Walk past people sealed in their houses,
silence piled up on their roofs,
into the palimpsest of the woods,
thigh deep in the smoothness,
the substance of silence,
the weight of the light.
Snow in the trees, beneath the trees,
branches bowed with the weight of heaven.
In the open field the white
spreads like a calm sea.
The brook admits you;
beneath you know you are walking on her back.
At the far end of the frozen marsh
stand among the falling constellations
until it is possible
to belong in the cold and quiet,
to be erased and redrawn,
to be a flake in this drift of silence,
blanketed by the softly falling presence,
covered in God.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light http://www.unfoldinglight.net
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Photos by Fisherman Dan @ Branford, CT
The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree
Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.
Next to grace, I bet God thinks making us need each other was one of his best ideas.
– Bob Goff
There’s this progressive shedding that has happened as I walk into my own being. Being responsible for ONLY my own life is an ever challenging, evolving process.
Several years ago, much to my surprise, I found some people just didn’t like me. No real reason even, just a vibrant dislike vibe when I walked in. I am super sensitive and my nature is to want to be liked. Yup, I’m a giant people pleaser! My progress has evolved over years of learning, and is still a work in process.
Many years ago I would twist myself into weird shapes and do anything to make the other like me, then I slowly learned to allow it to be and not prove myself, or force anything. It has been a gradual, sometimes extremely painful, learning.
Parallel to that, there has been this great and mighty internal work going on, and as I have shed yesterday and baby-step by baby-step learned tiny, mind blowing truths about what love really looks like, I have also been growing into my own voice.
It’s a rather unexpected thing for me, it’s scary and challenging, and yet essential for me to step into my calling. my purpose here.
I am being called to share my experiences in walking this path. Called to be vulnerable and speak as myself. Now, when people don’t like me, I can’t fully say, ‘Well, they really don’t know me at all. They haven’t encountered the real me’, because, more and more of myself is becoming visible.
I feel very alone. I feel unprepared. I feel unworthy. I feel I’m not good enough. I feel afraid of many things, rejection is one of the biggies.
What I know for sure is…none of these feelings matter. This is bigger than me and I cannot say no. What I have gained is too valuable not to share.
Anyway, this has come out different and longer than I expected when I started writing. I am crying so I know it is what I need to say.
I just ask you to pray for me.
If you are reading this, you are a fellow pilgrim. Thank you for sharing this moment on path with me.
As we say in Kentucky to friends as we go our separate ways for a moment, ‘Ya’ll come see us soon, don’t be a stranger.’
If I could lift that corner of sunlight that slants
that cuts a dashing swath of burnt yellow across the room,
I would swirl it around without a care and toss it
across my shoulders and breathe in its warmth,
its musty breathe redolent with time without end.
I would huddle within its glorious arms, sinews melting,
You who are the source of all power,
Whose rays illuminate the world,
Illuminate also my heart
So that it too can do Your work.
🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
While reciting this prayer, visualize the sun’s rays streaming forth into the world, entering your heart, then streaming from your heart’s center back into the world.
💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞
On the day I died
water ran through pipes,
footsteps identified people in the house and
the dogs nails clicked quickly on the wood floors above my head,
insisting it was time to go out for relief.
I still needed coffee,
light with cream,
2 sugars.
The sun was bright
and I remember the sky was that deep blue,
romantically named, azurite.
There was cockscomb,
half alive in pots near the wooden footbridge I walked over.
I used to love them when I was alive.
I touched their red, velvety, blooms seeking to feel something.
I mistook fluttering angel wings for birds,
battles fought,
just beyond where I lay
on the words of Wendell Berry –
the only thread
keeping me tethered to this world.
I sat on benches beside ghosts
of those gone before me.
I could still only feel them beside me,
I was in the world between worlds.
There was darkness, a fire swamp, screaming, clashes of swords,
I could not save myself.
God was everywhere.
I found myself in a boat,
where I stayed for 2 years, until,
in recent weeks,
the call came to step out,
to start walking on water.
Late in the day,
I stood in the bathroom,
accepting the most insulting job offer I have ever received,
then sat on a stool,
trying to act as if I was alive,
pretending to look for puzzle pieces,
slightly aware of the colors and shapes,
singing echoes of songs I used to love,
with my beautiful Robin,
who seemed very much alive.
ACL 1/21/15
I
In his little boat the fisherman
floats out on a deep
mystery that provides.
His net woven of many strands
is a gathering, for gathering.
He casts it into dark waters
and hauls in light.
Not for himself
but those hungry in the village,
from the unseen he offers
sustenance.
II
The fly fisher admires the river,
runs her eyes along its surface
like her hands on fine furniture.
She sees beneath into the depths
and sees unseen the beauty flashing,
knows without knowing
the life given there.
Not with will to overpower
but adoration of the holy
she casts, she works the fly
and waits
for the communicating tug,
the splendor rising.
With this focus,
not to catch but to evoke,
not to control but to connect,
she loves people,
and seeks out the grace
flashing beneath their eyes,
the love
rising in them.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light http://www.unfoldinglight.net
Go and open the door.
Maybe outside there’s
a tree, or a wood,
a garden,
or a magic city.
Go and open the door.
Maybe a dog’s rummaging.
Maybe you’ll see a face,
or an eye,
or the picture
of a picture.
Go and open the door.
If there’s a fog
it will clear.
Go and open the door.
Even if there’s only
the darkness ticking,
even if there’s only
the hollow wind,
even if
nothing
is there,
go and open the door.
At least
there’ll be
a draught.
The Door by Miroslav Holub, from Poems Before & After, translated from the original Czech by Ian Milner et al. (Bloodaxe Books, 2006). Text as posted on Scottish Poetry Library. http://www.ayearofbeinghere.com
Sunrise @ Branford Point, CT this fine chilly morning! My challenge was to get out of the nice, warm covers! SO worth it!! xo
But tired of land, we open ourselves to oceans, tired of time
we give back all that we’ve taken, tired of ourselves
we open ourselves to ourselves at last, sensing the waves
and great abyss of the sea beyond,
the ocean stretching on sand
and the long view on the still sea that leads to another life.
We go out as the fish go out, leaving the taste
of the rivers we know, joining the dark, invisible weight
of what we would become, the calm sense of movement
seeing the others forming our shoals, and the scales
on our sides filling the depth with trembling stars.
In that depth, return’s instinctual, the moon harvests
the long years and binds them in sheaves in a circle,
and we return too, for home from the sea we come to the river,
turning the oceans face toward land
opening to silence
as the salmon opens to the sweet water in a saltless stream…
Time Left Alone by David Whyte
I spend this day
Moving into
ruthless
radical
Trust
I confess
I weep
I let go
I praise
I let go more
I move into new areas
Of hope and faith
I walk to the shore
Every rock glitters
I talk to my favorite seagull
‘Lefty’
I can tell it’s him
When he lets his empty leg down
Speckles I know immediately
From those red-brown dots on his cheeks
They move over as I get too close –
I am not a seagull after all –
They must keep some distance
Not trusting humans
as they do their creator.
I cant resist glittering rocks
Colorful shells
The sparkling glory of God
Is everywhere
How do I not remember all this glitter?
I am aware of the world
Connection
Trusting all of life
As I live trust
into this new moment
of life
of spring
Signs are everywhere
Flowers and buds
appearing before my very eyes
All of nature trusting.
Only humans, like me,
Struggle to trust.
Only I
think I can handle my own life
Think I am separate
Think I must do it all on my own
Earn my worth
Prove my value
By hiding who I really am
Like I have done anything to put myself here
Like I can pretend that I don’t need
or that Im not enough
that I can be someone Im not –
what arrogance have I been taught?
What Foolishness have I held on to?
What silliness and damning lies have I refused to let go of?
I fall on my knees
in humble thankfulness –
I am not my own
I am THE beloved
Lord, I trust
Open my eyes
Renovate my heart
Help my untrusting
Bring me home
In Matthew 7:7 Jesus told us to ask, seek and Knock and the door will open. It’s written as a guarantee.
Our only responsibility is to want the door to open.
25 years ago I came to that door. I raised my hand and I knocked.
I began an adventure, which is healing my life and has lead me right here. I have found that the secret to curing both my insecurity and my arrogance is to seek who God is – and I have come to be humbly aware that even my seeking is because He sought me first and the ability to want Him, somehow comes from His wanting me.
My relationship with Love (because God = Love) has steadily changed and grown, as has my awareness of the mystery, magnitude and wonder of who He is.
Along the pathway I have been granted the tiniest of mind-blowing glimpses, which are almost more than I can comprehend. They always take my breath away and I stagger when fiery glory becomes visible, as only God can reveal, because only a moment before it looked to me like another ordinary bush. These glimpses always reveal the ridiculousness of my own desire for self-importance, and free me to release any need for performance or perfection.
As I have discovered grace, I see just how little this great God needs me, or you – but, oh, how much He wants me and you! It is the desire of God to know and be known by us and He was willing to become helpless and give His very life to enter into that intimacy we call relationship. We are each His most beloved and as I began the journey of accepting myself, warts and all, as truly loved and worthy of belonging, I find I can also love you, with your warts, as I do myself.
These things blow my mind, This great love pours over me and gives me courage and passion. It allows me to share myself, my life and songs with you. I believe it is the only thing that could possibly allow someone like me to fall so deeply in love that I lay aside my personal desires, to become transparent and vulnerable, willing to endure the shame of the cross of Christ. I surrender to a plan I really can’t even understand, much less have any control over, yet know for certain is so much more valuable than I could ever even imagine!
Every day, I am surprised to find myself here. I am the most unlikely pilgrim ever, and I gratefully think about these strange things and say, along with every other person who has ever experienced this amazing love,
WHO AM I, that You would love someone like me? I am not much, but I am yours, please help me be all You have created me to be, take me, use me. Your will be done on earth as in heaven. Yes, here am I, send me.
ACL 1/14/15
God does not change, but He uses change—to change us. He sends us on journeys that bring us to the end of ourselves. We often feel out of control, yet if we embrace His leading, we may find ourselves on the ride of our lives.
– Jen Hatmaker
The moon, half dressed,
slips out of bed with me.
Earth holds me in her palm,
each step, carries me out of the house.
First light leans easy against the trees,
lays an arm around my shoulders
and walks with me.
The air, the breath of the world,
cold and hard but willing,
wants to plunge deep into me,
and plunges. The morning,
wearing nothing but the universe,
opens her robe and wraps it around me.
The creator of all things,
the world gathered in her hands,
looks at this day and smiles
and leans a little bit forward
and says, “Let’s do this.”
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light http://www.unfoldinglight.net
There are no words for the deepest things. Words become feeble when mystery visits and prayer moves into silence. In post-modern culture the ceaseless din of chatter has killed our acquaintance with silence. Consequently, we are stressed and anxious. Silence is a fascinating presence. Silence is shy; it is patient and never draws attention to itself. Without the presence of silence, no word could ever be said or heard. Our thoughts constantly call up new words. We become so taken with words that we barely notice the silence, but the silence is always there. The best words are born in the fecund silence that minds the mystery.
…When the raft of prayer leaves the noisy streams of words and thoughts, it enters the still lake of silence. At this point, you become aware of the tranquility that lives within you. Beneath your actions, gestures, and thoughts, there is a silent tranquility.
When you pray, you visit the kind innocence of your soul. This is a pure place of unity which the noise of life can never disturb. You enter the secret temple of your deepest belonging. Only in this temple can your hungriest longing find stillness and peace. This is summed up in that lovely line from the Bible “Be still and know that I am God.” In stillness, the silence of the divine becomes intimate.
…When we pray, we pray to that space in the Divine Presence which absolutely knows us. This could be what is suggested in the New Testament when it says of our return to the invisible world: “On that day you will know as you are known.”
We are here essentially to risk ourselves in the world; we are a form of
invitation to others and to otherness, we are meant to hazard ourselves for the
right thing, for the right woman or the right man, for a son or a daughter, for
the right work or for a gift given against all the odds, and to allow ourselves to
be happy may be the greatest, most courageous act of all.
– David Whyte
As I approach,
it comes to me quickly –
all four seasons have converged,
are visible residents
of this mornings beach.
Here are bands of snow from this spell
we call Winter.
Here, layers of leaf-surf to shuffle through the memories,
we called Fall.
Which, seems to me,
was just yesterday?
The sands dna carries the Summer sun,
still warm,
within its restless, shifting soul.
It whispers promises of returning warmth and sunshine as I stand, here and now, in cold, driving rain,
working through markers of time,
arriving at my favorite season,
Spring!
Grief, death and hope are front and center,
as Vinnie’s beautiful, driftwood cross
still stands as a memorial to his mother’s recent passing,
as well as, the hope of springs sure arrival!
Easter carries the sharp winds of death,
alive with the eternal mystery of resurrection.
I realize there are many symbols of spring,
on this mixed media stretch of grainy life.
The all-weather gulls floating, trusting,
eternally free.
The rhythm of the waves forever dancing with,
continually kissing,
the shore.
Then there’s me,
aware and alive,
with possibilities
of love,
music,
even that slippery word,
happiness,
surrounding my steps!
It doesn’t matter
that I haven’t even heard your voice yet.
Knowing I am worthy of this is enough.
As hopes awaken,
rising strong on mended wings,
trusting the healing path taken,
the work continues.
Allowing the
shy, twinkling lights
to glow and illuminate
the most fearful, secret corners
of the darkest rooms
of my heart.
I smile and silently shout, Yes!
I promise to love and be loved!
Can you hear me, wherever you are?
Is your heart shouting out as well?
I can’t stop smiling.
Courage,
that fearless lion,
who will lead us all home
right where we belong.
Keep walking though there’s no place to get to.
Don’t try to see through the distances.
That’s not for human beings. Move within, but don’t move the way fear makes you move.
– Rumi
life: acoustic & amplified 