life: acoustic & amplified
poetry, quotes & thoughts about life
Archive for the month “October, 2011”
Been thinking about tenderness…
It is an era of toughness. We all have to fight for every inch of ground we get, right? We put up shields and take up swords to fight our battles – in the world and in our relationships. People are edgy, short-wired, always on the edge of a fight. Life is hard, trust is very hard to find and we continue to harden against it all. We seem to have forgetten about tenderness.
I don’t know about you, but I need tenderness. I need to give it and I need to feel it – especially from the ones I love the most. Tenderness is not an easy thing to acheive, it takes openess and trust between people to be able to create it. It is special.
So, I am throwing the question to the universe. Any ideas on how we can begin to bring tenderness back into our lives?
It all starts with a choice, right?
Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Half a league half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred:
‘Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns’ he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
‘Forward, the Light Brigade!’
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do & die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d & thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack & Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke,
Shatter’d & sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse & hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
“The Charge of the Light Brigade” by Alfred Tennyson. Public domain.
A Way of Living
Zig Ziglar, has a way with words. He said, “When I speak, people will occasionally say…’Zig, I loved your talk, but for me, motivation doesn’t last!’ I always tell them…bathing doesn’t either. That’s why I recommend it daily.”
I recently read a book called, ‘One Thousand Gifts’ by Ann Voskamp http://onethousandgifts.com/, which is about living a life of thanksgiving – no matter what your circumstances.
It is an amazingly beautiful book which is now on my short list of all time favs, along with The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho http://harpercollins.com/books/The-Alchemist-Paulo-Coelho/?isbn=9780061122415 and The Shack by William P. Young http://theshackbook.com/.
There is a thought which makes perfect sense, even though in today’s world, it does not seem to be very popular – in order to get something different, you must DO something different. Along with this thought, the truth of Zig Ziglar’s statement resounds through the air, it must become a way of living. Much more important than bathing, if we are going to create happiness, we must always be in awareness of our choices.
Each of our lives are valuable and important. Our living demands and deserves our attention. We are responsible for our choices and for our own happiness. We must stay aware of what we want in our lives. If you are not happy and you want to be happy, then you must do something differently than you are doing now if you want happiness in your life. This is not about easy – anything of value is never about easy, but it is possible! Our lives have so much more value than most of us even consider.
When I set out, many years ago now, I was a mess. I still am – but now I know the truth, I am a beautiful mess with God as my helper. I have nothing to brag of on my own, but I am the apple of God’s eye. I was broken into millions of pieces by abuse, control, manipulation, loss mistakes, grief and disillusion. With God’s help, I was determined to do it differently than I had seen, and done, all my life. With the words of Jesus in Matthew chapters 5, 6 & 7 to help me with my choices, and by taking Psalm 37 to heart and not trusting to my own selfish way of thinking, I decided I would not fight for ‘fairness’ from others, but instead I would try only to work on my own heart and life. I was determined to refuse bitterness, anger or victimhood in my life. I knew I had a very small and limited view of life and so my faith was in something bigger than myself.
In order to do this I had to stay in a place of constant awareness. I had to choose to face my truth. Choose to battle the darkness within my heart. Choose forgiveness for myself and those around me. Choose to look for the good. Choose to look for the miracles everyday, and everyday I found something good to smile about. Miracles abounded! Many of my wounds have healed, my scars remain. I have learned to love them – as they are the reminders of what God has done for me. They keep me on this path of learning and sharing with others what I have I lived.
Life continues to challenge and every day I must ‘bathe’ in inspiration, I must continue to choose to make the choices towards happiness. This is my life and what I do yesterday is not really very important – it is what I do today that always matters! Every moment matters. Over and over I have made the choice towards love and forgiveness. Every time I make the choice it leads me further into joy, peace and the unconditional, unlimited love of God. I am determined, with God’s amazing grace, to continue.
It is very good!
Roadside Grave
A garden and a fence,
I know we all want it,
but sometimes the Promise
is not the abundance and security we crave
but an abiding presence
that walks with us
even as we lead others home,
and if we’ve walked with them
as we ourselves have been accompanied
then we’ve known heaven,
and if our steps were hope for someone tired
and wandering, even if we were, too,
then we’ve been in the right place,
and if we’ve pointed someone,
even with unsure hands, toward their wholeness,
then we have made a great journey,
and if on our way we’ve loved someone on theirs
then we’ve rested in peace,
and if we’ve fond belonging
not in a place but a way of going,
and lived on pure, uncultivated gift,
and trusted the unseen companion,
and if we’ve found holiness on the way,
and wonder, even on a road that was
mostly mystery and never finished,
even if we never really arrived,
but never gave up,
then even an unmarked grave
out behind a gas station
at the edge of a desert
with names in our pocket
is good enough.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
If
If the seas were yellow.
If the sun was green.
What would the major
difference be?
If coffee was blue,
And so was a tree.
Would I look at life
any differently?
If people were orange.
Aliens red.
We we still hate each other?
Would we still be scared?
If dogs and cats all
looked the same
What would happen
when you called their name?
If life is not all
black and white.
What would happen if
we walked by faith?
If we let go,
live love alone.
Will our hearts change
as we make our way home?
AL
8/25/11
Have a great Football Day!
If Life Were Like Touch Football
by Julie Cadwallader-Staub
Driving north on Route 2A
from Vermont to Maine
listening to the news:
—the New England Patriots coach was caught
trying to videotape the handsignals of the New York
Giants—
I remember how we six sisters
would recruit a few boys from the neighborhood
for a pick-up game of touch football in the street,
how we’d break into teams,
huddle around whomever was chosen to be qb,
how the qb would extend her left palm, flat,
into the middle of the huddle,
plant the index finger of her right hand in the center of her
palm, and then
with finger motions and whispers,
she would diagram who was to go where and when,
in order to so confuse and fool the other team
that one of us could break free
and go long.
Oh that feeling
of running as fast as I could
extending my arms, my hands, my fingers
as far as I could
watching that spiraling bullet of a football,
reminding myself:
if you can touch it,
you can catch it.
If you can touch it,
you can catch it.
“If Life Were Like Touch Football” by Julie Cadwallader-Staub (www.juliecspoetry.com) from Face to Face; A Poetry Collection, Cascadia Publishing House, 2010, used by permission, all rights reserved.
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