 . . .

blue ridge sunrise