AROUND
Towards a tree the dog pulls
Old lady holding its leash
Around
Intent on darting squirrel
One of many in like kind
Around
The waters that glisten
For all at sunken lake’s edge
Around
Walker’s path now crowded
As the sounds of day arise
Around
The moist and tepid air
In the morning we can breathe;
Around
Goes the clock ticking hours
And the year passing seasons
Around
To well-worn holidays
And birth dates we know by heart
Around
The cycles of living;
In time we learn that all comes
Around.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Friday, March 21, 2008
In Case we wonder...
SMALLNESS
My Lord, my God, my King,
What am I before you?
A fraction of the world of clay
You mold within your mighty hands?
A single soldier in armies vast,
Assembled over all of time?
One tiny flower amidst the acres
Blooming wild in the sun of your making?
A colorful fish in a school of millions
Within the giant ocean’s deep?
Or a beautiful shell, buried in sand,
As yet undiscovered on miles of coast?
Lone bird on the wing in a sky full of danger
Lost in a cloud of all others that fly?
A fading ripple upon the waters
Defining existence in physical terms?
Yet none of this vanity matters,
The answers to hypothetical questions,
For your ways are beyond tracing out,
More complex than we could fathom,
A force over which we stumble,
In minds of your own making.
As creations of a maker we only hope to know
In spirit and truth, based on telling words, ancient,
We trust not in what we can see with vision,
For our sight is narrow, our thoughts confined,
The works of our hands pathetic attempts
At mimicry such as a child for its parent,
Following the only leader he can imagine
And trusting implicitly the father’s wisdom -
Not only in teaching the lessons of life
But in caring for the naive child,
Reaching, needing, asking, seeking love.
My Lord, my God, my King,
What am I before you?
A fraction of the world of clay
You mold within your mighty hands?
A single soldier in armies vast,
Assembled over all of time?
One tiny flower amidst the acres
Blooming wild in the sun of your making?
A colorful fish in a school of millions
Within the giant ocean’s deep?
Or a beautiful shell, buried in sand,
As yet undiscovered on miles of coast?
Lone bird on the wing in a sky full of danger
Lost in a cloud of all others that fly?
A fading ripple upon the waters
Defining existence in physical terms?
Yet none of this vanity matters,
The answers to hypothetical questions,
For your ways are beyond tracing out,
More complex than we could fathom,
A force over which we stumble,
In minds of your own making.
As creations of a maker we only hope to know
In spirit and truth, based on telling words, ancient,
We trust not in what we can see with vision,
For our sight is narrow, our thoughts confined,
The works of our hands pathetic attempts
At mimicry such as a child for its parent,
Following the only leader he can imagine
And trusting implicitly the father’s wisdom -
Not only in teaching the lessons of life
But in caring for the naive child,
Reaching, needing, asking, seeking love.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Friday, March 7, 2008
More Poetry
The Land of the Living
In the land of the living
We all choose to die
For the bodies we live in
Do not give us life,
As hearts become battered
Our hands become tied
Behind backs that are broken
And minds full of lies
That see what they want to
Without open eyes
And, hearing the bell toll,
Grow fearful of time.
In the realm of occurrence
We’re barely alive,
Clinging to history
By which we’re defined
And deaf to the whisper
From deep down inside,
Reaching to surface
The suffering tide
Of rampant emotion
To gently remind
That under the current
Still insight resides.
In the kingdom of spirit
We ought to arrive
After seeking for naught
But the strength to survive
Until we are broken
By forces maligned
And beg just to feel
The relief we can’t find
From sources external -
The more that we try,
One way becomes clearer
In whom to abide.
In the land of the living
We all choose to die
For the bodies we live in
Do not give us life,
As hearts become battered
Our hands become tied
Behind backs that are broken
And minds full of lies
That see what they want to
Without open eyes
And, hearing the bell toll,
Grow fearful of time.
In the realm of occurrence
We’re barely alive,
Clinging to history
By which we’re defined
And deaf to the whisper
From deep down inside,
Reaching to surface
The suffering tide
Of rampant emotion
To gently remind
That under the current
Still insight resides.
In the kingdom of spirit
We ought to arrive
After seeking for naught
But the strength to survive
Until we are broken
By forces maligned
And beg just to feel
The relief we can’t find
From sources external -
The more that we try,
One way becomes clearer
In whom to abide.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
At the Time of Death
At times I have thought about dying and how much easier it would be than living. That is why suicide is such a cop-out, such a coward's way to go. Not that it wouldn't be romantic and a powerful statement to make, like shouting to the world, "I Hate You!" or like saying to everyone who has ever hurt us, "See what you've done?" Still, something inside of me doesn't want to give them the satisfaction. And what about all of the good people, the ones who try NOT to hurt others, who die unexpectedly, tragically? What a slap in the face to all of them. In an encounter with the REAL prospect of death, it certainly must lose its appeal. In the face of anonimity, would not all of us struggle to hold onto the only life we've ever known, the only reality we've been offered?
There is so much pain in this life - not just my own, but in general. It is all around us - on the news, in the food chain, between lovers, and in hospitals full of those wanting another chance to feel its sting. Physical pain pales compared with being lost forever, gone from a world we have yet to figure out. So we, the living, struggle to make sense of it all, yearn for a sign that we are important, that we make a difference, that our presence somehow shifts the balance ever so slightly toward good.
As we age, people come and go from our lives, some temporarily and others forever, each moving on to their own unique destiny. The ones who have died to this world can't tell us the secrets we so long to know, and we cannot benefit from their after-life wisdom, nor their familiar impact on our now-emptier existence. It is not their connection that we miss, but the possibility of it, like when an old friend looks us up after years of silence or we catch sight of them at a public gathering and remembrance ensues.
None of us realize how short it is, this time we've been given. Otherwise it wouldn't be so hard to love the ones with whom we share life. In full awareness of what we could be missing, we would treasure the moments together and forget the reasons why we argue, why we separate from one another, why we succumb to the demands of a horribly corrupt world. We see evidence of this when faced with a loved one's demise; nothing matters compared with drinking in the final hours alongside them, creating as many memories as possible before the potential retreats. We put aside work, schedules, and other relationships just for a little more time with the soon-to-be-departed, sacrificing even sanity to hold the hand that still promises warmth, to look into the knowing eyes and engrave them into a memory also fleeting.
Is this not the best we humans have to offer, the death-bed kind of love that forgives all and manufactures time for sharing ourselves? It is transforming, impactful, meaningful, necessary. Time itself is suspended in a dream-like state of belief and disbelief. Belief that there is hope, that miracles happen and people survive against all odds. Disbelief that we ever take for granted the privilege of spending time with another soul.
When all of existence shrinks into the tiny bubble surrounding the family in grief, the importance of the moment becomes clear. The last of these are cherished and desperate as we covet one final opportunity for communication and understanding. The definition of life as measured on the linear scale of time becomes painfully clear and the hope in an afterlife of peace essential.
There is so much pain in this life - not just my own, but in general. It is all around us - on the news, in the food chain, between lovers, and in hospitals full of those wanting another chance to feel its sting. Physical pain pales compared with being lost forever, gone from a world we have yet to figure out. So we, the living, struggle to make sense of it all, yearn for a sign that we are important, that we make a difference, that our presence somehow shifts the balance ever so slightly toward good.
As we age, people come and go from our lives, some temporarily and others forever, each moving on to their own unique destiny. The ones who have died to this world can't tell us the secrets we so long to know, and we cannot benefit from their after-life wisdom, nor their familiar impact on our now-emptier existence. It is not their connection that we miss, but the possibility of it, like when an old friend looks us up after years of silence or we catch sight of them at a public gathering and remembrance ensues.
None of us realize how short it is, this time we've been given. Otherwise it wouldn't be so hard to love the ones with whom we share life. In full awareness of what we could be missing, we would treasure the moments together and forget the reasons why we argue, why we separate from one another, why we succumb to the demands of a horribly corrupt world. We see evidence of this when faced with a loved one's demise; nothing matters compared with drinking in the final hours alongside them, creating as many memories as possible before the potential retreats. We put aside work, schedules, and other relationships just for a little more time with the soon-to-be-departed, sacrificing even sanity to hold the hand that still promises warmth, to look into the knowing eyes and engrave them into a memory also fleeting.
Is this not the best we humans have to offer, the death-bed kind of love that forgives all and manufactures time for sharing ourselves? It is transforming, impactful, meaningful, necessary. Time itself is suspended in a dream-like state of belief and disbelief. Belief that there is hope, that miracles happen and people survive against all odds. Disbelief that we ever take for granted the privilege of spending time with another soul.
When all of existence shrinks into the tiny bubble surrounding the family in grief, the importance of the moment becomes clear. The last of these are cherished and desperate as we covet one final opportunity for communication and understanding. The definition of life as measured on the linear scale of time becomes painfully clear and the hope in an afterlife of peace essential.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Willful Bondage (or Freedom Continued...)
Continuing in the freedom from fear, the freedom to be who we were made to be without the fear of others' reactions or judgements, requires courage and perseverance. Why? It would seem to be ridiculous, preposterous, almost unthinkable that we would bend our will against our own freedom. However, here I propose a reasoned approach in answer to the question of why we will ourselves into continued bondage to fear.
First of all, we are brought up and taught from an early age to be fearful. Our mothers (bless them, for they know not what they do) instill in us the fear of physical injury, the fear of failure in school or other endeavor, the fear of rejection from her or from others. We are to do our best to be successful, to be likeable, to be safe. We fear the consequences of doing otherwise. As a child, love, approval, and acceptance are our constant motivators.
Second, the world teaches us to fear other humans. We learn early on that some people are mean, dangerous, uncaring, violent, and selfish. We learn that there are people to fear. We doubt the goodness that we once believed all people to contain in their hearts.
Lastly, we fear the unknown. This is the predominant fear of the adult who finds personal freedom only to return to the bondage of living on the run, always searching and never finding the safety that is available by choice. It is a cruel irony that our own choices result in slavery versus freedom, and that the inner peace and expansion we desire is there for the taking all along. The Lord holds it out to us on a silver platter, begging us to trust him and eat of it. We too often push the plate away, denying ourselves the gift of release.
We often read or hear the story of the Israelites after they were led out of slavery in Egypt by Moses and Aaron. We laugh at their wandering in the desert for 40 years, we question their desire to return to Egypt after all that God has done for them, we show disgust for their murmuring and grumbling against the gifts of God. Is this not a mirror of our own behavior? Are we also not inclined to rely on our former lifestyle of fear because it is what we have known?
I propose that the greatest temptation to return to bondage lies with familiarity. We are creatures of habit, enjoying what we know versus what we do not, and seeking well-defined limitations versus the responsibility of unlimited choice. Ofcourse, a dicussion on free will could ensue, and would be appropriate in this context. However, we have gone far enough in understanding the behavior of our ancestors, the early Jews. While they lived among the Egyptians, who enslaved them and treated them harshly, they had the security of knowing that their needs were met. They always had food, always had shelter, always knew what the day would bring. They knew what was expected of them, and had little choice in how their time would be spent. They led well-directed, even orchestrated lives. The confinement of slavery was appealing in its simplicity and familiarity.
In closing, let us ponder the gift of freedom from limitation and the responsibility it brings. In return for bending our free will towards the purposes of God, surrendering our lives to His control, and suppressing the fear of the unknown in favor of embracing its wonder, we are given the freedom to be the complex, unlimited beings He has made us to be. In return for trusting in His ultimate and faithful goodness, His care for us as His children, His plans for our life (over and above our own - ouch!), and His knowledge of what is best for us (over and above our own - ouch!) we are given the ultimate in freedom! This is the freedom to care ONLY about what God thinks, about only HIS judgement of us, and to pursue the life He lays out in our spirits. All striving, all doubt, all opinion of man is cast away. In place of allowing our lives to be defined by other humans, we live a life defined by our Creator and the lover of our souls. Hallelujah.
First of all, we are brought up and taught from an early age to be fearful. Our mothers (bless them, for they know not what they do) instill in us the fear of physical injury, the fear of failure in school or other endeavor, the fear of rejection from her or from others. We are to do our best to be successful, to be likeable, to be safe. We fear the consequences of doing otherwise. As a child, love, approval, and acceptance are our constant motivators.
Second, the world teaches us to fear other humans. We learn early on that some people are mean, dangerous, uncaring, violent, and selfish. We learn that there are people to fear. We doubt the goodness that we once believed all people to contain in their hearts.
Lastly, we fear the unknown. This is the predominant fear of the adult who finds personal freedom only to return to the bondage of living on the run, always searching and never finding the safety that is available by choice. It is a cruel irony that our own choices result in slavery versus freedom, and that the inner peace and expansion we desire is there for the taking all along. The Lord holds it out to us on a silver platter, begging us to trust him and eat of it. We too often push the plate away, denying ourselves the gift of release.
We often read or hear the story of the Israelites after they were led out of slavery in Egypt by Moses and Aaron. We laugh at their wandering in the desert for 40 years, we question their desire to return to Egypt after all that God has done for them, we show disgust for their murmuring and grumbling against the gifts of God. Is this not a mirror of our own behavior? Are we also not inclined to rely on our former lifestyle of fear because it is what we have known?
I propose that the greatest temptation to return to bondage lies with familiarity. We are creatures of habit, enjoying what we know versus what we do not, and seeking well-defined limitations versus the responsibility of unlimited choice. Ofcourse, a dicussion on free will could ensue, and would be appropriate in this context. However, we have gone far enough in understanding the behavior of our ancestors, the early Jews. While they lived among the Egyptians, who enslaved them and treated them harshly, they had the security of knowing that their needs were met. They always had food, always had shelter, always knew what the day would bring. They knew what was expected of them, and had little choice in how their time would be spent. They led well-directed, even orchestrated lives. The confinement of slavery was appealing in its simplicity and familiarity.
In closing, let us ponder the gift of freedom from limitation and the responsibility it brings. In return for bending our free will towards the purposes of God, surrendering our lives to His control, and suppressing the fear of the unknown in favor of embracing its wonder, we are given the freedom to be the complex, unlimited beings He has made us to be. In return for trusting in His ultimate and faithful goodness, His care for us as His children, His plans for our life (over and above our own - ouch!), and His knowledge of what is best for us (over and above our own - ouch!) we are given the ultimate in freedom! This is the freedom to care ONLY about what God thinks, about only HIS judgement of us, and to pursue the life He lays out in our spirits. All striving, all doubt, all opinion of man is cast away. In place of allowing our lives to be defined by other humans, we live a life defined by our Creator and the lover of our souls. Hallelujah.
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