The Seeker
I went out searching for myself,
No map, no scope, no plan.
You'll know it when you see it,
So I heard
From learned women and men.
In the church and in my books,
In my pastimes gay fulfilling,
The search was fruitless and in vain.
Nowhere could I find
The thing called "me."
And then I came upon it
A clap of thunder in my brain.
I am nothing and I'm everything
Depending on the second ticking by.
For I am a channel of His Spirit
No life I have but His.
O, ye little children,
'Tis a mystery so profound
That this poor feeble mind
Can't tell it to ye sound.
The Sacred Holes
The mist closes in;
It is suffocating.
I can’t hear God –
Like static on a faltering radio,
His voice comes and goes.
I can’t make out the words.
Where did I go wrong?
Why is He distant?
My sin is ever before me.
Unforgiveness for myself clothes me.
Perhaps He suffocates, too,
In that atmosphere.
Yet, even in the darkness
I hear Him bid me walk with Him,
Promising to teach me many things.
I think—why?
I am not a wonderful person.
And I know instantly
That those words have no meaning to Him,
And should not for me.
So I take His hand, my Lover’s hand,
And walk through the darkness,
Through the darkening fog
That stifles.
Through the wreckage of my life
At my feet.
Over and over
I pick up those broken pieces,
Desperately trying to puzzle out
How they go together
Into the coherent whole
That has never been
Except in the mind of God.
The best I can do is a ragged fit.
Rarely do the jagged shards
Seamlessly join.
Yet, I continue, doggedly.
And I am tired, so tired,
And discouraged.
The thought breaks upon me
In the sadness of the wee hours:
What if I quit?
What if I just leave
The gaping, ugly holes
In me?
What if I just leave
The broken fragments of myself
On the ground?
The sight would be horrific,
Would it not?
Then He speaks.
“Leave the sacred holes—
The better for healing to flow from you
To others.
When time is full,
I will heal them.”
And I feel the gentle stirring
Of His power, of hope.
And the faintest ray of light
Breaks from within me,
Through the holes,
Slicing through the fog
To show me the Way.
The Golden Orb
I dreamed,
Dreamed I was
In a lush meadow
Almost buried
In tall wheat-like grass.
I could see majestic
Snow-capped mountains
In the distance
And a beautiful wood close by.
Butterflies, intricately dressed
In fantastic designs
Fluttered around me,
And small creatures,
Perhaps lady-bugs,
Walked over me,
Begging me to get up.
But I did not.
I did not care
About the loveliness around me
Or the hope of adventure
To the far mountains.
I was tired,
Tired and lonely.
Had been for a very long time,
My entire life.
Such a long trek to get here
And no one to share it
With me.
Beauty is not near as beauteous
Without another heart
With whom to share it.
Suddenly, in the mist
I spied a small, golden orb
Approaching in the sky above.
Amazed, I watched
As it drew near
Growing larger as it did so.
A soft, gentle light pulsated around it,
And I was comforted --
I don’t know why.
It remained suspended
Above me
For long moments,
And I sensed it said to me,
“I love you dearly.”
Yet, I knew such things
Do not speak.
This had to be a dream.
I was gaining strength
All the while
And knew
I would be able to get up soon
To move on
And again try to enjoy
The gorgeous world around me
Alone.
I still wished desperately
For another like me
To go with me.
But the landscape
Was bare of humans
And had been
For the many years of my travel.
Now I stood
And looked closer
Through the golden light
Into the orb.
Shocked I was
To see a man
Gazing at me
From within,
A man with the kindest eyes
I had ever known.
They seemed
To dance with mirth
While inviting me
To come close.
Much like a frightened animal,
I cautiously stepped forward,
On the mark to run
If danger rose.
He spoke,
And the soothing vibration
Melted my heart.
“You are my beloved.
Come with me,
And we will live in this bubble
Of love and grace
With the Father
And the Son
And the Holy Spirit
Forever.”
Eyes streaming,
Heart overflowing,
I responded with a wordless “yes,”
And dissolved into the orb,
Into him,
Forever blessed.
Suddenly, the meadow was empty,
All was drenched in that glistening,
Sparkling, golden hue.
And the lady-bugs,
Tinged with that lovely light,
Danced in delight with us.
The Embrace
God leaks out of everything, you know.
Sometimes it is from the small,
Almost mundane
Minutia of life.
The vibrant energy,
The vibrating joy
Is everywhere
If we pay attention.
Yet, sometimes that Presence
Does not leak.
It explodes, dazzles,
It knocks one down
With beauty
With fullness
With love.
It is a gripping embrace
From which one cannot escape.
Nor does one want to,
For it is gentle
And beautiful
And kind.
Tears flow,
Many tears
For it is here
One knows
That all life dwells
All love dwells.
The joyous fullness
Demands a response.
One cannot remain neutral
In this embrace.
Whatever it takes
That’s what one will give
To stay here.
For there is a price
A dear price.
One must come naked
Into this embrace
With the Light
The Holy One.
The baggage of a life
Must be left
On the roadside.
Only then can one remain
In the ecstasy of love
In the Light.
Silence Bonds Us All
Silence bonds us all here.
It is the great equalizer,
Bringing us to our knees
Before God.
Clink of silverware,
Scrape of knives,
Food masticated,
The sounds
Of the created
Being fed.
A humbling thing it is.
No zippy comments,
No quaint remarks,
No quick rejoinders
To keep the false fronts up.
Just they and I
In our nakedness.
Compassion flows in me
For myself
And my companions
In this place today.
We are beautiful
Stripped down,
Without the need
To impress or compete.
Clothed only in thankfulness
For gift of food and life
This day.
Protector of the Treasure
I cradle this gentle essence,
This innocence,
This beauteous creature of God
Who holds such limitless possibilities.
This fragile being carrying divinity within,
From which the fire of heaven glows.
This one so tender,
So open,
So willing to trust.
Yes, I cradle her with supreme love and delight.
Think you that I speak of a newborn babe,
Come fresh into this sphere?
Nay, I do not.
This old soul speaks of herself
Newly finding the treasure within
A frame over six decades on this sod.
Vast Love
The vast Love swells all around me
Washing in huge waves over the deck rails
Flooding the inner cabin of my soul
Threatening to overturn my fragile vessel
On the high seas of life.
How much more can I stand
Of this beautiful sweetness,
This connection with Source,
This unending longing for union
That makes me want to laugh and cry
At the same time?
This Love knows me
And loves knowing me
And makes me love
Everyone
Everything
And even myself.
Words are such traitors;
All of them pale beside
This force,
This palpable reality,
This Being.
I surrender to it
Trusting I will not die
In its aweful beauty.
The Wooing
I have been a fortress,
Strong and nearly impenetrable.
Very few interlopers
Have scaled my walls
To gain access to the courtyard.
Even then, the doors
To my inner sanctum
Have stayed securely fastened.
The lock is broken
By no one.
Even God.
I am safe within my walls,
That little one
Who was so wounded.
The little furry creatures
And my beautiful plants
Keep me company.
They cannot speak
And that is good.
Human words often
Frighten, anger me.
I don’t miss my kind.
Many projects
Keep my mind and hands
Busy in the silence.
They give me satisfaction
While humans only angst.
Yet, I must say lately
A puzzling presence
With no body
Seems to have invaded
My inner sanctum.
I did not lift the latch,
And I cannot keep it out.
Nor would I want to.
It comes and goes as it wants,
And, against my will, I am
Drawn into its comforting,
Kind and peaceful folds.
It assures me that
All will be well
All will be well
Without uttering a sound.
And, lo, I believe it.
I catch myself
Waiting, waiting
For its return
And ruing its departure.
I first was sure
Some angelic being
Had lost its way
Traversing the skies
Back to heaven.
Now I think, against all reason,
My Creator has come to call,
Beckoning me sweetly
To set aside
My lonely projects
My fearful hermitry
My refusal to connect, to feel
And work with Him
On my soul.
Not a pleasant thought,
For I fear there is much pain to face.
But I cannot refuse
This gentle, kind Spirit.
He woos me
And I say yes.
The Healing
Shattered shards of beauty
Weep silently at the rending
Then gush great fountains of tears
For the wounds made by
Hammers of youth, of family, of circumstance
Which broke the luminous mold.
But, lo, He is bringing the jagged pieces,
Still pulsing with divine light,
Together.
They tremble, first touching,
Then pull away in fear.
What will it be like to be whole?
To show forth the Light
As was meant from ages long past?
Perhaps the energy will be too great--
Perhaps, coalescing, it will explode.
The thing of beauty is too wonderful to behold.
How much easier to gaze upon
The broken remnants!
But slowly, irresistibly, they come together
In Him.
I am finally who I was meant to be — the created.
And I am not afraid to look.
The Prophet
I am His prophet
Truth-teller
Never forgetting
Whose I am,
Eschewing all
That keeps me from
The joy
Of that knowing.
For all my days
I never knew
Such cauldrons burned below
In me.
Or that I had a mind so sharp
That I could make
Truth known.
I lived in fear
Peering out
From my self-made prison.
Doubting any talent
Any ken
And waiting to be damned.
Now, I know
I am a channel sure
For others of His blessing,
Changing every second
With His mind and bidding.
Born upon the flowing,
Effortless, at ease.
No need to row against a current
Or even steer.
Peace
Sadness
Alarm
Guilt
The day's first rays peek over the horizon
Soon the trees won't be able to hide the orb's scorching missiles.
Autumn in Mississippi.
Yet, I can't enjoy the coolness, the stillness, the beauty, the waiting
For God to speak.
The other voices, the ones inside me, clamor too much for attention --
Reminding me of all I have not done and all I need to do, including write this poem.
For time, they tell me, is racing by at a shocking rate
And there is so much to accomplish.
Restless,
My heart beats faster, I am slightly panicked.
I have asked God in the past why He will not give me a steady supply of that peace that comes sometimes,
The peace that none of those voices can reach.
That renders them mute and helpless, that obliterates them.
All is lost except the KNOWING that all is well, all is well, and all manner of things are well.
No longer do I beg God. I know that the peace-- God-- resides right next to the voices-- within me.
It is always ready for access, if I choose.
But I must be quiet and enter His world.
It is a mystery.
I will feel better having written this, having DONE something.
But it would be better had I done nothing.....and found that elusive peace.
Found God, in me.
God’s Measure
How fragile
Really
This diamond
In the dust.
How easily broken
When tortured to fit
The tiny confines
Of expectations.
We struggle
Don’t we
Pitifully
To measure up
To succeed,
Using anyone’s
Measuring stick
Except God’s.
He has erased
All the numbers
On his.
Truly sad
To see
The shimmering
Bits of ourselves
In pieces
On the floor.
It need not be so.
Dawn
My favorite time of day
The first blushes of dawn
Peek over the horizon.
At times the fingers of
Yellow, azure, and rose
Intertwine so riotously
That the whole sky fairly shouts,
"God is great and greatly to be praised!"
Other times, like today,
Their voices blend quietly
Into one, whispering,
"Jesus loves you, you know."
In this quiet hour, just a space away
From my night of dreams,
Of escape
From the rigors of life,
My heart can breathe
Can still beat slowly.
The spectres of the day's demons
Have yet to materialize.
I can rest in the knowledge
That God has my back
That He delights in me
And I can even count some ways.
I wait and listen in the stillness
In the beauty
For His voice to come,
Ever painting lovely pictures
Of the endless opportunities
For life in Him
To unfold
Even in the often bleakness
Of this world.
And I pray yet again,
As the dawn's shy colors
Give way to the sun's
Bright march upward in the morning sky,
And the day's challenges approach,
"Lord, give me courage
For what comes today.
Help my heart not skitter
In fright at even simple things
That threaten to undo my peace of mind.
Cover me, protect me
From fearful perceptions
That cause me not to enjoy your
Creation and your people.
Cause me to see you in everything."
Now I go, centered
At least for now,
Watching, listening
In my heart
To see the lighted path
To hear the lighted path
Until I sit in this place tomorrow
Co-Creators
I co create with God in every second,
His power, His mind
Somehow meshing with my own.
I wait for the knowing
For the certainty that, yes, this is what we want.
Breaking Out
I’m breaking out --
Taking You at your word.
You asked,
“Why do you sit
In this prison cell,
When I’ve unlocked the door
And cut your bonds?
In an instant I awoke
Spied the bars
Felt the shackles chafe
Against my wrists
And knew for the first time
The lies that had kept me prisoner.
The Light proved all
To be illusions, imposters,
Cruelly promising a full heart
But bringing only joyless sorrow--
When I had felt hopeless
Because I could not have
What I wanted.
When I had felt useless
Because I could not accomplish
What I wanted.
When I had felt powerless
Because I could not control
What I wanted.
Now the door
Indeed stands ajar,
And the chains lay lifeless
On the floor, no longer attached
To me.
All I have to do
Is move.
But my feet are so heavy,
It is too hard!
Suddenly a hand
Appears before my face
And I grab hold.
Joyful energy courses
Through my veins
Giving my feet
Courage to move.
Here I come!
Into your Love, your Light!!!
An Other in Me
The stillness welcomes me.
In it reside
A world of ---
Invitations, for want of a
Better word.
No sounds, no thoughts, no ideas.
They are from
An Other
Not of this world.
They all beckon me
To rest
To listen
To BE.
Comforting,
Because they bid me
Cease
The frenetic racing
From project to project
Thought to thought
Deed to deed
Even done for good.
They make me know
It is ok
To live into
God’s love
His care
His preparation
For all there is
To be
Of my life.
Unbelievably,
I fight them…
The insanity
Of being human, I guess.
I fear if I listen
I will sink into sloth
A lazy glob of flesh
Incapable of achieving
Success.
Whatever that is.
The morning stillness
Is the best.
I feel
My Other
So much better.
Lord, help me
Take it through
The day.
Rootbound
I was planting some moss today and was reminded of a rather important spiritual lesson. Many plants I buy at the nursery are “root-bound,” meaning they have outgrown the pot they are in. If you zoom in on the pic on the left, you will see that the roots and dirt are exactly the same shape as the container. They are so tightly bound together that the dirt cannot even fall away from the roots. If you plant it that way, it will never get any bigger and more than likely become sickly and die. You see, the roots don’t know that you’ve removed their restriction; they will continue circling that dirt thinking they are still in the pot, when actually they have as much room as they need to roam around.
Experienced gardeners prepare the plant for another pot or the ground by distressing it, dragging their fingernails over all the roots and breaking them up, as the pic shows on the right. They hang out of the dirt heater-skelter, ready to move off in another direction. It looks a little bedraggled, but it is just right to go into the ground and thrive.
The next time you are faced with a challenging situation and feel that sharp fingernails are tearing your comfortable life to shreds, remember that, like that plant, we don’t grow spiritually in comfort and complacency. We need distressing. The hurt and the pain is where growth happens. God loves us too much to leave us root-bound. James, the brother of Jesus, tells us to count it all joy.
James 1:2-4
A Penlight in the Darkness
When I was very sick,
My mind had seized,
My heart was frozen,
My spirit had taken flight
Like a winged bird.
How would I survive?
How would I know the way?
I had dropped my penlight
In the deep, deep grass;
Or perhaps it had gone
Careening off the cliff
Just millimeters away.
In a fog I panicked
And just stopped.
Would I remain here forever?
Or misstep
And risk the abyss?
Gradually, I realized someone
Had picked up my penlight,
And its soft gleam
Still illuminated my feet
And the next step.
Emboldened, I stepped forward
And took courage to look ahead.
There a hazy form took shape
Who must hold the light.
We continued on,
And strength returned
With each step.
Gaining on the figure,
I hoped to say thanks
And retrieve my light.
Reaching out,
As I came abreast the humble form,
I made to grasp my light
And touched the outstretched hand
Handing the light off.
It was then
That the thanks died on my lips
When I saw
The ugly, ragged hole
In that hand,
And my penlight
Smeared with blood.
I expected the figure to leave
Now its job was done.
But on it strove,
Ever present,
Ever loving,
Ever vigilant
For trouble.
Somehow I knew
This Help had been there all along,
Watching, waiting
For me to acknowledge
I needed help.
By all that’s holy,
How had I never noticed
My Friend before?
She
Stacy Wills @stacywillsart
I immediately loved this when Stacy Wills painted it in 2012. It hangs on my healing room wall to remind me who I really am.
Late of heaven
Her being still glistens
With the pulsing golden dust
Of that holy place.
She skips up one side
Of rainbow’s arc
In cloudless sky,
And slides down
Its other side
Laughing in sheer delight
At its beauty and its grace.
She is a warrior, brave and noble
Her spear of truth
She heaves
To hit the mark
In both friend and foe.
Yet, it does not harm or kill—
Only melts in healing balm
Within those hearts
To cause growth.
Her soul reaches to her Maker,
Another brave and true.
Forms a channel for His goodness, love, and power
Grows daily ever larger
As He fills her.
She marvels at newfound power,
Aware that change has come
Is here
Has been here for a long age.
She welcomes the adventure.
Looking back, upon the dewy ground,
There lies a dried up shell,
A crumpled, molted sheath
That she recognizes as herself
Of old.
No longer needed and outgrown.
She gazes at it long and lovingly
With forgiveness and thanks
For its protection all those years.
Then, turning her beautiful face
To the glorious sunrise
She strides boldly off
To life.
Transformation
Once the path seemed so clear
Through all the brambles
And dense undergrowth.
But I noticed as I hacked
My way through it,
Making judgments,
Giving ultimatums
About the truth as I saw it,
I left angry welts on those
I encountered on the way—
Sometimes ugly gashes,
Watering the earth with crimson.
Even the vegetation seemed to cry out
At my harshness.
Mystery has now settled over the path;
Unknowing often reigns.
And I consider much
Before my machete
Comes down.
The briars now do indeed
Draw my own blood.
I cry countless tears.
But, oddly, joy
Even compassion
Wells up in me
For those I meet along the path.
I cut carefully, mindfully
Around them as I go.
No longer do I hurt them.
We move along together
Toward that Brightness
Only the soul can see.