All that you touch, you change. All that you change, changes you.
– Octavia E. Butler
fierce surrender
relentlessly engaged
In a loud and howling world, it’s in the silence of a broken heart that the chambers of you can hear the sound of God speaking. It’s in the emptiness that happens in the wake of a broken heart, that God fills you with Himself.
Soundlessly, relentlessly praying through your spaces of brokenness makes the heart bigger, until you hold the gift of God alone.
I memorize the white of the moon. Freeze frame the Farmer grinning in the white light of it there on the tractor seat, the peak of his feed cap pulled low over his face. We get to inhale. We get to live every day like it might be our last —- because one of these days, we’re guaranteed to be right.
We get to surrender to the glory, to the weight of it coming through the thinning sky, and there’s nothing in this world that’s normal — there’s only growing blind to the glory. There’s only growing blind to the injustice, to the blood on our own hands, to the love we could make, to the One who says, “Holy Father, keep them in Your name…. —- that they may be one, even as we are one” (John 17:11) to the truth that we all belong to one another. It’s the cynics who wear armour to shield the heart from all this beauty that wounds.
You are perishable here.
Taste the moments accordingly.
Taste the space between every breath like it is bread, the space between the stars where you and he are just for now, the space between you and faces you love and being here no more, the spaces between the pain, between you and streets of grief, between you and injustice and war and mothers cradling their babies in fear, and learn to love before it’s too late. I need to etch that into me.
You are perishable here, Taste the moments accordingly —
You get to decide whether you are going to taste it, all of it and know that God is good and enjoy Him and make your life about others tasting His goodness too.
You get to decide whether you’re going to spend your one life trying to make an impression and look good — or make a difference and do good.
You don’t get long here before you get to be a memory — so make your life about getting thirsty people glasses of water.
💧
– Ann Voskamp
blog: aholyexperience.com
Isaiah 6
There were banks of candles flickering in the distance and clouds of incense thickening the air with holiness and stinging his eyes, and high above him, as if it had always been there but was only now seen for what it was (like a face in the leaves of a tree or a bear among the stars), there was the Mystery Itself, whose gown was the incense and the candles a dusting of gold at the hem. There were winged creatures shouting back and forth the way excited children shout to each other when dusk calls them home, and the whole vast, reeking place started to shake beneath his feet like a wagon going over cobbles, and he cried out, “O God, I am done for! I am foul of mouth and the member of a foul-mouthed race. With my own two eyes I have seen him. I’m a goner and sunk.” Then one of the winged things touched his mouth with fire and said, “There, it will be all right now,” and the Mystery Itself said, “Who will it be?” and with charred lips he said, “Me,” and Mystery said “Go.”
Mystery said, “Go give the deaf hell till you’re blue in the face and go show the blind heaven till you drop in your tracks, because they’d sooner eat ground glass than swallow the bitter pill that puts roses in the cheeks and a gleam in the eye. Go do it.”
Isaiah said, “Do it till when?”
Mystery said, “Till hell freezes over.”
Mystery said, “Do it till the cows come home.”
And that is what a prophet does for a living and, starting from the year that King Uzziah died, when he saw and heard all these things, Isaiah went and did it.
🔥
~ Frederick Buechner originally published in Peculiar Treasures and later in Beyond Words
What is your unrelenting passion?
My Beloved said, “My name is not complete without yours.”
And I thought, How could a human’s worth ever be such?
And God knowing all of our thoughts, and all our thoughts are just innocent steps on the path, then addressed my heart.
God revealed a sublime truth to the world when He sang
“I am made whole by your life. Each soul, each soul completes Me.”
– Hafiz
Empty-handed, no explanation.
After three nights of not sleeping,
Three nights of listening for
His footsteps, His mules sliding
Deftly under my bed, I stand
At the stove, giving him my back,
Wearing the same tight, tacky dress, same slip,
Same seamed stockings I’d put on before He left.
He leans on the kitchen table, waiting
For me to make him His coffee.
I watch the water boil,
Refuse to turn around,
Wonder how to leave Him.
Woman, He slurs, when have I ever done
What you wanted me to do?
❓❓❓❓
Reason by Robin Coste Lewis
Get off my back, God.
Take your claws out of my shoulder.
I’d like to throw you off
like I would brush off some particularly repellent insect!
Sometimes I get the feeling that if I could turn round
quick enough
I would see you
grinning at me,
full of glee, plotting, scheming, devious, challenging
The hell with all this stuff about fire and storm
and still, quiet waters.
I’ve got your number.
I’ve unmasked you.
I’d like to throw you off
like I would brush off some
particularly repellent insect.
You’re a daemon!
Unfortunately, you seem to have this great attachment
to me.
Actually, being honest, I know in my heart
I’d miss you if you weren’t there,
leering at me, reminding me of death and dread and destiny,
winding me up and puncturing
my pretensions.
I know, with a sinking feeling in my gut
that all the best of me
– the fire and storm,
and even, now and then, still waters,
are born out of the death-defying struggle
that we wage,
my dearest daemon.
💪🏻
Wresting With God by Kathy Galloway
I didn’t ask for this,
did I?
in fact, I believe I tried to block it,
avoid it at all costs.
But here I am feeling
outta sorts,
facing my bittersweet days.
Wondering where the hell
this is gonna take me?
What is my purpose here?
here,
where I lived my experiment for 5 years?
here,
what was taken
now returns,
and I am not sure what to do with it…
light it up
or
burn it down?
all I know is this is the place
I have been called to
at this moment
for only God knows what,
and He’s not talking,
hasn’t shown his face in weeks.
I must rely on this silly sliver of a promise,
that it is meant for my good
– somehow,
someway.
Any-hoo,
Trust is a ruthless business,
an extreme proposition to live.
I am not leaning to my own understanding,
or natural desires,
even a bitty-bit,
or I definitely wouldn’t be right here
– right now
or anytime in the future.
Yet here I am,
standing on this holiest of my profane grounds,
way out in the back forty
of thecomfort zone,
knowing beyond knowing,
I’m in the only place
I’m supposed to be
right now.
This is where the magic happens.
🌎
Amy Lloyd (AL)
God wants to encounter you with His love, so you can become a light everywhere you go, your life will shout to the world, ‘I’ve seen Him, I’ve felt Him. I’ve heard His voice. He is alive. He is here with us. In us. For us.’
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.
🔁
– 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
💞
~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
💞
AL
Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity, and responsibility to give something back by becoming more.
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
💞
AL
The worst isn’t the last thing about the world. It’s the next to the last thing. The last thing is the best. It’s 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.
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
we’ve 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.
🍴
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.
☺️
– 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
😍
AL
I think your whole life shows in your face and we should be proud of that.
Music has been used for a variety of purposes, but many uses have been forgotten and lost. Work chants were used with sailors, field workers, slaves and soldiers to increase their productivity. Musical rhythms created patterns of organization and control movement – for an activity such as rowing a boat. It created unity and cooperation among workers. The musical rhythm set a work pace. It also helped people focus on the music and not the hard, and arduous work.
Some songs give people identity, like “our” song, and songs for a sports team or a group or nation. Jingles can persuade people to accept a certain point of view. Jingles are used extensively in China to promote political points of view and in advertising to encourage people to buy a product.
When ancient conquerors came into a new land, they quickly outlawed local music – as their music strengthened identity in a culture and its old ways. The Russians did this in Finland during World War II, outlawing the music, Finlandia, as it gave the local people courage and strength. Music has more power than we give it credit for.
Special uplifting music can change a person’s outlook, creating a window to heaven – a new way of feeling and thinking. Ancient people referred to music that altered and uplifted a person’s conscious as the “music of the spheres.”
Author Viola Pettit Neal, wrote about a novel use of music, “The conquest of evil will ultimately be accomplished by use of rituals of sound and form. For evil is that which is disharmonious and cannot exist in harmonious pattern of sound and form. The word ‘ritual’ in its true definition is an orderly movement of sound and geometrical form in sequential patterns.”[1] Neal suggests that harmonious music can overcome disharmony (evil). Many African tribes surround someone who has behaved badly, singing their name and song to them – reestablishing harmony. It makes sense that Osama bin Laden outlawed music for his followers. Guess it would be hard to prepare for a suicide bombing mission, when you were humming a breezy Beach Boys tune. Such harmony would make it near impossible to get people do heinous deeds.
Could we use music to change people that have done unscrupulous things? Why not use harmonic and healing music: In prisons, with children in trouble or business with poor reputations? Where negotiations are taking place? What about on a war front? How serious could people be about fighting, when everyone was singing Silent Night?
Research has shown that people easily believe others in a distant country are enemies – if they don’t know them. In contrast, if they know the people, they don’t want them to be hurt. What about sharing songs from countries to lesson international tension? If people like a country’s music, it will be harder to demonize their people – as the enemy. For example, racism against black people declined in the end of the last century, when young people loved black rap music.
The people of Estonia, a small Romanian country, had been slaves for thousands of years. As slaves, they were demoralized. When the abusive Czars were shot, the Estonians saw their chance for freedom, but had no courage to seize the opportunity. In a country of only a million people, half of them sang nonstop for a week. The energy created from singing – realigned their “will,” determination and spirit. They rose up and boldly gained their freedom.
Shortly after Hitler took control of Poland, Russia overpowered the Romanian countries. Under Stalin’s rule about a third of Estonians were randomly forced to work in Siberia. Most died. This practice terrorized the people. Later, Hitler as well as the Russians, enslaved Estonian men and forced them to fight against each other, with brothers killing brothers. Pain colored the Estonians with fear, shame, and horror; once again, breaking the spirit of the people.
After World War II, the Russian occupation created harsh conditions, little food, no jobs, no places to live, but plenty of fear. When the communist regime fell, the Estonian people found themselves again beaten down with no strength to gain their freedom.
Once again, the Estonian people came together with a song-festival for five days, with a half of million people attending. Afterwards, the Estonia people gained their freedom, crediting their courage to the energy created by singing. To this day the Estonian people hold a song-festival every five years.
Sound and music is chock full of hidden energy. Music is invisible, but its powers are greater than we ever dreamed of.
[1] Viola Pettit Neal, Through the Curtain, 1962.
life: acoustic & amplified 