In My Life

In a wilderness of mirrors,
truths concealed behind reflections,
of reflections, of reflections,
I must learn to be who I am
or be rendered insensate
by repeated assaults on core beliefs.

Enlightenment comes slowly,
questions with increasing rapidity,
but the search for answers
always brings a finding -
great mysteries often shrouded
in complete simplicity.

A line of birds silhouetted
by a descending, golden sun
dance across the waves,
and I summon distant memories
of those times, that life we shared,
when we walked hand in hand
through the surf's break.

I could die a little each day,
the waiting killing me,
but I've lived in that cage,
too long marking days
by the passing of damaging emotions;
the loss of compassion
putting a hard edge on a life
now softened by eyes
that reignite a zeal,
brought forth in a single being,
a solitary caress.

I Stand Transformed

Entirely, as spring consumes the snow,
the thought of you consumes me: I am found
in rivulets, dissolved to what I know
of former winters' passions. Underground,
perhaps one slender icicle remains
of what I was before, in some dark cave -
a stalactite, long calcified, now drains
to sodden pools where milky liquid laves
the colder rock and washes something clean
that never saw the light, that never knew
the crust could break above, that light could stream
so luminous,
so bright,
so beautiful...
I lie revealed, and so I stand transformed,
and all because you smiled on me, and warmed.

Going Sailing

August 30, 2009

My son got married yesterday! And yes, I did cry, but no snot-bubbles. Barefoot on a beach, the carnelian and azure of the water behind them and the mountains proclaiming Gods' power and might surrounding them. It was a moment I will always remember and hold close to my heart. The two of them have learned some powerful lessons of life and love in the past three years, and the values of trials.

"Others went out on the sea in ships; they were merchants on the mighty waters. They saw the works of the Lord, His wonderful deeds in the deep." (PS 107:23-24)

The person who has not learned that every wind that blows can be used to guide us toward heaven has certainly not mastered the art of sailing, and is nothing more than an apprentice. In fact, the only thing that helps no one is a dead calm. Every wind that blows, from every direction, may help us toward the port of Heaven.

So seek only this; to stay well out to sea - and then have no fear of stormy winds. May our prayer be that of an old English sea-farer. "Oh Lord, send us into the deep waters of the sea, for we are so close to the shore that even a small breeze from the devil could break our ship to pieces on the rocks."

Remember that faith reaches its greatest strength while in the middle of trials, and confidence in the flesh and complacency will never endure testing. Fair weather faith is not faith at all.

On Prayer

"The world is full of so-called prayer warriors who are prayer-ignorant. They're full of formulas and programs and advice, peddling techniques for getting what you want from God. Don't fall for that nonsense. This is your Father you are dealing with, and he knows better than you what you need. With a God like this loving you, you can pray very simply. Like this:

Our Father in heaven, Reveal who you are. Set the world right; Do what's best— as above, so below. Keep us alive with three square meals. Keep us forgiven with you and forgiving others. Keep us safe from ourselves and the Devil. You're in charge! You can do anything you want! You're ablaze in beauty! Yes. Yes. Yes." (Matt 6:7-13 TM)

A diagnosis of colorectal cancer has recently brought me to my knees, and taught me some valuable lessons about prayer. I have also developed a new appreciation for Him. I have always believed that God, who hears all prayers, said "yes" to some, "no" to others, and "maybe, but not now" to the rest.

No prayer goes unanswered. To the very degree it is fervently held as truth, to that degree will it be made manifest in my experience. It is not God's function to create, or uncreate, the circumstance or conditions of my life. He created me, in His image and likeness. I have created the rest, through the power He gave each of us, free will. In this sense, my will for me is God's will for me.

If I beg and supplicate, it stands to reason that there is a smaller chance that I will experience what I think I am asking for. It seems to me that the correct prayer is one of gratitude for what he has already done. And gratitude cannot be used as a tool to manipulate God.

I get caught up in the outcome of my prayers, and forget that to some degree at least, God is not concerned about this outcome. This is because the ultimate outcome is already assured. It is doubt about the ultimate outcome that created my greatest enemy, fear. If I doubt the outcome, I must doubt God. And if I doubt God then I must live in fear and shame my entire life. If I doubt God's intentions, and God's ability to produce the ultimate result, then how can I ever relax? How can I ever truly find peace?

How I Love

I don't love you as if you were a rose,
a precious stone, or a favorite food.
I love you as one loves something more obscure,
secretly, between life and soul.
I love you as a plant that does not bloom
but carries the light of those flowers hidden within itself.
And thanks to your love, the scent that arose within
still lives dimly within my body.
I love you without knowing how,
or when, or from where;
I love you directly, without problems or pride.
I love you like this because
I do not know any other way to love,
except in this form in which I am not,
nor are you,
So close that your hand upon my chest is mine,
So close that your eyes close with my dreams.

My Trembling Pen

Poetic whispers of a kiss

to set my lips afire -

to send my pen trembling

across this open page.

I would touch you with desire,

with the flames of my confession

as such longing for your mystery

entices me, Imbibe!

As I sprawl across these sheets

lying naked and exposed,

I invite you to explore

the hidden mystery of my soul.

Scar me with the traces

of your poetic pen.

Endow me with the pleasures where -

the trembling thus began.

Reflections on an Easter Weekend Backpacking Trip

How disappointed He must have been. His followers arguing over who was greater. So he washed their feet. They had all been given the chance to serve Him, had failed the test.

My brain cries "Tell them! Tell them to wash Your feet!" But He forgave instead. Double-tongued promise breakers, fair-weather friends; they would leave Him at the cross, or sooner. They made promises that night; they made tracks the next day. While He was beaten, they beat feet.

In my life i have come to experience sorrow, yet nothing like His. Left to my illness, questions unanswered, holding the bag, out in the cold. Logic says, "Put up your fists." He says, "Fill up the basin." My head screams, "Bloody his nose!" He whispers, "Wash his feet." I protest, "She doesn't deserve it." Jesus answers, "You're right, and neither do you."

Amidst this garden of wildflowers, these stems of gentle strength, rooted in truth, my word-petals of praise amount to nothing but weeds in light of His sacrifice. The Author of all i see, the Creator of time itself made me but a footspan on eternity's trail.

Because of Him, of what He did, I live free from the compulsion of retribution. The pain of accumulated hurts sheds itself from my heart. And Love, a Love that never fails, offering the Life I had so often rejected, taken for granted, spurned in favor of temporal pleasure, wells up inside me, reminding me that Love is only Love if chosen. And Love never fails.