Wednesday, June 21, 2017
“In an age of hope men looked up at the night sky and saw “the heavens." In an age of hopelessness they call it simply “space.”
we simply lose the mystery
she becomes not love, or passion
not a beautiful things whose depths hold
but merely a lover, a wife
someone who secrets we no longer seek
each day becomes
boxes on a calendar to be marked off
the sun rise is merely the sunrise
it just comes, and comes again
and then goes
gold to gray
and life, well life
is no longer about wonder
no longer about love
but about responsibility, and pain
and we grow tired
and we no longer gaze into the heavens
but stare heavily
Monday, June 19, 2017
You may have seen the bumper sticker that says, "If you lived in your heart, you'd be home now." Now normally, little bumper stick thoughts, especially spoken to me as wise spiritual advice, enrage me. I listen nicely, while fantasizing about poking a fork into the person's head, like a baked potato. But whenever I see this bumper sticker, it spritzes me into hope. It reminds me that there is a place in me that is warm and safe and gentle, unlike my usual pinball mind explosion of fear, judgment, doom, blame, and corrective thoughts on how other people should behave better, and a structured plan for how they can begin to do that.
Sometimes we just need to slow down,
Take a few breaths
And settling into our hearts
Snuggling down deep into the fabric of our being
Much like we snuggle down in our favorite chair
With a good book
This is the place God lives
This is the warm and safe place
This is where
All the fear,
All the anxiety
This is where I can hear
More than my own voice
More than the voice of that bully who lives in my brain
More than the voices of my critics
Here in this still place
I can hear God
Gently whispering in my ear
“I love you”
Sunday, June 18, 2017
If we do not transform our pain, we will most assuredly transmit it." —Richard Rohr.
The images flutter on the TV screen
Websites throw headlines in our faces
Designed to shock, and even mislead
We look around us and see anger and bitterness
We hear people who should know better ridicule an aging Senator
Who deserves better
We witness violence in our streets
Violence in our homes
We hear people once friends eviscerate each other
This is America
This is the World
Terror in London
It takes its toll
Unless we disassociate our selves
It hits us where it hurts
Not our in pocketbooks
But in our souls
We not only carry love in our hearts
We carry pain as well
And pain like love must be expressed
Love trapped, dies
Pain trapped grows
And if we do not find a way to transform it
Into compassion, forgiveness generosity
It becomes the gift that keeps on giving
And pain begets pain
This the is the Good News
When the Sacred is awake
And prowling through our souls
Pain is transformed
And we become,
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
“Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
“Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.
“Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.
“Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy.
“Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.
“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.
“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
We have a choice
To nurture pain and be part of the problem
Or to transform pain
And be part of the solution
What is it going to be?