The Lover said to the Beloved,
“I am in love with You.”
The Beloved replied with laughter
and twinkling eyes,
“You have no choice!”
Who comprehends this conversation?
I love because I have free will.
But when I surrender completely,
the will is annihilated in love,
and this is perfect freedom.
I know this because I became
a fool.
π
Alfred K. LaMotte
I am the land upon which Winters snow falls,
Unnoticed and trodden, numb, unaffected,
Pain laid unsheathed as the spring starts to thaw,
This heart’s ever hopeful to wear a new skin.
I am the land upon which Autumn leaves become rotten,
Which once had life, now ended, now dead,
But nourishment lives with all that’s forgotten,
This heart’s always faithful to beat once again.
I am the land upon which the Summer sun scorches,
Whose once swollen rivers run dry and to dust,
Existence in stasis, be still with the forces,
This heart wills the moment to beat its own drum.
I am the land through which spring will awaken,
The beginning of life full of beauty and newness,
Quicken the pressure all barriers forsaken,
This quickening heart has forever to live.
β€οΈ
Constancy by Paula Doran
Facebook/Women’s Spiritual Poetry
As I approach,
it comes to me quickly –
all four seasons are flowing,
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 don’t know what that looks like…yet.
Knowing I am worthy of all this is enough.
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!
Yay!
I promise to love and be loved!
Can you hear me, wherever you are?
Will your heart shout out as well?
I can’t stop smiling.
Courage,
that fearless lion,
who will lead us all home
right where we belong.
π¦
AL
.
i dreamed my body the size of colorado
mountains ranges and free open spaces
thirsty arroyos and slippery canyon walls
my lungs the wild breezes over the plains
reincarnation nothing more than fresh flowers this spring
and death the blaze of falling leaves
.
yes i will live here a thousand years
barefoot and hungry
wild and free
roaming a wild country in my buffalo self
in a pathless land
.
somethings will not change and remain fact always
we are ashes of stellar death
particles of infinity
flowers on the range
.
.
.
.
.
wild plains by Adam DeFranco (C) 2016
We are waves of One.
Our purer self has no name.
Even our hollow places are full of light.
Don’t take a breath, receive it.
Know everything before you have a thought.
Be what ripens on a jagged branch,
still hard and bitter.
As soon as you are soft and sweet
a doe will nuzzle you, and you will fall.
Her little fawn will crush you on its tongue.
Exist as purple food
so that the least furry creature might
leap and play on a Sunday morning.
Be the burgundy pulp of a glistening heart.
Now fall even deeper into green meditation.
Agree to become the radiance
in the atoms of a plum.
π
Alfred K. LaMotte
I was dead, and I became alive; I was tears, and I became laughter. Overcome by the power of love, I turned into that eternal power.
~ Rumi
I always say we learn virtue by practicing not by thinking about it. I have been silently but actively observing the world around me paying attention to the subtle details and nuances of spoken and written words and the behavior and actions or inaction that trail them. Words are as much of a communicator of truths as they are of falsehoods. Time and time again human history has taught us that actions will reveal the essence of our intention. The honest but hard work of virtue lies in action. It acts upon the merits of thoughtfulness, sound judgement based on receptivity, cooperation, observation, broad mindedness and wisdom. It transforms, expands and evolves. Truth does not crown itself king amidst the utterance of words that are used to describe it. It only upholds to its reverence when it is purposefully active as it is so in nature. It differs greatly from the action of falsehood which only acts to benefit itself in a superficial accordance to judgements that are based upon reactionary egotistical self proclaimed righteousness, which is a bizarre tendency of human behavior. It loves to boast its declarations with repetitive renditions of words from a conglomerate array of them barely even scratching the surface of thier true meaning. The depths of truth is far beyond reach for those who proclaim falsehood as Truth. It’s a masquerading of words that don’t align with its corresponding action.
Truth is multilayered, multifaceted and complexed, a sort of breeding ground for simple truths that are free flowing through life right beneath the surface of reality. It is ubiquitous as space. Yet mainstream treads through a dense cloud of a fictional existence constantly trying to figure out the meaning of life and its purpose amid illusions in a perpetual loop.
π
– Lisette Hesmadt
Preach it, teach it…wear it like a robe…
Breathe it, sniff it…take it to the road…
Hold it, form it…release, than sigh…
Belt it out…whisper it ….murmur the sound…
No silence, but stillness…
Find the paradoxes, hold the tension…
Walk the corridors until you miss it…and walk it again…
You are not mystic, nor healer…until your fear is all gone…
Baptize it, drown it…rise from the dead…
Then burn and burn…
Beauty,
Donna Knutson
TO BE READ IN THE INTERROGATIVE
Have you seen
Have you truly seen
the snow
the stars
the felt steps of the breeze
Have you touched
really have you touched
the plate
the bread
the face of that woman you love
so much
Have you lived
like a blow to the head
the flash
the gasp
the fall
the flight
Have you known
known in every pore of your skin
how your eyes
your hands
your sex
your soft heart
must be thrown away
must be wept away
must be invented all over again
π
~Julio Cortazar
There is grace on ground like this
(we can say that every step we take
every day we live)
wherever we are is sacred ground
every bush we see burning holy
every rock singing glory
every bird testament of trust
every tree drips abundance
every flower secure in extravagant love
every waterfall
every rainbow
and moonbow
and drop of the summer rain
shimmers with promise
rocks standing firm in the faith
glittering in sunshine
we are made of stars
held together with a bit of mud
breathing the breath of the creator
made up of the very same matter as the universe
life / death our greatest gifts
the space between
will be shades of heaven
or the darkest shades of hell
we choose our path with every decision
free will is our constant companion
choices…always choices
our most important recognized awareness
wake up
guard them well
pay attention
dance a lot
share the miracles
strewn all along our way
π
AL
Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more.
– Tony Robbins
When the world does not conform
to the story in my head
I get a feeling that
“something’s not right.”
Why is the story in my head
not down-loading properly?
Why do I sense that the world
needs to be fixed
and I must repair what is “wrong”
by imposing my story
onto the mystery
of the ineluctable?
Yet the world is not a problem.
The problem is
there’s a story in my head
but it’s not quite the same
as your story, is it?
And so there is conflict,
there is suffering,
even if our stories are about
salvation, about justice
and equality, the perfect
marriage, the cleanest
environment, or gaining
enlightenment…
Happiness cannot arise
if we slather the world in the thin
veneer of our narration.
Happiness is the dance
of atoms ordered by
the dynamics of chaos
in the heart of the now
when we let both story
and teller disperse
like a fine mist,
when we let things clarify
all by themselves
the way silt filters and falls
through a mountain brook
in liquid transparency.
Now rest in the miracle
that has always
already happened.
Just shut up and see.
A rain cloud vanishes.
There are crystal drops on
blades of grass, each containing
the sun.
π«
SOMETHING’S NOT QUITE RIGHT by Alfred LaMotte
Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light…
Vincent Van Gogh
these anniversaries
the marking of dates
building Ebenezer memorials
from the stones of help
bringing me to this place
tasting again
the bitter herbs
the roasted lamb
the flat bread
the milk and honey flowing over everything
the fresh dates and figs
of now
sitting with this
bitter-sweet
sweet-bitter
this life
this love
this past
this practice
this present
this grateful
that gratitude
that changing
this constant
this birth
this death
this resurrection
always this love
ah this love
just.
this.
love.
always the path of thanks
always the gifts presenting
along the diamond road
this is my tradition
my version of holiday
each one
my best of days
my worst of days
feeling it wrapping around my senses
these memories clouds
wrapping around me
enveloped from behind me
me always facing forward
always facing toward the rising moment just ahead
the path before me the most important
always remembering,
along with that other Southern Belle…
tomorrow is another day…
the best is always yet to be!
π
AL 7/23/16 gratitude/tradition
Life
truly
is beauty
beauty
salted
by rare moments
of exquisite suffering.
Life
truly
is suffering
suffering
peppered
by rare moments
of exquisite beauty.
πΉ
https://www.claudiuskeepsakes.com/collections/frontpage/products/duality-of-life-mug
there’s this summer song
of cool wind on my skin,
playing sweet percussion through the tall, lush marsh grass
gentle water
invisible birds singing in surround sound
my heart resonates with the language we have spoken
the songs we have sung
the rich vibrations of our connection
over the past few days
the new sun warms my back
my shadow sits large
writing poems
this silence my gratitude
this morning my pleasure
this day my gift
this moment my life
thank you for reaching out
for breaking through the darkness
for holding my hand
π
AL
The worst isnβt the last thing about the world. Itβs the next to the last thing. The last thing is the best. Itβs the power from on high that comes down into the world, that wells up from the rock-bottom worst of the world like a hidden spring. Can you believe it? The last, best thing is the laughing deep in the hearts of the saints, sometimes our hearts even. Yes. You are terribly loved and forgiven. Yes. You are healed. All is well.
β Frederick Buechner
The Final Beast
Then I walked
straight forward
out of the gate,
through the wood,
along the river,
toward the mountain
and I thought of the future
I could make in the world
if I walked toward it
like this,
with my face toward the hills
and my eyes full of light
and the earth sure
and solid beneath me,
walking
with a fierce anticipation,
and a faithful expectation,
with the sun and the rain
and the wind on my skin
and that old senseβ¦
of many paths
breaking from one path.
So learning to walk
in morning light
like this again,
weβll take our first
light step
toward mortality,
walking
out of the garden,
through the woods,
along the river,
toward the mountain,
its simple,
thatβs what weβll do,
practicing as we go
and
weβll be glimpsed,
traveling westward,
no longer familiar,
a following wave,
greeted, as we were at our birth,
as probable
and slightly
dangerous strangers,
someone
coming into view,
someone about
to find out.
Some wild
and improbable risk
about to break
on the world again.
..
David Whyte
Adapted from LEARNING TO WALK
From RIVER FLOW:
New and Selected Poems
I am heavy
Stepping with sand bag feet
Slow
Hello life
In this dark day
I look for beauty
It’s always there
I wonder if I would have jumped or gone back to die
If I had really known how hard it would be
On and on
Do I really believe it will ever get better?
No answer comes
I move away from the question
I made my choice
I go curl up
In the Legacy Garden
On the round plaque with Wendell Berry’s words of understanding
I part the out thrusting branches
And come in beneath the blessed and the blessing trees.
Though I am silent
There is singing around me.
Though I am dark
There is vision around me.
Though I am heavy
There is flight around me.
– Wendell Berry
Underneath the gondola’s painted ever-green leaves –
I wish there was a raven
Who cares if people see me?
π
AL – 12/3/12
I fell down,
Broken
Down beneath the curtain of a world that wasnβt mine
I fell down,
Hurting
Down under the pressure of a life I couldnβt find
Watching
Others
There were times that I felt nothing but the pain of being me
Watching
Wondering
Why and how and when would I be able to be free
I tried
Hiding
Nothing kept the darkness from surrounding me with grief
I tried
Crying
But nothing kept the demons that were haunting me
The fear
The aching
The desperation etched upon my heart in every beat
The scars
Appearing
Like a chain around my soul, stealing all I used to be
I sought comfort
I sought courage
I sought loving in the hands of those that only caused me pain
I sought refuge
I sought freedom
I sought counsel in the places that left me filled with guilt and shame
I fell down,
Broken
Down beneath the curtain of a world that wasnβt mine
I fell down,
Hurting
Down under the pressure of a life I couldnβt find
Then it came
The flicker
Of hope and understanding that I could be alive again
Then it came
A glimmer
The ember of the flame inside my heart began to shine
Watching
Others
I looked inside their minds and saw that I was not the only one
Watching
Wondering
How I could share the message that all of us are one
I tried
Learning
Taking all the knowledge that the world gave unto me
I tried
Doing
And realized the healing came from giving all I had to give
The love
Replaced fear
My heart beats now for others and keeps me going on and on
The scars
On show now
Proving that with courage our soul can set us free
I give comfort
I give courage
I give loving to the ones of those that are only feeling pain
I give refuge
I give freedom
I give counsel to those needing me with kindness, without blame
I fell down
Humble
Down to show my gratitude for living life this way
I fell down
Thankful
Vowing to show others life is better every day
ππ₯β€οΈ
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A remembering
December 3, 2012
a lifetime from then to now
Hello Life
echoing in the chambers
of empty shattered walls
of broken will
and weary traveling
worn and scarred
soldier of God
warrior of the light
no longer even able
to pretend to carry the cross
just laying on it
too tired to fight
with arms willingly outstretched
scorched and branded
by Your glory
carried into the ocean
of Your love
within the arc
of silence
knowing I am
undone
by ruthless grace
my life is Yours
and now I wait
for You
to part the waters
like only You can do
I burned to ash
completely consumed
now I rise
the flame
alive
π₯
AL
Beneath the shouting,
quieter and more steady,
listen for my voice.
Be still, and listen.
You are doing a difficult thing.
And I am with you.
I have gathered up your life,
your triumphs and failures,
your powers and your weaknesses,
and I hold it all in grace.
You have died,
and your life is hidden in me now.
I bear your grief,
the river of it flows through me,
and I am the spring it comes from.
When you are alone I am the body
that weaves you with everyone.
When you are discouraged
I bind your hope to you.
When you are weary
I am your strength and breath,
the life that carries you.
When the road is rough and long
I go onward,
and bear you in my love and wisdom.
Keep your mind on this.
Forget the little things.
Remember my presence.
Forget whatever you can cling to.
Remember I hold you.
Never mind the demons and discouragements.
You are in me
and it is I who walk through this world
with you hidden deep within me.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
Let us go forward quietly, forever making for the light, and lifting up our hearts in the knowledge that we are as others are (and that others are as we are), and that it is right to love one another in the best possible way β believing all things, hoping for all things, and enduring all things.β¦And let us not be too troubled by our weaknesses, for even he who has none, has one weakness, namely that he thinks he has none, and anyone who believes himself to be so perfect or wise would do well to become foolish all over again.
βπ»
Vincent van Gogh
There is always that edge of doubt.
Trust it, that’s where the new things come from.
If you can’t live with it, get out,
Because when it’s gone, you’re on Automatic,
Repeating something you’ve learned.
Let your prayer be:
Save me from that tempting certainty that
Leads me back from the Edge,
That dark edge where the first light breaks.
β¨
The Edge of Doubt by Albert Huffstickler
Thing on my art table…
Chopsticks from Korea House – Jana
Seed from ASG Intensive – Patti
Tea light from Retreat 2012 – Robin
Blue twistie light from Andy n Brandi’s wedding
Paint brushes from Kacie’s old art box
Small souvenir dish from Italy and a pumpkin Anni gifts
along side Faith-Trumps-Fear dogtag
tiny flower pots that just make me happy
One of Pearl’s rocks with a natural cross
Big Purple stone from Bernice’s apartment
Inspirational box I bought in Connecticut
Small leather journal part of art supply shopping trip Chris bought me
Pens, paints, markers, pencils
Books – as many as possible
Journals, Bible, sketch pads
Tweezers – always tweezers
Computer
My framed arts-ing
Other things as well
each small thing connected to someone,
some place.
I am surrounded by what I love,
Who I love,
What I live.
I keep pieces of myself
of moments,
the people, I love.
and I build my days
with bricks, blocks, shells and sparkly rocks
layers of a life
built on grace and gratitude
a firm foundation
which will not be shaken.
π
AL
21 different ways to do art therapy and put your thoughts in order
Posted by The Minds Journal EditoriaL| A Better Living, Interesting, The Journal | 16 |
Sometimes, the solution to your problem just wonβt come into your head, yet your thoughts are spinning at a 100 kilometers an hour, and you feel like your brain is going to explode.
Itβs times like this that you could do with trying some βart therapyβ. At its most basic, the only preparation you need to carry out for this is to grab a pencil and a sheet of paper. Then, just start drawing. It doesnβt even matter what you draw. Within a certain amount of time, your thoughts will become more harmonious and youβll calm down.
To help you get started, hereβs what to do if youβre feelingβ¦
* Tired: draw flowers
* Angry: draw lines
* In pain: build a model
* Bored: color in a sheet of paper in various colors
* Sad: paint a rainbow
* Scared: knit something
* Worried: make a doll
* Indignant: tear a piece of paper into small pieces and arrange it into a pattern
* Anxious: do some origami
* Tense: draw patterns
* Nostalgic: draw a maze
* Disappointed: copy a portrait or painting
* In despair: draw your way out
* Confused: draw an Indian mandala
* That you need to restore your strength: make a landscape painting
* That you canβt make sense of your feelings: paint a self-portrait
* That you need to remember this moment: draw some colored patterns
* That you need to put your thoughts in order: draw honeycombs or squares
* That you need to take the time to make the right choice: draw waves and circles
* That youβre stuck in a rut: draw spirals
* That you need to make sense of your most important goal: draw target symbols.
All my feelings have the colors you desire to paint. – Rumi
π₯
I feel the blues and greens today
I experiment with running colors together
I love the oranges and yellows
They make me happy
My words are few today
Faith
Love
Life
Fly
A few more I repeat
I experiment with brushes
I play with squares of paper
These colors are poured out definitely sharing my emotions
I design things in my head
At the end of this day
I have created something good
for my soul
doesn’t matter how great it is…
I am an artist
I must create
π
AL
photo sources found at pinterest.com
When the light lessens,
Causing colors to lose their courage,
And your eyes fix on the empty distance
That can open on either side
Of the surest line
To make all that is
Familiar and near
Seem suddenly foreign,
When the music of talk
Breaks apart into noise
And you hear your heart louden
While the voices around you
Slow down to leaden echoes
Turning the silence Into something stony and cold,
When the old ghosts come back
To feed on everywhere you felt sure,
Do not strengthen their hunger
By choosing to fear;
Rather, decide to call on your heart
That it may grow clear and free
To welcome home your emptiness
That it may cleanse you
Like the clearest air
You could ever breathe.
Allow your loneliness time
To dissolve the shell of dross
That had closed around you;
Choose in this severe silence
To hear the one true voice
Your rushed life fears;
Cradle yourself like a child
Learning to trust what emerges,
So that gradually
You may come to know
That deep in that black hole
You will find the blue flower
That holds the mystical light
Which will illuminate in you
The glimmer of springtime.
π
A Blessing for Loneliness by John O’Donohue
Alone and lost
at the edge
of an ocean
of memories,
a heart of the deepest blue
beats
to the slow monotony
of a swaying metronome;
found in the crashing waves
of a dark desolate shore.
The weeping wind,
with its hidden whispers,
murmurs her name;
as nights they walked
hand in hand
flashback into view.
Haunting the torn fabric of his soul.
π
Shipwrecked heart by AllPoetry member, Halosonthemoon
read the rest here: http://ow.ly/eO4E302oGFH
when I ride the nights ragged hours
when my loneliness rages with ruthless, restless, too warm turning
when heaven is that smudge of light
seen beside the farthest star
when sleep is torn from my hungry grasp
and I am left without an inch of satisfaction
from the feathers beneath my head
when I open my eyes to the same shade of black
I see with them closed
then I feel the disappearance of my desire to conform
my self is borderless at 3 am
my pretensions dissolve into this dark
I surrender to my grief
as well as to my hope
I swim to the other end of the bed
to cooler pastures
I visit the sheep
living among the stuff
down there
I listen as they recited the 23rd Psalm
to reassure my nervous entering
in that strange world
I hear all the sounds from this new dimension
my mind takes on the shape of new perspective
alert to this unusual adventure
I cry a little
laugh a little
think about the glory of love
the world turns on its axis
I breath free
I fly home
π
AL
I am a sheep
and I like it
because the grass
I lie down in
feels good and the still
waters are restful and right
there if Iβm thirsty
and though some valleys
are very chilly there is a long
rod that prods me so I
direct my hooves
the right way
though today
Iβm trying hard
to sit at a table
because itβs expected
required really
and my enemiesβ
it turns out I have enemiesβ
are watching me eat and
spill my drink
but I donβt worry because
all my enemies do
is watch and I know
Iβm safe if I will
just do my best
as I sit on this chair
that wobbles a bit
in the grass
on the side of a hill.
π
Here In The Psalm by Sally Fisher
Your great mistake is to act the drama
as if you were alone. As if life
were a progressive and cunning crime
with no witness to the tiny hidden
transgressions. To feel abandoned is to deny
the intimacy of your surroundings. Surely,
even you, at times, have felt the grand array;
the swelling presence, and the chorus, crowding
out your solo voice You must note
the way the soap dish enables you,
or the window latch grants you freedom.
Alertness is the hidden discipline of familiarity.
The stairs are your mentor of things
to come, the doors have always been there
to frighten you and invite you,
and the tiny speaker in the phone
is your dream-ladder to divinity.
Put down the weight of your aloneness and ease into
the conversation. The kettle is singing
even as it pours you a drink, the cooking pots
have left their arrogant aloofness and
seen the good in you at last. All the birds
and creatures of the world are unutterably
themselves. Everything is waiting for you.
π
Everything is Waiting for You by David Whyte
from Everything is Waiting for You
Β©2003 Many Rivers Press
photo sources found at pinterest.com
our identity actually depends on the attention we give to things outside of ourselves
(David Whyte via On Being)
It is so difficult to see this face *
because the countless others
weβve seen before
cloud the view,
along with how we expect it to look
and how it might be improved.
Even the faces of the ones we love deeply
hide like buried treasure
behind histories of expression.
In order to see
what is right in front of our eyes,
we first have to recognize
we have gradually
become blind,
and then begin
the slow work of forgetting.
* Substitute with any noun: flower, beach, stone, bird, soap bubble, house, grandmother, beef stew, homeless person, celebrity, potato, dollar bill, construction worker, politician, drug addict, child, teacher, report card, mail order catalogue, boss, swimming pool, dog, towel, onion, computer, neighbor, planet, pine cone, cigarette, airplane, spam subject, fork, mountain, etc.
π΄
Recognition by Daron Larson
You are the sum total of everything you’ve ever seen, heard, eaten, smelled, been told, forgot — it’s all there. Everything influences each of us, and because of that I try to make sure that my experiences are positive.
βΊοΈ
– Maya Angelou
Me myself
Trippers and askers surround me, People I meet, the effect upon me of my early life or the ward and city I live in, or the nation.
The latest dates, discoveries, inventions, societies, authors old and new…
These come to me days and nights and go from me again. But they are not the Me myself.
– Walt Whitman from Song of Myself
I long to see your face
to touch the hills of your nose
your cheeks
the valleys where your eyes live
your forehead, I don’t know well enough
the crease of your chin
under your lips
your face is the place
where your soul
meets the world,
met mine
your breath
allows us to mingle
melting into each other’s dna
I miss your conversation
I miss our laughter
I miss your company
I miss your hands
mostly I miss seeing your face
with these eyes of mine
π
AL
I think your whole life shows in your face and we should be proud of that.
– Lauren Bacall
look at your hands
your beautiful useful hands
youβre not an ape
youβre not a parrot
youβre not a slow loris
or a smart missile
youβre human
not british
not american
not israeli
not palestinian
youβre human
not catholic
not protestant
not muslim
not hindu
youβre human
we all start human
we end up human
human first
human last
weβre human
or weβre nothing
nothing but bombs
and poison gas
nothing but guns
and torturers
nothing but slaves
of Greed and War
if weβre not human
look at your body
with its amazing systems
of nerve-wires and blood canals
think about your mind
which can think about itself
and the whole universe
look at your face
which can freeze into horror
or melt into love
look at all that life
all that beauty
youβre human
they are human
we are human
letβs try to be human
dance!
ππ»
Human Beings by Adrian Mitchell
A bold and sustained outbreak of gentleness
We believe in the God of grace.
We follow the Teacher of Love.
We live by the Spirit of mercy.
We trust God’s healing of the world.
When people spread fear and division,
when evil, injustice and oppression thrive,
no political revolution, program or platform will save us,
but only a people transformed by grace and light,
and a bold and sustained outbreak of gentleness.
We will stand up to cynicism, hate and indifference,
and blanket this world with compassion, calm and mercy.
We will proclaim the truth against all resistance.
We will meet fear and hate with healing.
We will obstruct the progress of injustice
with our prayers, our words and our bodies.
We will infest the world with grace and love.
We pray for open hearts and a spirit of deep listening.
We pray for courage to enter the wounds of the world;
for a spirit of peace to face violence with nonviolence;
for patience to answer darkness with light.
We pray for humility to offer ourselves
as the first to be changed.
We pray for one another, for we are one Body.
We devote ourselves to sacrifice and discipline.
Giving thanks for the great spirit of grace
already breathing in us, already rising,
in hope and love, as the gentle people of God,
we go forth.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
with wings
rough hands
feet on bare earth
I want to become a continent of angels
some common rarity so unexplored
unadmissable
that even I cannot find where I begin or end
.
let this body become a borderless land
full of immigrants
artist and poets
whose only claim to fame is that
they rushed to join this conflagration of
unbound unexplored unknowable art
to enter full existence
.
who is to say what is real
in a universe so wide
and blasted unpretentious
let us join this revolution
wild eyes full hearted
as if this day
is the only day the universe will ever exist
and yes you matter
.
come with me
join asunder
this world is fully ablaze
and yet none of us burn
like a kernel in the heart of the sun
.
now I have come to understand
the language of infinity
it is in the way you dress and speak
and hurry along caressing the earth
and me with it
some vision of your standard uranium golden globe reeking sun
the perfect curve with no edge
———–
Adam A DeFranco (c) 2016
I am always amazed at the layers,
the levels, of the human experience.
The never ending,
ever-evolving, devolving,
shifting, opening,
illumination, illusion-revealing,
conviction shattering, my gospel truth challenging,
deep calling to deep, border breaking,
darkness, light and color discovering, re-discovering.
This way of living I have stumbled onto – into –
not because I’m so smart –
but because I asked,
I was given this priceless gift.
This surprising path
of a pilgrim,
of spiritual growth,
baby stepping my way to
healing, learning,
opening, Mystery,
more always reveals more.
Always re-defining the definitions
of love, abundance,
grace, healing,
truth, error,
good, evil,
joy, suffering,
prosperity, poverty,
spirit, spirituality,
life itself becoming more with each step.
My self righteousness becoming less important
with every glimpse of my Creator, my own Belovedness.
Sometimes I understand how Peter must have felt when he saw the great sheet of unclean animals come down before him,
which God asked him to kill and eat,
He challenged with those same words I have heard from heaven –
“What I have named clean do not proclaim unclean.”
Challenging, very challenging, stuff.
The stuff of humility and opening,
the stuff of learning.
Life changing/giving stuff.
We want to think we know, that we are right.
We want approval, to be able to judge.
We want to earn our way, be worthy.
It will never work. Thankfully.
Then we catch the tiniest of glimpses of the Lover
and we fall on our knees,
breathless, undone,
aware of our need, our misplaced vanity,
stripped of our pride, our shoes,
amazed by what we have encountered, changed forever.
full but ever thirsty for more –
LOVE
π
AL
I’m convinced of this: Good done anywhere is good done everywhere. For a change, start by speaking to people rather than walking by them like they’re stones that don’t matter. As long as you’re breathing, it’s never too late to do some good.
π
— Maya Angelou
Dark and early in your story someone fearful
of your inborn glory took it
and buried it behind your house,
and you, innocently, and wise to save yourself
from their greater wrath,
believed its absence.
It’s not a pompous glory,
insistent on regard, but sure and quiet
as a wildflower’s, asking nothing.
And so you’ve livedβso have we allβ
without it, your heart shoveled over
with self-doubt and apology, as if
you have no place or voice here
among angels.
We see you in the cripples who flocked
to Jesus, the mute, the paralyzed,
bent over, shut out, gone mad.
And all he meant to say was this:
you shine. You bring a gift
as no one else, and you belong.
Your Word deserves a hearing,
and this world needs your beauty
and your grace. There is no rank
you fall below, no worth you fail to match.
Your shuttering was evil, and God
wants it undone, and wants you whole.
And so she takes you by the hand
and raises you to stand, to walk, to speak.
She listens to your song with joy.
She rains upon the earth
until you are unafraid of your radiance
and all our houses are surrounded by wildflowers.
______________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
Wildflowers grow without
discipline,
rooted in the secret order
of quietness.
Edges get rounded down.
Nature offers no straight lines
or right angles.
Wouldn’t you rather run your
fingers through black loam
than scroll through golden rules?
What you really seek
is the fragrance of chaos,
like a moth on a purple aster,
the intimate fragility
of mountain meadows.
Surrender first.
Strip off the armor
of Should.
Then fight your valiant battle
for beauty.
___________
Alfred K. LaMotte
…
Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow:
they do not toil or spin.
~Matthew 6:28
Do you suppose she’s a wild flower?
Dancing light and free
Do you suppose she’s a wildflower?
As we all wish to be
Let yourself go
be drawn to what you love
– Rumi
God made black sheep and dandelions
God said they were good
God made your heart sweet
He sees you cryin’
Oh now can’t you see
God made you and me
just like every star
to shine just as we are
there’s a garden many know
pretty maids all in a row
looking all they same are they
mother, may I? they do say
some folks see wishes
some folks see weeds
some folks see diamonds
whiles stones others see
some folks don’t get me
as I need to be
I am a wildflower
dancing so free
God made black sheep and dandelions
God said they were good
God made your heart sweet
He sees you cryin’
Oh now can’t you see
God made you and me
just like every star
to shine just as we are
there’s a sky above we see
stars come out to play at night
they don’t ask what they can be
they shine their light for all to see
some folks see storms clouds
some folks see rains
some folks see nightmares
whiles dreams others see
some folks don’t get me
as I need to be
I am a star child
twinkling so free
God made black sheep and dandelions
God said they were good
God made your heart sweet
He sees you cryin’
Oh now can’t you see
God made you and me
just like every star
to shine just as we are
π«
AL
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