life: acoustic & amplified

poetry, quotes & thoughts about life

Archive for the category “Writing”

find your place

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In the Breach

Wander wonder restless
Amidst the novels
Autobiographies
Travel and Mystery

Search seek anxious
Through aisles of Philosophy
Religion, Science Fiction

Table nooks filled with laptop fingertips typing
Comfy chairs hold readers’ captivated eyes

Where do I belong?
(Do I belong?)

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A solitary empty table, alone, waiting
Waiting for my laptop fingertips and captivated eyes,
Waiting for my restless anxiety
Waiting for dress-up dreams
And therapy themes

The only open space here-
-here with Maya, Rumi, Berry and Bertoldt Brecht, Love Poems.
Poetry, of course,
For (I’ve been told) I am a poet.

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I settle scatter my stuff
(Stuff stuff, soul stuff)
Upon this table
Organically absorb the whimsy, truth, courage
Filling all these crisp closed silent
pages, pages, pages….
in book after book after book….
shelf, shelf, shelf… self

Shhh…they whisper nudge, silent
while, in the breach,
Jackson Browne sings.

~ro, 11/18/14

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on writing a poem

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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.

ACL 4/11/13

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Mockingbirds don’t do one thing but make music for us to enjoy . . . but sing their hearts out for us. That’s why it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird. – Harper Lee

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It’s all connected –
All the love,
All the loss,
All the joy,
All the pain.

The world is made of God.
We live in the ocean of God’s breath,
His very words.

We are all artists.
We all speak creation.
Our words are our greatest art form,
make sure they are painting a masterpiece.

God is love is life is truth is word is love is…
every little thing is connected to each other.

Everything I really needed to know
I learned from the ocean
and the trees.
The mountains
introduced me to the angels.
Acorns were my very first teachers
the finest flock of seagulls
were my most recent.

We are the temple.
We includes the universe
we find ourselves in.
We are brothers and sisters
to stars and starships

ACL 3/31/13

It is a sad truth, but we have lost the faculty of giving lovely names to things. Names are everything. I never quarrel with actions, my one quarrel is with words. That is the reason I hate vulgar realism in literature. The man who could call a spade a spade should be compelled to use one. It is the only thing he is fit for.
– Oscar Wilde

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It is strange to be here. The mystery never leaves you alone. Behind your image, below your words, above your thoughts, the silence of another world waits. A world lives within you. No one else can bring you news of this inner world. Through the opening of the mouth, we bring out sounds from the mountain beneath the soul. These sounds are words. The world is full of words. There are so many talking all the time, loudly, quietly, in rooms, on streets, on television, on radio, in the paper, in books. The noise of words keeps what we call the world there for us. We take each other’s sounds and make patterns, predictions, benedictions, and blasphemies. Each day, our tribe of language holds what we call the world together. Yet the uttering of the word reveals how each of us relentlessly creates. Everyone is an artist. Each person brings sound out of silence and coaxes the invisible to become visible.
– John O’Donohue

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We seldom hear the voice of the Holy One
who is, after all, fearsomely immense,

who sits, enthralled, perfectly still as a bird
watcher, saying nothing, offering only

the merest whispers, hidden in this world
so cleverly as to seem natural,

so as not to frighten us
away.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
http://www.unfoldinglight.net

on poems

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All poems are not equal.
Just like grades of meat
and paper towels,
there are poems that are tough to read
and poems that melt into your mouth and soul.
There are poems that are flavored to perfection
and poems which have no salt.
There are poems that mop up the spills
and poems that are flimsy and fall apart when you try to use them.
There are poems that move and feel good in your hands,
and poems that make your skin crawl when you read them.
No, all poems are not created equal.
At times I wonder,
why I love this tricky word game,
called poetry, at all.
Other times,
like this fair morning,
I know,
exactly why, I have fallen
so passionately
in love.

AL 8/24/13

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INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM RECOLLECTIONS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD
By William Wordsworth
I

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparelled in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore;–
Turn wheresoe’er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

II

The Rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the Rose,
The Moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare,
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where’er I go,
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.

III

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng,
The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every Beast keep holiday;–
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy!

IV

Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
The fulness of your bliss, I feel–I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning,
This sweet May-morning,
And the Children are culling
On every side,
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm,
And the Babe leaps up on his Mother’s arm:–
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
–But there’s a Tree, of many, one,
A single Field which I have looked upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The Pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

V

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar:
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy,
But He beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must travel, still is Nature’s Priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
And fade into the light of common day.

VI

Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with something of a Mother’s mind,
And no unworthy aim,
The homely Nurse doth all she can
To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man,
Forget the glories he hath known,
And that imperial palace whence he came.

VII

Behold the Child among his new-born blisses,
A six years’ Darling of a pigmy size!
See, where ‘mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses,
With light upon him from his father’s eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself with newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral;
And this hath now his heart,
And unto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside,
And with new joy and pride
The little Actor cons another part;
Filling from time to time his “humorous stage”
With all the Persons, down to palsied Age,
That Life brings with her in her equipage;
As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.

VIII

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy Soul’s immensity;
Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,–
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the Day, a Master o’er a Slave,
A Presence which is not to be put by;
Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!

IX

O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
That nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest–
Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:–
Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate questionings
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from us, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a Creature
Moving about in worlds not realised,
High instincts before which our mortal Nature
Did tremble like a guilty Thing surprised:
But for those first affections,
Those shadowy recollections,
Which, be they what they may,
Are yet the fountain light of all our day,
Are yet a master light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor Man nor Boy,
Nor all that is at enmity with joy,
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
Hence in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither,
Can in a moment travel thither,
And see the Children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.

X

Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the young Lambs bound
As to the tabor’s sound!
We in thought will join your throng,
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.

XI

And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forebode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquished one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway.
I love the Brooks which down their channels fret,
Even more than when I tripped lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born Day
Is lovely yet;
The Clouds that gather round the setting sun
Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

choices

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I look around for a poem today.
I search for words
to flow in a pattern.
Hoping they will fall out –
knowing it’s not that kinda day.
I feel off,
disjointed.
I will have to dig for words today.
Will what I uncover be pretty or painful?
Raw or honeyed?
I’m just not sure.
There is both bitter and sweet
right below my surface,
floating inside my mind,
waiting to be wrangled,
to be captured by my waiting pen.
My hand will clench it,
in customary fashion,
to mark them into being.
Pure white paper
will be scarred to receive them.
What will I choose to leave behind me today
for others to find?
Like the trails of the fallen,
the broken,
the explorers,
the saints.
Will I choose words of wisdom
simple sweet,
or words of sharpened justice
like the stinging of the bee?

AL 8/13/13

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I am loved by God as I am, not as I should be. – Brennan Manning

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A good humored Christian who accepts others as they are, not as they should be, is an evangelist.
– Brennan Manning

Lord, help me in what You have called me to do…

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thank you, Paulo Coelho, for your words

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the closest thing I’ll ever write to a manifesto…

1

What is truth? It is a very slippery slope to begin to define and stand by something as truth. Dogma. Absolutes. Black and white answers which sound rather good, but have big holes in them. I have long avoided that thing many people have called ‘truth’ . I have said for years, “the only thing I am dogmatic about, is not being dogmatic”. This has given me much freedom and the ability to never quite stand for anything…to stay hidden. I have lived my beliefs rather than share them verbally. I believe in that and am glad I have lived it, rather than spout something which I have not lived. Yet, this has gotten me into some trouble over the years as well, and into more than one or two unequal relationships, which have caused me, and the other person, much pain. Yes, I have experienced a lot of pain in my lifetime. A lot of loss, poverty and lot of grief, and much of that has centered around the truth growing within me, which I chose not to share, as I was not certain of it at that point. Yet, it could not be completely hidden and was growing and changing me in every way. It kept coming to be in ways which made me respond to the other in a way which was opposite of them. I want to say here, I am not saying their life is right or wrong, just saying what has taken place internally in me, has been different than what has happened within them and has lead me here, to this place of my truth which can no longer be denied or left unspoken.

One reason for this was rather a good one, I thought: I grew up in Christian fundamentalism (if you ever saw the move Footloose, I am not just six degrees from Kevin Bacon, I AM Kevin Bacon). I was taught that there was one way, one church and our family had it. We were the only ones. Everyone else in the world was wrong. It was very black and white, yet it was also very full of judgment, subjective and a moving target of truth. It seemed that whatever one wanted to do was ok, the truth and ‘convictions’ were about things the person may or may not like in the first place. I grew up with people who were great at arguing, and I noticed, on more than one occasion, that the people really liked to argue more than they liked the ‘truth’. In fact – many of them could argue very convincingly for both sides of an argument and win the argument on either side. That always troubled me. So what then is truth? and what is good and what is evil? Is good just something that I, personally, like and want? Is evil anything that I choose to not want. I do not want to bash my parents. They were, and are, very good parents doing what they believe is right and I respect and love them very much. I am so glad that I had a safe and protected childhood. I have come to some different philosophical conclusions than them in my life and faith, not to belittle theirs, but I must speak from what I have experienced, and my own personal experience has been all about the way of Christ and the examinations of our motives, how our heart is revealed by our tongues, and what really matters as we seek for truth – to be right, or to be open to a God who is un-understandable and I cannot possibly understand or dictate to?  I choose the later.

The seeds of this thinking were born early, and yet, I had no one to talk to about these things and was really more interested in being beautiful, fashionable, popular and famous than in anything else. I can describe my teen years in just a few words…I wanted…

Yes, I wanted everything the world had to offer and I was convinced I could have it. I remember praying, Lord, “I don’t want to marry a preacher, because I don’t want to be poor” – yup. I want… I remember sitting in a sermon hearing about the ‘mark of the Beast’. A story about living in a period of time when, if you didn’t accept this mark, you would be killed and could not buy or sell goods in the world. Now I see that passage is really about standing up for your beliefs, or remaining hidden. I remember thinking, “well I would still be a believer, but I would take that mark, God would know my heart, but why would I suffer or be killed? How would that help the world?” Yup, I had no intention of suffering or being poor. I wanted the right shoes for every occasion and I was bound and determined to have them – no matter what. My spiritual life was there, I accepted Jesus as my savior when I was around 7, I was one of just a few kids in my small Christian High School who didn’t try marijuana when it was offered. I am very grateful I have never been tempted by drugs. I have never wanted to feel ‘high’. I was more interested in fashion and beauty. I took the verse, “I determine not to know anything among you save Christ and Him crucified” I Cor. 2:2. It was a good verse, and it helped me, but on the other side of that was my insecurity (I never received one compliment growing up – ever) and my desire for someone to find me beautiful. I want…has been the recurring theme in my brokenness and in my healing.

And so I married, I say fortunately NOW…but I married someone abusive. Verbally, mentally and sexually. For the first five years I was in a vortex of pain and overwhelm. I tried to ‘figure it out’. I tried…I lied…I cheated with the mall…I got through by spending money. When the pain got bad I went shopping. In 1990, through a series of events I left and returned to my parent’s house for 3 months. During that time I really reached the bottom of despair and at that place of complete raw disillusionment, I lay in a bed and I cried out to God in a real smack down. I didn’t need God, I need to be happy and if He was not real then I was ok with letting go of that fairy tale. I gave God the first shot and opened my Bible and it feel open to the words of Jesus in red, Matthew chapters 5-7, commonly referred to as the Sermon on the Mount. As I read, a giant click happened in my soul and I determined I would live these words as an experiment and see what happened. I would walk away from them any time I felt they weren’t working for me. (Haha)

I am here and whole, because, in 1997, in the middle of the worst thing that could ever happen to me – losing custody of my children (Ages 10, 9 and 5), losing my family and every person I ever loved, losing my beautiful home and the luxury I was surrounded with at that time, losing my reputation and even the very fundamentals of what I thought I knew about myself, yes, losing who I thought I was. At the bottom of that big overwhelming ocean of loss I clung to the only thing that could allow me to keep going. I believed that God had a purpose in it all. I believed, if anything God said was true, then I had to believe it all was true. Everything I was went into the basket.  And so, in the middle of devastation, loss, poverty, pain, grief so big I could not touch it, but locked it away under guard for 9 years (still in the process of healing), I began to look for the signs that God was good. I began to seek goodness as Joseph Campbell says, ‘a man with his hair on fire’. I needed something good to get me through the day, and I always found it! Usually I found more than one thing! There was goodness every were and, so as I began to say thank you each day for those gifts of goodness, I began to get to know God in new ways. I began to see life and loss from a new perspective. I began to see the motivations behind people’s words and actions. I began to see my own actions in the light of this amazing love of God, so different than I had been lead to believe.

In 2007, at a very critical time in my life, when I was not sure I would make it out of an abusive and obsessive relationship alive, I wrote my life story (up to then) and I have to say it was like writing a cancer out of myself. It was not pretty. It still isn’t pretty. As I write this, I have finally made it to a place I can call ‘home’ – it’s not glamorous. It’s a speck of a place, but 350 square feet of pure joy for me. It is a huge moment in my life journey, yet I have nothing to brag about. I recently lost my job because I stood up to a boss who was a bully and a Pharisee of a man who owned the business, and so I have no clue if I will be able to continue in this wonderful spot I can finally call ‘home’. My faith is strong and I feel that God has lead me here and will make the way, but I also know God’s ‘way’ is rarely what I would personally choose to do if I was walking my own way, and so I pray and seek for trust without borders. Ruthless Trust, as my fellow ragamuffin, Brennan Manning called it.

Over the years I have shared my written story with several people. One man, who is a successful writer, told me that he really enjoyed (questionable word for so much written pain) my story, he gave me the name of his editor and encouraged me to bring it up to date and share it. Then he said, “I wish it didn’t have so much God in it, but if that is your truth, then you must keep it in.” I laughed, because, YES, my story and my truth is ALL about God. Every moment is about reconciliation, a path of grace, a pilgrimage of redemption. I have nothing else, I am nothing else. The changes and the transformation inside of me, which have remained somewhat hidden until now, are nothing short of miraculous and have nothing to do with me as some sort of personal over comer of life’s unfairness, and all about the love and goodness of a God who loves me just as I am and is ready to give me as much of the mystery as I am able to open my life and heart too – not because I’m great or special, just because I am willing and have come to understand, just a tiny bit, of how loved I am. There is no other reason for me to be here. There is no other reason I am alive at this time and place. Nothing else matters and I have found this love alone is worth the fight. Love alone is what changes me in every way: from what I want in my life, to who I am in relationship with, to what I watch and laugh at, to what lifestyle I live.

And so I reached this place called home the first of February 2014. I lost my job on February 13. I have sat and prayed for the past 2 weeks concerning the way forward, about this place of rooting, about what I am to do now. I have praised God for all the goodness I have experienced. I have prayed for my souls ‘true other’ and I have prayed about ministry. I have prayed about provision. I have given thanks and raised my stone of Ebenezer to God for bringing me safely thus far. I have sat in silence and rested. I have spent days praying for my friends and loved ones who have not understood my walk, and many whom I have had to leave regardless of how much I loved them. I have prayed and sought understanding on how to make the changes which I need to make, in order to build a long and lasting life here with roots and flowering.

Today, I have come to realize it is time to speak truth, to be revealed. To speak, write, sing and in every way in my life, actions, words and relationships I must reveal my truth and no longer walk the way of hidden faith. These things I have experienced are real to me, I reveal them, not to challenge someone else, but to release me into the glorious freedom I have come to on the inside, which I want to allow to manifest and be known on the outside. Christ is my all in all, my husband, my lover, my best friend. I have found love, beauty, joy and intimacy in this walk of suffering with Christ. I die daily and pray to be less so that God can be more. I have found the truth which has transformed my very being, my desires, my insecurity, my voice. I am no longer the same, in any way, as the girl who decided to try to walk the words of Jesus in Matthew 5-7, as an experiment, in 1990. In October 2011 that experiment came to an end and I realized that the miracles I have seen, the great God I have experienced cannot be denied. I was all in. On January 10, 2012, I married Christ in a very special experience and was renamed Beloved Song of Christ. My nickname from Jesus is Beppe – which means Favorite. Yes, I know I am beloved. I know I am beautiful in Christ’s eyes. I know what love is and how love acts. I have experienced it in every way. I became aware of the true meaning and obligation of the word ‘commitment’. I realized that 99.9999999% commitment is no commitment at all. Only 100% commitment is a true commitment. WOW! That realization changed everything for me. I want people who understand this truth in my life.

In July 2012, I stepped out of an unequal relationship into the holy wild of the unknowing. Nothing was certain, except that God had a plan. I did not know anything. I no longer had any plans. My goal was simple, to make it home to a place I could belong, where I could put down roots and build a good life, and to come into my own place of service and to find the place where God would have me to begin whatever I am supposed to do with this one very wild and precious life I have been given as gift to pour out as a gift of love in return.

I’m still not sure of what that is or what that looks like. The glimpses I get are of music and working in relationship with my ‘souls true other’ (no I haven’t met him yet) who understands this in the same way I do. A life of joy and sharing a life of love and speaking into the world on relationships and the importance of speaking truth in them. A relearning of why we build them on truth and the principles of God. What that looks like in this world today. How do we build relationships on truth when the world is selling us the opposite?  Why that is so relevant in our current place in time? Why are our thoughts so important? Why is it important not to flirt? Why do we suffer? Why do we choose to be less when we are so loved?

Yes, that is what my heart desires more than anything. My true other, who has this same desire and thinks about these important things and wants to explore them and speak them into the world as I do. Who wants to share and make room in life for each other’s gifts, ideas and desires. One who wants to grow and share and become more of what God wants for each of us to be. Who wants to commit, all in, to Christ first, and to me as to Christ. My true other who understands that true beauty is on the inside and we only become beautiful as we live in obedience. As we begin to understand the truth of being loved in this way and allowing our human selves to be moved out of the way, so true beauty, love, glory, holiness can flow through us. This is my truth, this is why I have been born, this is why I have learned what I have learned and why I have suffered as I have suffered. Not so I can brag about what I’ve done, I would not have made it one day in poverty without Jesus showing me that true riches come from integrity and giving me the strength to hold on and see life from a different perspective. True beauty comes from loving our enemies and it is only when we do something different than them, do we get a different result than them. If we refuse to hit someone back, but offer them the other cheek this does not show weakness, this shows we are not them, we are stronger than them. This narrow gate leads to life. True and glorious life full of the bountiful fruits of the spirit, love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, gratitude, faith.

What we seek, we find. When we ask, we are given, when we knock, the door of life opens and we receive so much more than we ever expected. These paths lead us (at least they have me) into very unexpected areas. In time we find ourselves coming to a place where all the hidden things we have experienced become us and we find we must stand up and surrender to the glorious consumption of of love and share this light. We must speak and live and do what we have become. It is all we can do.

This, then, is my truth, The way, life, words, death, burial, resurrection and continued interceding of Christ Jesus, my savior, has changed everything about me. He has given me life. He has redeemed my life from sure destruction. He has given me riches such as cannot be overshadowed, even by the Queen’s jewels. He has given me strength, courage, truth, hope, healing, love, security, esteem, peace, joy, stamina, words, a voice…the list goes on and on and ends with, all good things.

I no longer keep that just within me, I no longer keep it hidden in my heart. I gladly and bravely share that with everyone who will listen – this truth is the only thing that matters.  At least for me, this way of Christ is the way to be truly happy, whole and live a good life. It is my truth. I do not have to be anything, I do not have to do anything. I am loved because I am loved. It is enough for me to be me. It is enough for me to just sit back and recognize my place in this very moment in time. This freedom doesn’t make me want to be less than – no, this freedom calls me to my highest and best potential. This is not an excuse for me to embrace my darkness, no, the love of God is the freedom to overcome my destructive nature, to move into pure joy and light. It is not about petty things that I do, or do not do. It is for freedom that Christ has made us free, and that is a bright and shining city on a hill full of gold and silver.

This is my truth. It cannot be shaken from me. It cannot be denied. It cannot be manipulated. It cannot be hidden. It is my truth. I have experienced it. I am so grateful and I am so in love that I want to share it any way I am called to share it. Let this mind be in you, which was also in Christ Jesus:  who, being in the form of God, thought it not robbery to be equal with God: but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also hath highly exalted him. And given him a name which is above every name: that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth; and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.  Philippians 2:5-11

Oh, how He loves me.

It’s all I have. It’s all I want. It’s more than I could ever have imagined.

I am Yours and You are mine.

To Him be glory forever and ever.

Yes,

and

Amen

2

writing a poem

I fit words together,
hoping they mean something.
Wanting them to make sense.
Allowing them emotion.
Willing to give them freely.
Creating a monument,
for a moment in time,
to share with the world. photo
These words become something tangible.
A thing,
a gift,
a piece of art.
A part of me,
stays with them.
Little pieces of me,
like shapes in a puzzle,
becoming
a picture,
a flower,
a song.
Small particles of my soul,
like a rose bud,
opening in my hand,
mesmerizes with it’s
beauty,
touch,
fragrance.
I write words on a page,
and feel love
spreading outward,
as the flowering happens,
as this thought blooms.
As words become thoughts about…
As the pieces become beautiful…
As the poem is born, 5
of water,
blood,
star dust
and becomes…
a small piece of me,
left behind on pages,
for others to find,
sharing a small moment,
never to be lost,
because it has been
recorded,
acknowledged,
emptied.
Gratitude makes room for new
miracles,
learning,
beauty,
as they find their new home
ready,
emptied,
expectant.
Waiting for more
truth,
goodness,
love,
to flow and enter in. 6
There is always more,
and more than enough.
The heart that gives gathers,
but never tries to hold anything hostage.
Love,
giving,
pretty much everything,
about life,
only works when we allow it,
all of it,
every sacred cow,
every spec of mud,
to be free.

AL 9/10/13

the catch varies :)

5

Catch of the Day
by Lucy Shaw

It leaps, breaking the skin of the lake
of possibility, this thing that flashes steel –
this trout of a poem, wild with life, rainbow scales
and spiny fins. Now, for patience, the pull of the catch:

I cast, wait for the jerk – the tug of the hook in bony jaw –
feel the line go taut. The ballet begins, a wrestle
to land this flailing, feral thing – all thrash and edge –
and tame it into telling its own muscular story.

I heave it over the edge of its arrival, glorious,
fighting the whole way, slippery as language.
Its beauty twitches on the floor boards, its glisten
spilling over the bottom on my notebook page.
http://www.lucishaw.com/
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