Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning

Friday, January 6, 2012

The Juggler

It restlessly tumbles through my body
Like water, cascading down a
Rocky stream deep in the Cascades
Cascading down
Pushing until my whole being
Is roiling

And so I sit
Phone buzzing
Mind racing
Bits of me scattered everywhere
A text
An email, a task undone
Clarion calls for action and response
That I feel I cannot
Dare not ignore

And there you sit
My friend
Attentive and caring
Wanting just a piece of my time

But the chaos claims me
And as I desperately juggle
The pieces of my universe
The precious piece that is you
Tumbles to the earth

And lays there neglected
a gift lost


There are way too many times in my life
When I, in my anxiety, am a juggler
I have so much up in the air at any one time
For fear that if I don’t answer that text, right now
Or that email, right now
If I don’t start worrying about that task left undone,
Right now
That all those things I am juggling will start to come crashing to the earth

And I will be revealed as what Brennan Manning calls “a faker, a poser, a wannabe”

For all of you my friends, who have tried to claim my attention
For just a moment
And have not gotten it 
I am sorry, and I ask for your forgiveness
For you, that person in front of me, is immeasurably more important
Than anything else on this earth
In that moment!

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