Who will be as honest in small things as in great things;
Who will make no compromise with wrong;
Whose ambitions are not confined to their own selfish desires;
Who do not believe that shrewdness, cunning and hardheadedness are the best qualities for winning success;
Who are not ashamed or afraid to stand for the truth when it is unpopular;
Who can say “no” with emphasis, although the rest of the world says “yes”.
💪🏽
– Ted w. Engstrom, from Motivation to last a lifetime
It doesn’t change when we stare at it from across the room. It doesn’t change when we sit in prayer and wish it away. It doesn’t change when we skirt the edges of the shadow. It doesn’t change when we pretend it’s all Go(o)d. It changes when we cross the sacred battleground willing to die to our truth. It changes when we look the lie in the eye until it has nowhere left to hide. It changes when we pick up the sword of truth and cut the falsity until it bleeds right through. The era of the sacred activist is upon us. Not the warrior run amok, but the benevolent warrior who fights for our right to the light. Some battles are worth fighting.
💪🏽
– Jeff Brown
It’s not easy
to do the hard thing
to lose
to stand
to eat
to sleep
alone
to wait
to be patient
to be strong
to allow the pain
the grief
the tears of exhaustion
frustration
weariness
to press on
to refuse to settle
to believe in spite of loss
to keep the fire warm
to build wells
to send out love
to melt your defenses
to keep touching the lepers
to allow healing to come
to ruthlessly let go
to remain open
and ready
to keep saying yes
Nothing happens by chance, no one goes on a quest without a reason, without the pull of the magnet there is no action.
💞
– Rumi
When all the world is young, lad,
And all the trees are green;
And every goose a swan, lad,
And every lass a queen;
Then hey for boot and horse, lad,
And round the world away;
Young blood must have its course, lad,
And every dog his day.
When all the world is old, lad,
And all the trees are brown;
And all the sport is stale, lad,
And all the wheels run down;
Creep home, and take your place there,
The spent and maimed among:
God grant you find one face there,
You loved when all was young.
🌳
Young and Old by Charles Kingsley
I lay and watched your final breath
Lay in a pool of steel, blood and nashing teeth
All knew your smile and humor
I saw the life you were to live
So much love you left behind
So much more you had left to give.
Every breath I took was fire
Not desire, No silent repose
That life I was given back was given to chasing ghosts
No action, no deed, nothing ever was my own
From reverie to taps, a life spent chasing ghosts.
In times such as this,
What is born of such circumstance?
Death gives birth to so much mourning
That spawns life and living.
Your death gave birth to me
Achievements you will never see
Tears, monuments, poetry and prose
You gave your life,
I gave you those.
Just another life spent chasing ghosts.
👻
Chasing Ghosts by Charles Cooper
And then there comes a moment
when all you have suffered,
all you have learned,
all you have lost and found,
rise up and become.
and suddenly you are
here,
you are
who you dreamed of being,
so many years ago.
suddenly you have arrived
at what you caught glimpses of
for so many years,
and the search,
the free fall of broken dreams,
broken hearts,
broken everything,
tumbling down rabbit holes,
stumbling over the feet
of your own lack of knowledge,
is over.
you find yourself on solid ground.
stable.
steady.
raising your Ebenezer,
those tributes to God,
for all the mighty stones of help,
building this foundation,
on the solid rocks of your soul
you know so well.
and though the pilgrimage may continue,
though the journey is definitely not over,
though life is fragile,
and security an illusion.
there is a new sureness to your step,
a trusting unshakable,
a calm in it all,
a new assurance of provision,
a new traveling song to be sung as you walk forward,
always forward.
always pilgrim ready for new adventures.
forgetting the names of what lay behind,
you press on to your calling,
the prize set before,
reveling in the mercies, ever new,
for each new day.
there is no stopping now.
you have found something
which cannot ever be taken.
you have arrived here by your own determination,
reached a place,
both spiritual and physical,
a place of such magnitude
the light shines from every angle,
it has sealed up the oldest sores,
bound up the deepest wounds,
satisfied the deepest longings,
changed everything,
settled old scores with finality.
no longer will you settle for less than you deserve.
no more will you tolerate anything less than your own best and highest offerings.
you must be all you can be.
that is all.
gratitude fills you for this place,
a place so lovely,
it can bear up
even under the weight
of your hearts wildest desires,
with just this simple name
it resounds inside our souls like a bell –
home
yes, beloved,
you are home.
right where you belong.
🏡
AL
This road is not for the timid or the faint of heart. not at all. But there is no other road. No one will simply wave a magical wand over you. It is a road of destruction and the question is, “How much are you willing to give up? How much can you endure?
LIFE – the temptation is always to reduce it to size. A bowl of cherries. A rat race. Amino acids. Even to call it a mystery smacks of reductionism. It is the mystery.
As far as anybody seems to know, the vast majority of things in the universe do not have whatever life is. Sticks, stones, stars, space – they simply are. A few things are and are somehow alive to it. They have broken through into Someone, or Something has broken through into them. Even a jellyfish, a butternut squash. They’re in it with us. We’re all in it together, or it in us. Life is it. Life is with.
After lecturing learnedly on miracles, a great theologian was asked to give a specific example of one. “There is only one miracle,” he answered. “It is life.”
Have you wept at anything during the past year?
Has your heart beat faster at the sight of young beauty?
Have you thought seriously about the fact that someday you are going to die?
More often than not, do you really listen when people are speaking to you instead of just waiting for your turn to speak?
Is there anybody you know in whose place, if one of you had to suffer great pain, you would volunteer yourself?
If your answer to all or most of these questions is no, the chances are that you’re dead.
💃🏻
~ Frederick Buechner
originally published in Wishful Thinking and later in Beyond Words
maybe we should redefine the human body
this fleeting flash of existence
into something more manageable
possibly use an oracle from a lost tongue
or something children can grab
.
even the physical fact of your face
stubble of rough beard
its really an undiscovered haven of wilderness preserves
or some flashing blue temple of luminous fibers
.
you are a cloud capped tower
the souls fiery predilection
untamable fire
a great globe
a gorgeous palace
melting into thin air
.
this coat of you
garment of flesh and blood
a miracle of armor protecting us from dust and plague
a kaleidoscope moving at the speed of light
provoking an epiphany of star poems
.
law me down a border on the edge of this constellation
so I can escape an ejected primordial comet of revolutionary escapades
before too long let us each and all reclaim human regeneration
and so welcome the clean space to become perfected art
.
you –
this blinding flash of condensed atoms
breast arms and legs
turmoil totally unmanageable
welcome me into this new undefinable rouge ecstasy
I wonder if writing this poem
will spill you out of me
through my fingertips
will the ink become your blood
this paper your skin
for me to touch
again and again?
I wonder if stretching my hands to the sky,
while standing on my tiptoes
will release your wings
so you can fly free with me
into the starry sky
discovering all the worlds we have inside?
I wonder if I stand as tall, and as still, as a tree
you will come to me
climb up inside me
twist your arms and legs into my branches
hold me close and never let me go?
I wonder if I sing you a love song
if I will become a part your soul
and you part of mine
both of us sewn within these chords
of mine and yours
absorbing each other
into our very dna?
Will we become each other?
Forever becoming each other’s other?
mirrors of beauty
to dance inside the aleph
where heaven meets the earth?
The opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.
/ Elie Wiesel
Pomme Frites
drizzled with truffle oil,
sprinkled with sea salt…
who can stop,
once you’ve tasted heaven?
Why have we been taught to protect our hearts?
to live without passion?
told that our sensitivity is a weakness,
not a gift?
We settle for what we consider control,
which is a sham,
an illusion of the most fragile,
arrogant tomfoolery.
We shut down,
become indifferent,
avoid the messy feelings,
shields holding our hearts at bay,
afraid of breaking,
in desperation, keeping grief out of our business,
allowing life, and love, to go limp and cold,
lying in the oily, paper-lined, basket,
no one wants to eat this.
What will it take to taste ourselves again?
to reach for another emotion,
and then another,
unable to resist,
as we do for another hot, crunchy, delicious french fry?
Only when we allow all of our emotions,
the full spectrum of our living,
pain and sorrow,
love and joy,
all felt passionately
within our living moments,
our numbered days,
can we become our true selves,
will we allow our highest and best to be revealed?
Only then, can we even begin to step into our lives,
our true hearts,
the love, which we truly deserve,
our humanity.
Once we have have been stripped of our need for perfection,
love begins,
once we get a taste of this,
we can’t stop reaching,
exploring the shadows,
and the light,
eating the good fruit of the ground,
opening further and further
to the mystery dug in this ground.
Only then can we begin to open into our own unique and precious gifts
Only then,are we finally ready to begin authentically sharing ourselves,
and our gifts,
with others.
🍟
AL
let us never forget to make our days count and be aware that how we live, and what we leave behind us, matters.
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
💞
Love After Love by Derek Walcott
I want to make a poem
that slips into the heart stream
quietly, with no great splash
just a graceful entry,
with minimal ripples
which plunges deeply upon entering
and allows the mud to settle gracefully around it.
I want to make a poem
which allows the heart to trust,
to open,
to flower in it’s own time
knowing, for sure,
it is dependable,
steady,
Words written to last a lifetime,
through the fiercest storms,
though the world burn,
and the mountains crumble.
Words of love
so beautiful
so eternal
they come to life
each time they are read,
or spoken,
and anyone who dares to read the poem I make
cannot help but
find within themselves
clouds of peace
wrapped up in thick blankets of joy
and will forever know for sure
they are
beloved
💞
AL
I smiled at myself
in the mirror this morning
said, ‘good morning’
to the crazy haired girl
looking at me with happy eyes
I make happy coffee
and smile as the heaven-brew
hits morning tastebuds
I have many thoughts this morning
plans and inspiration
floating through
I smile at the fresh pink fuzz
on the backyard tree
at the birds hopping through grass
at the dirty pig statue
looking so perfectly thrilled
To be so dirty
I believe I will live this quote today:
The only thing that ultimately matters is to eat an ice cream
cone, play a slide trombone, plant a small tree, good God, now
“Even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me” (Psalm 139:10).
You look for Me. But you don’t need to look far.
Oh, trust Me. Trust Me: when I say I am with you, nothing can separate you from my love. This is true.
Come deeper.
Drink of these roots that do more than sustain. Yes, they hold you up. Yes, they let you reach high, to a new place, with Me. Yes, they give you courage, knowing you are held, knowing you will not topple. The stream that nourishes you will never run dry.
You do not do the planting in the best soil. That is for Me to do. You do not decide the weather—whether the sun will shine or rain will fall. You do not know when storms will bend your branches, the wind whipping off your leaves. You do not know when a branch will need to be cut, a root adjusted, fertilizer poured in and mixed with rich soil.
I am the one who cares for you, my love. I am the one who bends low, my hand upon you, my breath the sweet aroma of your soul.
Come, child. I take your concerns. I’ve got you.
I’ve got you.
I see you and care for you. You are growing.
You are becoming more and more yourself.
Oh, how I love to tend to you and be with you! You are the one for whom I bend low and you see Me.
I am so close.
I asked the earth, I asked the sea and the deeps, among the living animals, and things that creep. I asked the winds that blow, I asked the heavens, the sun, the moon, the stars, and to all things that stand at the doors of my flesh…My question was the gaze I turned to them. Their answer was their beauty.
– St Augustine
Lovers find secret places inside this violent world
Where they make transactions with beauty. – Rumi
Close your eyes.
Fall in love.
Stay there.
– Rumi
We live, shields up,
prepared for battle,
expecting war.
We harden ourselves,
with the best of intentions.
Our best defense is protective prevarication.
Our best offense is distracting laughter.
Violence becomes a way of life.
Tenderness becomes a thing we try to remove from our children
as early as possible.
We think we know this –
if we can control the carnage,
if we don’t allow our weaknesses to drag behind us
like toilet paper stuck to our shoe,
No vulnerabilities allowed to peak out like saggy undergarments.
No imperfections leaking out of our ears or fingertips,
we’ll win.
We got this.
We set life up without possibility of change,
without allowing any new circumstances to come to us…
then love comes
with it’s un-understandable mystery
and finds us not ready.
Who could ever be ready for this?
then we seek places,
benches, beaches, back seats…
places to share with the other.
unexpected moments of joy and connection
find us at newly found secret spots
where shields are lowered,
vulnerability given,
tenderness ruthlessly
invades the moment
and beauty is transacted.
soul’s mingle,
hands touch.
Life gets messy and wet.
Car windows steam up on drizzly mornings
as love comes peeking through
working to melt stony hearts,
to return us to joyful living
these are the moments life was made for,
two souls torn from the same clay,
loving each other for a million years and more,
suddenly find each other within the same moment,
and it takes our breath away.
life: acoustic & amplified 