The songs of small birds fade away
into the bushes after sundown,
the air dry, sweet with goldenrod.
Beside the path, suddenly, bright asters
flare in the dusk. The aged voices
of a few crickets thread the silence.
It is a quiet I love, though my life
too often drives me through it deaf.
Busy with costs and losses, I waste
the time I have to be here—a time
blessed beyond my deserts, as I know,
if only I would keep aware. The leaves
rest in the air, perfectly still.
I would like them to rest in my mind
as still, as simply spaced. As I approach,
the sorrel filly looks up from her grazing,
poised there, light on the slope
as a young apple tree. A week ago
I took her away to sell, and failed
to get my price, and brought her home
again. Now in the quiet I stand
and look at her a long time, glad
to have recovered what is lost
in the exchange of something for money.
I stood in the surf
waiting
for what I was to receive
I looked at,
then past,
glistening rocks,
colored shells,
green sea glass,
none of them were right.
My back was to the Sound,
Waves coming and going,
Sand shifting under my wet feet.
I scan,
wait for what I must recognize –
then I see it.
this?
a black glob of rocks stuck together
browns and grey and bits of reds
it’s ugly
it’s heavy
it’s rough
it’s jagged
it’s not what I thought I wanted,
it’s not what I thought was valuable.
what is it, that the water has just delivered,
and I feel lead to pick up
to cart home with me?
I want it to be romantic.
Maybe…
I search for romance…
a meteorite?
a mystery from another planet?
I walk the mile home,
wondering what lessons I will learn from this ‘gift’
I have just received from the ocean.
Almost home,
one more curve,
I spot my favorite kinda caterpillar,
the brown and black,
softest, loveliest velvet
crawler in the world.
I loved the feel of them as a little girl,
let them crawl all over me.
I pass it,
then double back,
as directed by intuition,
to visit this small friend.
I am bent down,
and my fuzzy friend moves along,
and recognition comes.
I carry,
in my hands…
asphalt,
ASPHALT???!!!
a piece of the road,
which came to me by way of the ocean.
I belly laugh
as I my lesson,
my gift,
becomes clearer.
I am,
right now,
every moment,
in the ocean of grace
no matter where I am
the path is in the ocean of love,
of God.
The road is everywhere!
It rises to meet me.
It comes one chunk at a time.
This is gift –
teaching me what I need,
bringing me diamonds with each step.
Living,
and breathing,
thanks
is the best gift.
We are always loved
The message is waiting in
every surf
every leaf
every tree
every song
every heart beat
every tiny created thing
every little moment breathes and burns.
Remove your shoes,
dance wild by the fire,
dive into the sky,
sing loud and long –
holy,
holy,
holy
and fly away
home.
I’ll meet you there!
xoxo
I share with you the agony of your grief,
The anguish of your heart finds echo in my own.
I know I cannot enter all you feel
Nor bear with you the burden of your pain;
I can but offer what my love does give:
The strength of caring,
The warmth of one who seeks to understand
The silent storm-swept barrenness of so great a loss.
This I do in quiet ways,
That on your lonely path
You may not walk alone.
The people gathered around Aaron, and said to him,
“Come, make gods for us, who shall go before us.”
—Exodus 32.1
We tire of believing in a God so slippery,
a Lover so invisible,
so we make little ones
that we can set somewhere and not lose.
The golden calf of being busy.
The idol of producing.
The image of conforming.
The little god of being right.
We worship the god of having things under control.
We bow down to the idol of understanding things.
We give our gold to fashion the calf of being liked.
We adore the image of a happy, easy life.
Forgive us, God.
Take away our golden idols
that have so spectacularly failed us
and give us yourself instead.
Teach us to repent with each breath.
Help us to let go and trust
your Mystery, your Presence,
your Infinity, your Love.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light http://www.unfoldinglight.net
Some October, when the leaves turn gold, ask
me if I’ve done enough to deserve this life
I’ve been given. A pile of sorrows, yes, but joy
enough to unbalance the equation.
When the sky turns blue as the robes of heaven,
ask me if I’ve made a difference.
The road winds through the copper-colored woods;
no one sees around the bend.
Today, the wind poured out of Canada,
a river in flood, bringing down the brilliant leaves,
broken sticks and twigs, deserted nests.
Go where the current takes you.
Some twilight, when the clouds stream in from the west
like the breath of God, ask me again.
I string words like pearls,
Knotting silence between each one
like silk thread
in a jewelers skillful hands.
long strands
or chokers,
built with love.
strategic placing of diamonds
where needed.
sometime a sparkling, featured,
brilliantly jeweled
pendant
swings carelessly.
always taking special care with the hardware,
the finishing is the most important.
it must stand up to daily use.
easy for right or left hands alike.
then on to a final polish before bagging
when each piece is complete.
life: acoustic & amplified 