Sunday, December 30, 2012
Welcome Loneliness
Kristen Magis in Vietnam 2012: Welcome Loneliness: Sometimes, my stomach rolls over and I feel a hole inside my soul that has no bottom. It is a profound sense of lonliness that se...
Friday, December 28, 2012
Fools or Heroes
There are a few poems from my other blog that really fit the essence of this blog, so I will re-post them here as a continuation of spirit walking...
Kristen Magis in Vietnam 2012: Fools or Heroes: The question arose, unbidden, in the dark-of-night sojourns of my sleepy mind. Fools and heroes... Are they one and the same? Or, ar...
Kristen Magis in Vietnam 2012: Fools or Heroes: The question arose, unbidden, in the dark-of-night sojourns of my sleepy mind. Fools and heroes... Are they one and the same? Or, ar...
You ARE: For Annali
In the quietest of moments,
did you ever feel
deep within your self,
a greatness?
Did you ever sense
that there was some thing
IN you
that defied all
'current realities',
and negative self talk,
and admonitions of others,
and past/present experiences
of imperfection?
Have you felt
the surge of pure, raw joy?
the deep knowledge that
you are so much more than ANY thing
you could ever start to imagine?
Do you know that you ARE?
you CAN?
you WILL?
If you close your eyes and
open your heart,
you can see
the light that is in you,
you can feel
the greatness that is you,
you can sense
the potential that is yours to fill.
The seed of God is in you.
Allow it to grow,
Nurture and love it,
Share it with all.
Monday, December 24, 2012
Christmas, 2012
So, I sit, wondering what I shall say this
Christmas of 2012.
This season has always been difficult for me.
The struggle to find and keep
Spirit alive during this season
has always daunted me.
It is a season that, for me, highlights
both pure hope and,
in stark contrast,
how lost we have become.
So, I want to share a few of the thoughts
that have filled my heart and mind over
the years.
The next poems reflect the struggles,
tell the story of trying to find
hope in what sometimes seems to be
such a shamble of misguided
and frenzied searching for meaning
during this most sacred season
of the year...
Christmas of 2012.
This season has always been difficult for me.
The struggle to find and keep
Spirit alive during this season
has always daunted me.
It is a season that, for me, highlights
both pure hope and,
in stark contrast,
how lost we have become.
So, I want to share a few of the thoughts
that have filled my heart and mind over
the years.
The next poems reflect the struggles,
tell the story of trying to find
hope in what sometimes seems to be
such a shamble of misguided
and frenzied searching for meaning
during this most sacred season
of the year...
Christmas, 2011
Christmas in This Year, 2011
Sitting here at my desk, peering out at the majestic pines, I am reminded of a night so many years past
when sitting at another desk, I peered out into the Montana snow
and witnessed as a story -- my first –
materialized on the white page at my fingertips.
Many blank pages have been filled since that tender age of 15.
Some smeared by tears from loss and deep remorse;
some wrinkled and torn by the anger rippling through my veins;
many rejoicing in hope – founded, renewed, encouraged;
some withered and pale as the words lightly touched and almost disappeared,
reflecting the weary soul imparting them;
many filled with questions, some answered, some still mysteries;
many dancing with love and glee and humor.
All reflecting a journey of soul through this incarnation.
Not so different than any other sharing this path called life.
Unique in its iteration, yet shared in its connection to the all.
With three grown children, a son ‘to be’,
a new daughter, not formally, but really,
and a grandchild, already almost 3 years old!
sharing a home with friends;
living in the space of transition;
a space between ‘then’ and ‘next’.
The space, next, to which I journey
is inspired by the lives and faith of
two blessed beings, my mother and father,
by a profound gratitude for all that
I have been blessed with in this life,
and by an equally profound desire
to give back to life.
I thought I knew what ‘next’ was,
but ever reminded that I know far less than I think,
I step forward in humility and openness
to what may come,
praying that there, indeed, is something I can offer
to bring beauty and love to this world.
only that I set foot upon this path
and that each day, I take another step,
and another.
So, you see,
our paths are not so different.
We all are challenged to step forward
again
each day
mostly in faith,
for ours is not to know the future
but to act according to the truth
embedded in our souls this day.
It matters not the particular brand of faith,
really.
It all, in the end, comes down to
love lived;
grace and compassion offered
to one’s self and others;
discovery and revelation in
the mystery and beauty all round us;
and gratitude for life -- all of it.
This is what flows from spirit through my fingers
when I consider this Christmas,
36 years after that first story emerged.
I do love you all.
I wish for you a blessed new year
as you tread upon your life path.
I pray you will feel the profound awe
inspired by the earth, all its creatures,
the universe in which it spins,
and this mysterious, confounding, wonderful
gift called life.
I hope that you will be given
the gifts of compassion, grace and love,
and that you will find opportunity
to share those gifts with another.
All my love,
Kristen
Christmas..., 2011
Meaning....of Christmas?
…………..
Away in the grasslands,
"Are you ready for Christmas?"
"No, I haven’t even started shopping yet."
"No, I haven’t even started shopping yet."
…………..
The Original
Away in the manager,
Away in the manager,
No crib for his bed,
The little lord Jesus lay down his sweet head
The stars in the sky looked down where he lay
The little lord Jesus asleep on the hay.
After My Trip to Zimbabwe
Away in the grasslands,
No house and no beds.
The little black children
lay down their sweet heads
The stars in the sky looked down where they lay.
The children of Jesus are hungry this day.
Christmas, 2003
Christmas in Wee Valley
They lived in the valley over yonder,
The Wee Ones, that is.
Theirs was clear –
work, spend, work, spend –
the mantra repeated so often,
in so many ways,
in so many places,
that those wee ones didn’t hear it anymore.
Nor did they know the mantra was constantly chanted
in the background of their lives.
White noise it was;
add it to the chirping of the red,
bold diminishing birds,
the engines pushing tons of steal
and wee ones to and fro,
the time clock that mastered their time and lives.
‘What noise?’ you
say. ‘I hear nothing
cept
the chirping,
and
a car driving by,
and the ding when I
punch in at work…’
‘I got a new thingamajig today!
Don’t you just love it?!’
‘Why…What exactly is a
thingamagig?’
‘Well, I don’t rightly
know, but I do know one thing!’
‘What’s that Wee One?’
‘It was on sale!!!’
‘Oh my! A sale!!
Why didn’t you tell me earlier?!
I really need one of those thingamajigs!
I wonder if they have them in red or purple, or maybe teal?!’
On their way home from a work-a-day,
cash in hand, thingamajigs on their minds,
‘When I go home, I
feel so discombobulated – out of sorts really!
I
miss the speed with which we make those bopzats!
And
the noise of the bopzatpoota machines – oh how they roar!
We made 39,000 bopzats
today!’
‘Wee One, excuse me…’
‘Yes?’
‘What’s a bopzat?’
‘Don’t you know?! It’s the latest rage! Everyone’s buying them!’
‘Really? What for?
Do they sing?’
‘Oh no, they do not
sing.’
‘Well, do they ding?’
‘No, they do not ding.’
‘Hmmm, do they roll?’
‘No, they definitely do
not roll.’
‘Walk?’
‘No, no walking.’
‘Make dinner, warm you
up at night?’
‘No, I’m sorry. Bopzats don’t make dinner, nor are they
food. And they don’t warm you up at
night. You can get a Luippspin to do
that. They come in 30 colors now! They come out of the department up the
hallway.’
‘But, what then, does a Bopzat do?’
‘I don’t know,
really. But, they are the rage! We had to increase production 30 fold this
week to handle the demand! You should have seen
the Wee Ones lined up, some got there two days before the production line was
scheduled to finish!’
On their way home from a work-a-day,
cash in hand, thingamajigs and bopzats on their minds.
Now, Christmas comes three times a year in Wee Valley.
Better that way.
More opportunities for the Wee Ones
to prove they weren’t like
that horrible, stingy scrooge fellow.
Oh, they knew him well.
His movie had been reproduced
yearly by the big people on the other side of the valley,
by big stuffed animals and a green frog, and now by the wee
ones’ very own preschool.
No, they weren’t like him, or that green Grinch fellow
either!
That mean fellow didn’t want to
give gifts!!!!
He knew not the meaning of
Christmas!!!
Poor fellow.
Such a small heart…
They understood fully that the measure of their caring for
another
could only be weighed in size and
number
of presents!
So, yes, they requested more
Christmases.
And, to prove their goodness,
they asked for more hours at the
noisy work-a-day plant
making thingamajigs and bopzats
and whatever else the big people on
the other side of the valley
dreamed up,
so they could earn more money
to spend on more gifts.
Because we all know that Christmas isn’t Christmas
without spending.
We all know that, right???Christmas, 1997
November 4, 1997
I just saw two trucks drive by, loaded with pine trees. Oregon is the largest supplier of Christmas
trees in America. It also does huge
business with Japan. Every year, tens of
thousands of trees are sacrificed so that we may dress them in garland and
lights for one day, throw millions of dollars of unneeded presents under them
and wrap those excess presents with wrapping paper - which will be thrown away
during the present opening frenzy.
Each year, this ‘tradition’ sickens me at a deeper and
deeper level. We no longer kill trees,
but rather plant a tree at Christmas. We
don’t buy cards to send to people who then throw them away - we recycle paper
we already have used. And this year, we
will not use wrapping paper. We will use
newspapers.
My soul wants to cry at this decadence. My heart can not find the meaning - the
spirit - any longer - of Christmas.
Christmas Lust
The slaughter has begun.
How will they keep the trees
alive until Christmas?
Commercialism has won.
How many will be sacrificed for
our lust?
The rampant spending, consumerism, uncontrollable desires
are sickening my heart.
The buying and destroying, the throwing away - all sires
a society bereft of spirit,
denuded of meaning.
A society which forfeited its soul
for one more thing,
one bigger thing,
one best thing.
Things
These are our masters - things
without soul or breath.
What have we come to?
Where shall we go from here?
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
December 21, 2012 Every Day, Every Moment
It occurs to me that December 21st, 2012
awaits at our doorstep.
And where stand we
on this momentous occassion?
When we open the door
and greet this new age,
What garmets will we don?
How shall we introduce our selves?
What words of greeting shall
pass from our lips?
For really,
it matters not
whether it is the dawn of a new age
or the death of a civilization
or....any of the other realities
prophesied.
It matters, finally,
what we,
each of us,
do
in response to
whatever is presented
to us.
It matters who we aspire to be.
It matters what values will guide us.
It matters whether we decide to live
outside of fear.
And, in a very real sense,
it matters not on which day
we shall make these decisions,
no more so on December 22, 2012
than on any other day of our lives.
For each breath that we take,
each decision that we make,
every moment of every day,
we are
co-creating.
If the world ends,
or if we ascend,
or if the poles shift,
or if we just go to work
on December 22, 2012,
we are still challenged to answer the question
of who we will be
and what we will
offer to life,
in that moment,
and the next,
and every moment thereafter.
awaits at our doorstep.
And where stand we
on this momentous occassion?
When we open the door
and greet this new age,
What garmets will we don?
How shall we introduce our selves?
What words of greeting shall
pass from our lips?
For really,
it matters not
whether it is the dawn of a new age
or the death of a civilization
or....any of the other realities
prophesied.
It matters, finally,
what we,
each of us,
do
in response to
whatever is presented
to us.
It matters who we aspire to be.
It matters what values will guide us.
It matters whether we decide to live
outside of fear.
And, in a very real sense,
it matters not on which day
we shall make these decisions,
no more so on December 22, 2012
than on any other day of our lives.
For each breath that we take,
each decision that we make,
every moment of every day,
we are
co-creating.
If the world ends,
or if we ascend,
or if the poles shift,
or if we just go to work
on December 22, 2012,
we are still challenged to answer the question
of who we will be
and what we will
offer to life,
in that moment,
and the next,
and every moment thereafter.
Shed the Veil from Our Eyes
Ave Maria
Please, please, please
gift us with peace
for just one moment
to experience,
all of us,
one shared moment
of exquisite peace
suspended above our
longings and struggles
and pain
just one moment
so we can know,
really know,
there is more
there is so much more
and, so that we can see
finally,
that infinity,
the compassion
the peace that passes understanding
the love
the light
is in us
of us
is us
show us our grace
our understanding
our ability to love
completely, without restriction
please, please, please
help us to remember
Please, please, please
gift us with peace
for just one moment
to experience,
all of us,
one shared moment
of exquisite peace
suspended above our
longings and struggles
and pain
just one moment
so we can know,
really know,
there is more
there is so much more
and, so that we can see
finally,
that infinity,
the compassion
the peace that passes understanding
the love
the light
is in us
of us
is us
show us our grace
our understanding
our ability to love
completely, without restriction
please, please, please
help us to remember
Monday, December 17, 2012
Manifest ME Through You
Don't forget why you are here.
Yes, this moment is real,
but you are a multidimensional being.
The I that is You lives in the space in-between
even as it animates the flesh.
You answered a call in your re-incarnation.
Remember, remember...
What was it to which you said, 'yes'?
Why are you here?
Step, now, into your Self.
Feel the mighty power of the ALL
coursing through your veins.
Hear the call of Spirit
in the far reaches of your mind.
Feel the Spirit within dancing, reaching, desiring
to manifest now, in and through you.
Don't forget
who you are
Hear me
Hear me
I AM
You ARE
Manifest ME through you
Yes, this moment is real,
but you are a multidimensional being.
The I that is You lives in the space in-between
even as it animates the flesh.
You answered a call in your re-incarnation.
Remember, remember...
What was it to which you said, 'yes'?
Why are you here?
Step, now, into your Self.
Feel the mighty power of the ALL
coursing through your veins.
Hear the call of Spirit
in the far reaches of your mind.
Feel the Spirit within dancing, reaching, desiring
to manifest now, in and through you.
Don't forget
who you are
Hear me
Hear me
I AM
You ARE
Manifest ME through you
I Know You - Namaste
You know that sense you get when you meet
some one
whom you already know?
For me, there is the moment of recognition...
'Hey wait?! I know you?!'
Then, the realization...
You have not yet met in this life.
Then, the awe
at the sacredness of the moment,
and a profound gratefulness
for the gift being offered.
This has happened several times
in my life,
and each experience is
so incredibly exquisite!
It happened again recently.
I find my self in the
early stages ... realizing
that I already know this soul,
and that we are really just
meeting again in this life.
If we choose to follow this invitation,
we will undoubtedly traverse a path
that offers to enrich us both in ways
that we can't even start to imagine.
It is amazing, not a little frightening,
and intriguing beyond measure
to ponder just what this connection
might, could, may bode...
But for now, in this opening moment,
I shall endeavor
to sit quietly to savor this
discovery...
stay with it and allow it
to course through my veins,
watch with a gentle compassion
the range of emotions and thought
that emerge within my self
as the realization settles in
that I have just met a soul mate.
And, oh yes,
I will remember to say,
'thank you. thank you. thank you...
and namaste.'
some one
whom you already know?
For me, there is the moment of recognition...
'Hey wait?! I know you?!'
Then, the realization...
You have not yet met in this life.
Then, the awe
at the sacredness of the moment,
and a profound gratefulness
for the gift being offered.
This has happened several times
in my life,
and each experience is
so incredibly exquisite!
It happened again recently.
I find my self in the
early stages ... realizing
that I already know this soul,
and that we are really just
meeting again in this life.
If we choose to follow this invitation,
we will undoubtedly traverse a path
that offers to enrich us both in ways
that we can't even start to imagine.
It is amazing, not a little frightening,
and intriguing beyond measure
to ponder just what this connection
might, could, may bode...
But for now, in this opening moment,
I shall endeavor
to sit quietly to savor this
discovery...
stay with it and allow it
to course through my veins,
watch with a gentle compassion
the range of emotions and thought
that emerge within my self
as the realization settles in
that I have just met a soul mate.
And, oh yes,
I will remember to say,
'thank you. thank you. thank you...
and namaste.'
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Looking Out From Within
I am struck by the 'oddness' of this relationship.
I know you are out there.
I can see the country from which you read these poems.
I can see how many of you visit this blog on any given day.
I can see which poems seem to reach the furthest into your souls.
But, I don't know who you are.
The comunication is one-way.
I understood that when I agreed to this relationship.
It was my choice, and is my choice
each day that I continue on this path.
Sometimes, though, it does feel strange.
'What', I wonder, 'do you feel as you read these words?'
'How do they affect your heart and soul?'
'What, in your life, resonates with these words?'
'What wisdom do you have, which if gifted to me,
would contribute to my own learning,
expand my own understanding,
enrich my own journey?'
These questions occassionally emerge,
and as yet, have found no answer.
I do so much appreciate your visits.
There is something incredibly powerful
in seeing that people from all corners of the world
seek out the words that flow from my fingers.
It is awesome, and not a little humbling,
and
awesome.
So anyway,
namaste to you this day,
whoever you are,
whatever your path,
wherever your journey leads you.
Namaste, my friends.
I know you are out there.
I can see the country from which you read these poems.
I can see how many of you visit this blog on any given day.
I can see which poems seem to reach the furthest into your souls.
But, I don't know who you are.
The comunication is one-way.
I understood that when I agreed to this relationship.
It was my choice, and is my choice
each day that I continue on this path.
Sometimes, though, it does feel strange.
'What', I wonder, 'do you feel as you read these words?'
'How do they affect your heart and soul?'
'What, in your life, resonates with these words?'
'What wisdom do you have, which if gifted to me,
would contribute to my own learning,
expand my own understanding,
enrich my own journey?'
These questions occassionally emerge,
and as yet, have found no answer.
I do so much appreciate your visits.
There is something incredibly powerful
in seeing that people from all corners of the world
seek out the words that flow from my fingers.
It is awesome, and not a little humbling,
and
awesome.
So anyway,
namaste to you this day,
whoever you are,
whatever your path,
wherever your journey leads you.
Namaste, my friends.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Divinity Incarnate
I was talking to her.
Beside her were several small clay plates and containers,
beautifully crafted and still wet with the newness of their creation.
They were small and carried no apparent purpose.
Yet, their striking beauty
and silent invitation
caused me to falter in my conversation.
Life is like that for me.
A circumstance arises,
often outside the situation I have intenitionally crafted,
yet so real and fresh
and asking for my attention.
The unfinished nature of the circumstance
invites me to partake in the creation.
The quiet, waiting spirit
tells me this is the invitation
and that if and how I respond
is my choice.
In fact,
my choosing is part
of the creative process.
The choice will not be pulled from me quickly
if at first, I say 'no'.
Depending on its import,
it will be presented to me over and again
in different ways
from different perspectives
including different souls
with the hope that
finally
I will choose to pick up the unfinished clay,
lay my hand to the creation,
and allow my spirit to speak through
my direct involvement with life.
A quiet invitation,
a gentle push,
a patient persistence.
The invitation - always
to live
to participate
to step out of
waking sleep
nonmovement
blind, repetitious existence.
Deepak Chopra
speaks of our bodies,
and I would add - our lives,
as vessels for the flow
of Divine energy.
We are the Divine,
incarnate into this physical reality.
We are asked to take up the partially crafted clay
and allow the Divine to create through and with us.
We are Creators.
We are one with the Divine.
What shall we craft on this day?
Beside her were several small clay plates and containers,
beautifully crafted and still wet with the newness of their creation.
They were small and carried no apparent purpose.
Yet, their striking beauty
and silent invitation
caused me to falter in my conversation.
Life is like that for me.
A circumstance arises,
often outside the situation I have intenitionally crafted,
yet so real and fresh
and asking for my attention.
The unfinished nature of the circumstance
invites me to partake in the creation.
The quiet, waiting spirit
tells me this is the invitation
and that if and how I respond
is my choice.
In fact,
my choosing is part
of the creative process.
The choice will not be pulled from me quickly
if at first, I say 'no'.
Depending on its import,
it will be presented to me over and again
in different ways
from different perspectives
including different souls
with the hope that
finally
I will choose to pick up the unfinished clay,
lay my hand to the creation,
and allow my spirit to speak through
my direct involvement with life.
A quiet invitation,
a gentle push,
a patient persistence.
The invitation - always
to live
to participate
to step out of
waking sleep
nonmovement
blind, repetitious existence.
Deepak Chopra
speaks of our bodies,
and I would add - our lives,
as vessels for the flow
of Divine energy.
We are the Divine,
incarnate into this physical reality.
We are asked to take up the partially crafted clay
and allow the Divine to create through and with us.
We are Creators.
We are one with the Divine.
What shall we craft on this day?
Grant Me Courage for the Journey, Please
I am waiting God,
for the next invitation.
I am here to serve, to offer whatever I have
to life
in gratitude for all I have been given.
I am watching, striving to remain open,
to not let fear blind me or push me into rash decisions.
It is hard though.
'Reality' isn't always kind
or understanding with one who
is seeking to give of herself
to the Divine flow of life.
'Reality' demands things...
sustenace for the body,
shelter, warmth from the cold,
care in one's age.
These demands create in me a mix
of fear; a 'requirement' to be responsible;
a wish to not make myself a burden to others;
a concern that walking this path
will leave me vulnerable
to the vagaries of this life.
I watched my parents live in faith,
following your calling,
months passing with no income
and suddenly an influx enough to keep them
safe and warm
and to provide for their children.
Such a solid, unwavering faith they had,
a faith that I find difficult to maintain,
especially when I don't see
how I can continue this path and not fall
into destitute poverty.
Do I keep my eyes forward,
stepping once again into the unknown,
living in total faith
that the path will be revealed
and my safety secured?
Or do I 'be responsible'
and take action to facilitate
my own safety...
food on the table,
shelter for my aging body,
retirement for the elder that will
soon be me?
Each time I reach this impasse in my soul,
I choose to let go and follow.
But each time I arrive again at this place,
I am a little older
and a little more concerned.
This now is my prayer,
to be given discernment and courage
as I once again
stand on the precipice of the unknown,
feel the wind against my face
but not yet under my feet,
sense my calling is only just begun
yet feel so very vulnerable.
for the next invitation.
I am here to serve, to offer whatever I have
to life
in gratitude for all I have been given.
I am watching, striving to remain open,
to not let fear blind me or push me into rash decisions.
It is hard though.
'Reality' isn't always kind
or understanding with one who
is seeking to give of herself
to the Divine flow of life.
'Reality' demands things...
sustenace for the body,
shelter, warmth from the cold,
care in one's age.
These demands create in me a mix
of fear; a 'requirement' to be responsible;
a wish to not make myself a burden to others;
a concern that walking this path
will leave me vulnerable
to the vagaries of this life.
I watched my parents live in faith,
following your calling,
months passing with no income
and suddenly an influx enough to keep them
safe and warm
and to provide for their children.
Such a solid, unwavering faith they had,
a faith that I find difficult to maintain,
especially when I don't see
how I can continue this path and not fall
into destitute poverty.
Do I keep my eyes forward,
stepping once again into the unknown,
living in total faith
that the path will be revealed
and my safety secured?
Or do I 'be responsible'
and take action to facilitate
my own safety...
food on the table,
shelter for my aging body,
retirement for the elder that will
soon be me?
Each time I reach this impasse in my soul,
I choose to let go and follow.
But each time I arrive again at this place,
I am a little older
and a little more concerned.
This now is my prayer,
to be given discernment and courage
as I once again
stand on the precipice of the unknown,
feel the wind against my face
but not yet under my feet,
sense my calling is only just begun
yet feel so very vulnerable.
Thursday, December 13, 2012
Dissolution, Re-Birth
I don't know the source of your anger
or the enmity you express toward me.
I don't know why the epicenter of your bitterness
seems to be my heart.
It's been so very long since I have touched your heart.
It feels already like several lifetimes have passed
since I felt your loving gaze.
For all those years,
I couldn't understand how what I believed to be
such a strong bond could be broken.
Yet, it was.
It broke my heart.
And even after all these years
of conscious healing and endeavors
to move forward,
the mere thought of seeing you again
set me squarely back on my heels.
As the day drew nearer,
I felt as a volcano,
long silent, now waking,
stirring, the long simmer
breaking into a broil, a frenzy
of anger, hurt, disbelief...
So that when, at last, I set eyes
upon your soul,
the volcano erupted.
There are behaviors you express toward me
that are not okay,
that have never been,
and will never be,
okay.
It feels that for the first time,
I said 'No. You will not act
toward me in that way.
Never again.'
And, the fact is,
you can't.
I will not allow it.
I am not your anger or your hate.
Sitting now with this experience,
I see some things.
First, I recognize a new strength
and centeredness in my self.
I feel, in a way I have never before experienced,
a love of self, a sense that my worth is defined
not by your fears or prejudice or anger or even
your love.
Second, I recognize that something broke in this encounter.
I felt it in that moment.
But, it was not what I thought it to be.
What I now understand is
that which broke
is the umbilical cord that attached my worth
to your judgment, the cord that tied us together
forever in an unhealthy, unmovable, repeating
cycle of hurt and misunderstanding.
And this explains the sense of lightness,
the feeling of freedom, of release, of newness.
It wasn't glee at having 'won an argument' or
'standing up to the bully' or anything so superficial.
It was the breaking of an unhealthy and rotting
cord of attachment between we two.
And in breaking that cord,
a whole new world of possibilities opened up
for us.
We can craft something anew.
We can find again the love that was once
so alive and fresh and lifegiving.
We may not take that path.
We may choose instead to be done
in this life.
And, I find I am okay with that too.
For I know that we are forever connected
one to the other,
and that we will have other opportunities
in other lives to explore anew this connection
and this love.
Regardless of the path we now forge in this life,
know this -
Forever and always,
you are my brother.
I love you.
I always have.
I always will.
I see your pain and your struggles.
I see your honest heart.
I see your soul stiving ever toward God.
You are sacred.
Your life is sacred.
Your path is sacred.
I love you.
May you ever walk in God's grace.
or the enmity you express toward me.
I don't know why the epicenter of your bitterness
seems to be my heart.
It's been so very long since I have touched your heart.
It feels already like several lifetimes have passed
since I felt your loving gaze.
For all those years,
I couldn't understand how what I believed to be
such a strong bond could be broken.
Yet, it was.
It broke my heart.
And even after all these years
of conscious healing and endeavors
to move forward,
the mere thought of seeing you again
set me squarely back on my heels.
As the day drew nearer,
I felt as a volcano,
long silent, now waking,
stirring, the long simmer
breaking into a broil, a frenzy
of anger, hurt, disbelief...
So that when, at last, I set eyes
upon your soul,
the volcano erupted.
There are behaviors you express toward me
that are not okay,
that have never been,
and will never be,
okay.
It feels that for the first time,
I said 'No. You will not act
toward me in that way.
Never again.'
And, the fact is,
you can't.
I will not allow it.
I am not your anger or your hate.
Sitting now with this experience,
I see some things.
First, I recognize a new strength
and centeredness in my self.
I feel, in a way I have never before experienced,
a love of self, a sense that my worth is defined
not by your fears or prejudice or anger or even
your love.
Second, I recognize that something broke in this encounter.
I felt it in that moment.
But, it was not what I thought it to be.
What I now understand is
that which broke
is the umbilical cord that attached my worth
to your judgment, the cord that tied us together
forever in an unhealthy, unmovable, repeating
cycle of hurt and misunderstanding.
And this explains the sense of lightness,
the feeling of freedom, of release, of newness.
It wasn't glee at having 'won an argument' or
'standing up to the bully' or anything so superficial.
It was the breaking of an unhealthy and rotting
cord of attachment between we two.
And in breaking that cord,
a whole new world of possibilities opened up
for us.
We can craft something anew.
We can find again the love that was once
so alive and fresh and lifegiving.
We may not take that path.
We may choose instead to be done
in this life.
And, I find I am okay with that too.
For I know that we are forever connected
one to the other,
and that we will have other opportunities
in other lives to explore anew this connection
and this love.
Regardless of the path we now forge in this life,
know this -
Forever and always,
you are my brother.
I love you.
I always have.
I always will.
I see your pain and your struggles.
I see your honest heart.
I see your soul stiving ever toward God.
You are sacred.
Your life is sacred.
Your path is sacred.
I love you.
May you ever walk in God's grace.
Compassion
You see, the truth of it is...
strive as I may to see the hope,
sometimes I don't.
Sometimes, like of late,
I am overcome with the
strife of my own life,
and the struggles of
humankind on this journey.
When I enter these
'dark nights of the soul'
I battle with myself.
Do I share in honesty
the crazed thoughts and
jumbled feelings tumbling
through my being?
Or do I wait till I have found
my way throught them
and then give the journey voice?
It feels so important to articulate
this sense I have that
there is hope
there is beauty
there is a way
through all this...
But then, it feels equally important to live
with integrity,
to not feign wisdom
when I feel none,
to honor the struggle,
to give voice to the pain,
to allow the confusion.
Without seeing the dark traversed,
words of hope and belief in possibilities
can seem like magic,
like a pinnicle that one can only read about
in the flowery words of another,
never experience for oneself.
So, I decide to share the tumble,
my own confusion,
the contradictions that are me,
for speaking with integrity feels
of utmost import to me.
This journey isn't all easy.
Sometimes, it seems impossible.
Sometimes, it hurts so bad that
life itself seems a cruel joke.
In speaking my pain, I am saying
'Namaste' to you,
'I see the divine spark in you.
My soul recognizes your soul.
I honor the all of you,
including
the pain, the suffering,
the confusion.'
strive as I may to see the hope,
sometimes I don't.
Sometimes, like of late,
I am overcome with the
strife of my own life,
and the struggles of
humankind on this journey.
When I enter these
'dark nights of the soul'
I battle with myself.
Do I share in honesty
the crazed thoughts and
jumbled feelings tumbling
through my being?
Or do I wait till I have found
my way throught them
and then give the journey voice?
It feels so important to articulate
this sense I have that
there is hope
there is beauty
there is a way
through all this...
But then, it feels equally important to live
with integrity,
to not feign wisdom
when I feel none,
to honor the struggle,
to give voice to the pain,
to allow the confusion.
Without seeing the dark traversed,
words of hope and belief in possibilities
can seem like magic,
like a pinnicle that one can only read about
in the flowery words of another,
never experience for oneself.
So, I decide to share the tumble,
my own confusion,
the contradictions that are me,
for speaking with integrity feels
of utmost import to me.
This journey isn't all easy.
Sometimes, it seems impossible.
Sometimes, it hurts so bad that
life itself seems a cruel joke.
In speaking my pain, I am saying
'Namaste' to you,
'I see the divine spark in you.
My soul recognizes your soul.
I honor the all of you,
including
the pain, the suffering,
the confusion.'
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Turning the Gaze of the Rich Uncle
The days are slipping by
and I suddenly realize that
I've been back from Viet Nam
already almost five weeks.
It was my intent to spend time
with family and friends during
what I believed would be a short
stop before the next call of Spirit.
What I didn't realize is how difficult
the re-integration back into this society
would be for me.
A dear friend and pastor once told a story
about a rich uncle, obese with wealth,
who regularly laid out feasts for his kin
and who then threw the scraps to his
dogs.
Meanwhile, on his front steps lay
the hungry, the cold, the homeless,
the hurting.
He never once turned his head
to thier plight,
nor did he ever question the possible
implications of his actions
on those others.
'As a country,' my friend asserted,
'we are that rich uncle.'
I witness that, I see it,
it breaks my heart.
And, the answer runs so much more deeply
than 'giving at the office'.
It is the way we live, our very lifestyle,
that is hurting others in our own country
and all round the world.
We have the fortune of being born into
the richest, most powerful country
in the world.
It is easy to forget that when burdened
by the impact of this current economy
and the strife we feel here.
But, it is true nonetheless.
Knowing how difficult it is for us now,
imagine how much more difficult it is
for someone who can't rely on having
clean water to drink or food for one's children
or safe refugee from the storms of life.
And, even if we can't see or imagine it,
our daily life decisions,
our lifestyle,
does impact people all round the world.
It is the nature of living in such a powerful
and wealthy country.
I so pray that this rich uncle could,
would turn his gaze to those
at his doorstep.
and I suddenly realize that
I've been back from Viet Nam
already almost five weeks.
It was my intent to spend time
with family and friends during
what I believed would be a short
stop before the next call of Spirit.
What I didn't realize is how difficult
the re-integration back into this society
would be for me.
A dear friend and pastor once told a story
about a rich uncle, obese with wealth,
who regularly laid out feasts for his kin
and who then threw the scraps to his
dogs.
Meanwhile, on his front steps lay
the hungry, the cold, the homeless,
the hurting.
He never once turned his head
to thier plight,
nor did he ever question the possible
implications of his actions
on those others.
'As a country,' my friend asserted,
'we are that rich uncle.'
I witness that, I see it,
it breaks my heart.
And, the answer runs so much more deeply
than 'giving at the office'.
It is the way we live, our very lifestyle,
that is hurting others in our own country
and all round the world.
We have the fortune of being born into
the richest, most powerful country
in the world.
It is easy to forget that when burdened
by the impact of this current economy
and the strife we feel here.
But, it is true nonetheless.
Knowing how difficult it is for us now,
imagine how much more difficult it is
for someone who can't rely on having
clean water to drink or food for one's children
or safe refugee from the storms of life.
And, even if we can't see or imagine it,
our daily life decisions,
our lifestyle,
does impact people all round the world.
It is the nature of living in such a powerful
and wealthy country.
I so pray that this rich uncle could,
would turn his gaze to those
at his doorstep.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Capitalism Has No Spirit
How do you fill your time if you don't watch TV all day?
What do you do if you can't go shopping?
How do you feel about yourself if your
clothes are second-hand?
Who are you if you don't 'have'?
What is your worth?
How is it measured?
What happens if you give love,
instead of gifts,
for Christmas?
What if the all the glitter and gold,
the tinsle and multi-thousand dollar debts,
were eliminated during December?
Could you
still feel Christmas?
What do you do if you can't go shopping?
How do you feel about yourself if your
clothes are second-hand?
Who are you if you don't 'have'?
What is your worth?
How is it measured?
What happens if you give love,
instead of gifts,
for Christmas?
What if the all the glitter and gold,
the tinsle and multi-thousand dollar debts,
were eliminated during December?
Could you
still feel Christmas?
Den of Theives
Chaotic noise, deep in the bowels of darkness,
shouting, laughter, squeals..
The smell corrupts my senses,
stench mixed with sweat and semen.
The air, rancid with lies and hate,
fear palaple, feeding the frenzy,
driving the masses ever further
into darkness.
Dancing, wild and frenzied.
The beat pounding, driving;
penetrating and scattering thought;
calling forth
the base,
the instinctual,
the raw...
Not animal-like, no,
for animals live in a sense of honor and respect
taking only what is necessary and in turn
giving of themselves for another.
The dark swallows
and the masses plunge;
swarming, strangling
in the sea of putrid hate
until they can swim no more,
only sink
to bottomless depths,
suffocating on their own fear.
What is this place?
Why am I brought here?
What am I to witness, to learn,
to understand from this journey
into depravity?
Dissolute lifestyles
manifest in disorders,
disease, death;
manic spending and throwing;
measures of self defined by measures of wealth...
What is this place?
How did we get ourselves here?
shouting, laughter, squeals..
The smell corrupts my senses,
stench mixed with sweat and semen.
The air, rancid with lies and hate,
fear palaple, feeding the frenzy,
driving the masses ever further
into darkness.
Dancing, wild and frenzied.
The beat pounding, driving;
penetrating and scattering thought;
calling forth
the base,
the instinctual,
the raw...
Not animal-like, no,
for animals live in a sense of honor and respect
taking only what is necessary and in turn
giving of themselves for another.
The dark swallows
and the masses plunge;
swarming, strangling
in the sea of putrid hate
until they can swim no more,
only sink
to bottomless depths,
suffocating on their own fear.
What is this place?
Why am I brought here?
What am I to witness, to learn,
to understand from this journey
into depravity?
Dissolute lifestyles
manifest in disorders,
disease, death;
manic spending and throwing;
measures of self defined by measures of wealth...
What is this place?
How did we get ourselves here?
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Let There be LIght
What is this thing...family?
Is it truly defined by birth and blood,
or do we confuse a reproductive mechanism
to continue the species
with the true meaning of family?
.............
Just now, I was taken up and found
myself among the stars,
gliding effortlessly through the universe.
On Eagles's back, I found my self,
soaring through the stars to learn
the answer
to my question.
I saw the earth, darkened by night,
all round.
Individual sparks of light appeared,
scattered around the earth.
Each spark, I recognized as one soul.
Then, my eyesight sharpened
and I saw the sparks moving,
recombining into various clusters,
then splitting again and re-combining.
But more than that,
I saw the dark spaces between the clustered lights.
I saw the dark spaces grow
and felt the dark as enmity, fear, loathing.
As the clusters broke apart, I felt
separation, anxiety, pain, hurt.
And, the migration of light between clusters
felt as a break
in the continuous connection
that is life.
I saw 'families' in every continent
torn apart by
difference, by
war, by
fear, by
misunderstanding, by
intolerance...
And I wept,
for in each break,
the darkness grew,
creating artificial separation
and cloaking the truth
that
we are all one family.
We are different.
We were meant to be different.
Our difference can make us strong,
can reveal to us the beauty that is life.
Yet, our difference
so frightens us
that we choose separation
instead of standing close
to that
which we can not understand.
I imagined a world in which
we dare to reach beyond
preconceived notions of family
and our fear of difference.
And, I saw the individual clusters of light
join,
one by one,
creating a path across the darkness,
allowing life to flow freely
between the light clusters.
In fascination, I watched
as the light traversed the darkness
connecting one to another
and another,
lighting up the world,
and creating a luminescence that shown
throughout the universe.
Once, a dark planet reflecting the sun,
it transformed,
now creating its own luminescence,
dim at first,
but expanding as each individual
reached beyond hir fear to touch
difference and recognize the other
as hir sister/brother.
One light shining ever more brightly
as each learned the truth.
We are one family - all.
One.
Let there be light.
Is it truly defined by birth and blood,
or do we confuse a reproductive mechanism
to continue the species
with the true meaning of family?
.............
Just now, I was taken up and found
myself among the stars,
gliding effortlessly through the universe.
On Eagles's back, I found my self,
soaring through the stars to learn
the answer
to my question.
I saw the earth, darkened by night,
all round.
Individual sparks of light appeared,
scattered around the earth.
Each spark, I recognized as one soul.
Then, my eyesight sharpened
and I saw the sparks moving,
recombining into various clusters,
then splitting again and re-combining.
But more than that,
I saw the dark spaces between the clustered lights.
I saw the dark spaces grow
and felt the dark as enmity, fear, loathing.
As the clusters broke apart, I felt
separation, anxiety, pain, hurt.
And, the migration of light between clusters
felt as a break
in the continuous connection
that is life.
I saw 'families' in every continent
torn apart by
difference, by
war, by
fear, by
misunderstanding, by
intolerance...
And I wept,
for in each break,
the darkness grew,
creating artificial separation
and cloaking the truth
that
we are all one family.
We are different.
We were meant to be different.
Our difference can make us strong,
can reveal to us the beauty that is life.
Yet, our difference
so frightens us
that we choose separation
instead of standing close
to that
which we can not understand.
I imagined a world in which
we dare to reach beyond
preconceived notions of family
and our fear of difference.
And, I saw the individual clusters of light
join,
one by one,
creating a path across the darkness,
allowing life to flow freely
between the light clusters.
In fascination, I watched
as the light traversed the darkness
connecting one to another
and another,
lighting up the world,
and creating a luminescence that shown
throughout the universe.
Once, a dark planet reflecting the sun,
it transformed,
now creating its own luminescence,
dim at first,
but expanding as each individual
reached beyond hir fear to touch
difference and recognize the other
as hir sister/brother.
One light shining ever more brightly
as each learned the truth.
We are one family - all.
One.
Let there be light.
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