Tuesday, March 30, 2010


Sunset down by the Saint John River

If I close my eyes, I can see you walking in prayer.
Your cultivated silence lightens your movement
and radiates soft echos outward to touch others all around you.  
How do you do that?  

If I close my eyes, I can see you sitting in hushed harmony
cross legged in casual relaxation. 
Your concentration is inwardly complete.
You breathe effortlessly 
inhaling spirit, 
exhaling gratitude and contentment.
Can you show me how to do that? 

If I close my eyes, I can hear you speaking to me.
Your voice, with its inviting timbre reaches my frightened soul 
like a cold compress on a hot fever. 
It's alright, you say...........
I am the light, you say.
I love the sound of your voice.
I want to believe you.

When I open my eyes, and take the first steps across a bridge that reaches over a gaping transition, 
I see you beside me from the corner of my eye.  
I can feel you mostly......... that cultivated silence breathes energy towards me.
I feel it.
I hear your reassurance.......... 

I wonder...........if I was to widen my eyes enough to be able to look sideways, would I see you how I expected to, or would I see you as someone completely different?

Sunday, March 28, 2010


This week, I learned.............

That I'm 5 feet + tall, standing in 4 feet of water and not the other way around....

That resentment presses on the heart and turns it to stone, but that if you recognize just how much you've allowed to form, it begins to soften.

That a softening heart is very vulnerable, but much much healthier than one which remains encased in stone. 

That when you pour fuel on your perception of unfairness or injustice, it flames out in righteous indignation.  

That righteous indignation blinds you from all other interpretations of what is fair and what is justice which then floods you with uncontrolled feelings and a very little brain.

That you can't control how you are perceived, but you CAN control what you put out there of yourself if you reflect, rewind, remind, rework....and relax.

That I havent been very good at setting boundaries or looking after myself physically or emotionally because I was stuck in resentment and righteous indignation for a very long time.

That I have friends and family whose hearts are hurting too because one marital breakdown ripples outward to impact many many people who care, and who are connected to us in so many ways. 

That I have much to learn.

That I continue to feel violated, and it is time to create a sacred space in my home where I can feel safe..... which I can call my own. 

That when the unrelenting feelings come and I want to run away and hide, the very best thing I can do is sit quietly, focus on my breathing, listen to the sounds all around me, and pray.  

That I know how to pray when I want to run away and that when I do, I learn something new and feel so much stronger.

That God provides minimal protection, but maximum support.  He also provides many many people in our lives who can provide that hands on, emotional and spiritual support on His behalf. 

That somehow my faith feels stronger than it ever has been.  

That I should ALWAYS challenge my own thinking and ask myself.......... "is what I am thinking true, or am I stuck on the same note over and over again?"

I'm still scared and mixed up at times.  Other times, I have a heightened clarity and focused energy.  Its a very strange place to be.  My righteous indignation will continue to bite me in the arse, but I will now catch myself and be more aware of this.  I see for the first time how this has played a role throughout my adult life, and that realization feels shameful.  Questions and the need for answers will continue to haunt me.  I will work on learning to have fewer expectations, and to think that I have the capability of fixing things for people.  I can't.  I can't.  No one can.  Why do I think I have this magical power?? 

It will be a long time before I don't wake up with the shock that comes with the reality, but like the resentment which both of us cowardly allowed to choke our hearts and seriously alter our perceptions of the truth....(i'm sure the truth lies somewhere in between my view and his), the shock will soften eventually.  

I've been doing more thinking and feeling than I can handle on most days.  Though its only been 3 weeks, it feels like 5 years.  I try my best to move slowly because that's the only way to really and truly heal  while learning.  However,  my learning is happening at a clipping pace.  I don't know why......... perhaps I have honestly opened my eyes and heart for the first time in a very long time. 
Raw and vulnerable............in a frightening place of discomfort.  Change has been foisted upon me whether I want it or not.  I cannot be "protected" from this.  But, I have "maximum support."  For that, I say thank you.  For that I can honestly say that I feel blessed. 

What a whomping mind blower.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

hidden worlds.

"There will be hidden worlds that shine...."
Bruce Springsteen

I walk in solitude, hemmed in by the tempo of synchroncity, a blur of jazz flirting like fingertips on a rosary. I hear the lifting of a veil and a quiet ping of spirits. They settle within the entwined echos of my footsteps lost on an empty street wet with rain. They haunt my drifting reveries with blessed caresses lightly dancing in the air all around this dark night.... spirits sacred in the boughs of sweet pine. They stay close to me on this lonely night of ten Hail Mary's until my own spirit rises up to join in the dance. And when the trumpet hits a single high note, our spirits slip effortlessly into the timbre of a holy space where mystery dwells in the ancient grace of mercy. 

In a world without end, we moved like spirits in the night....together. It made all the difference. 

We're never alone inside the hidden worlds that shine.

ps. this is a piece i wrote last year.  it was inspired by Springsteen's magical lyrics.  I tried to capture the same feeling he so masterfully captures.  I read it now, and it fits me differently.  In a good way. In a good way.....

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

blessed spaces

"There are places I remember all my life,
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some have gone and some remain.
All these places have their moments
Of lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life I loved them all."
The Beatles 

Our capacity to conjure up a full colour multi sensory picture of a place so vivid that it almost feels like you've magically transported yourself in one blink, is gift we all share.  Sometimes it leaves us with the melancholic scent of nostalgia, and sometimes it can lift you right up out of the harmonic blues.  Sometimes, it can be the balm one needs in times of strife.   It's almost as good as being there for real. 

Since last week, I've been thinking a lot about the various locales which have left me with an almost indescribable feeling of connection as soon as I arrived there for the first time. What generated this thought was an evening spent with a friend who lives "up river" in a place called Keswick Ridge enjoying the transition from twilight to starry night outside in front of a bonfire.  We have been blessed with the best weather I can ever remember for the month of March.  Well, today doesn't count.  It's miserable out there.  But usually we have a month of todays.  To have had the chance to feed the fire to boil maple sap under a sky of standing room only stars while sharing deep heart stories came as close to inner peace as I have felt in a long time.  

I have always felt that way about Keswick Ridge, no matter what the season.  Its like a little piece of heaven to me.  It has all of the ingredients that other places in my life have to make me feel like I am connected to something sacred.   It allows me to inhale a wholeness of spirit as I stand firmly balanced on the clay under my feet.  There is an uncanny sense of belonging as well as an association to a much broader timeline than my own.   

Since that evening, enjoying simple pleasures while soothing new wounds, I have reminded myself of the other locations that grab me the same way.  I recognize them as holy and thank God for the opportunity to have felt it deeply.  

New Brunswick has a multitude of places like that for many of us.  Aside from the spots I can get to that are close by....... down the hill  by the river shoreline, up the hill along Springhill road, I'm struck by places like driving along the Kingston Penninsula, the Gagetown area, the road that winds along Grand Lake.  These are a few that come to my mind quickly.  Then there are those blessed places I have spent good feeling time in that aren't within within physical reach right now, but I intend to visit them as soon as I can finangle it.  Prince Edward Island, along the shores of a village called Maximeville......  Spencer's Island, Nova Scotia (where the accompanying photo was taken), and my old camp Kawabi.  It makes me smile just thinking about them as I write.

When I sit still and contemplate any of them more deeply, there are specific parts of those larger places that I can easily visualize. From that vantage point, its like honing into that home place of love and belonging.   Quickly, the intensity of how precious they are increases and showers me with a sense of place and space that offers life abundance.  

Perhaps it is a touch of grace?  A wonderful a sense of feeling alive?  It always leaves me with a glimpse of eternity.

Not a day goes by when I don't recognize the importance of sacred places.  I gather energy and a sense of attachment to the clay under my feet when I visualize these sacred places in my own life.  What pulls me to mine may be very different than what captures you.  I think part of individual attraction to place comes down to a sensory aesthetic that is comparable to our unique fingerprints.    

This is the gift we all share; the ability to pull good light and good feelings into our world whenever we choose to.  And if we are very lucky, we can get ours physical selves there to inhale all of its healing salve. 

My thoughts leave me wondering..... Where do you go in your visioning, (or if you're lucky and can visit in person) when you want to remind yourself of feeling that sense of holiness?  

And how amazing is it when you stumble across another one of these spots on the planet that simply feels like you have been a part of the scene all along?  What is that all about??  I think it has something to do with receiving a wink from the Cosmos.

ps.  We sung a traditional hymn at church this week.  This first verse has remained with me since then and carried me through the writing of this piece.  

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God Almighty!
Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee.
Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty,
God in three Persons, blessèd Trinity.

Monday, March 22, 2010

the power of a blessing....

I am sitting in the reliable stillness of my living room sipping on the first cup of reliable hot tea as I read this blessing in quiet whisper to myself this morning before daylight comes .... before my children wake up to start a new week  ....  before my feet really hit the ground running to help orchestrate a new week of work/school/life routine.   It may become a new part of my routine because by the time I reached the end of Father O'Donohue's blessing, I could literally feel a lift in my spirit.  I could hear his beautiful Irish poetic voice too. 

Many friends have warned me............ expect the "dips....."  It will be difficult for a long time.  So far they are right on.  As much as I expect the reality "dips," there is no way of predicting them, nor knowing presently just how deep the plunge can feel.  I expect the dips and when they come, I let go.  However, I also expect moments of release too.  And when they arrive, I embrace them with a full heart.  I give thanks to the support I have all around me, including friends who are far away, linked to me heart to hear through this blog. 

Sundays will the be most difficult day for me.  When it comes to Sundays, dinner and all the makings are a traditional grounding for me and my family.  There is nothing that I love more than Sunday afternoons spent at home cooking, planning, listening to music and interviews on the radio knowing my family is somewhere in the house doing their own thing.  It prepares me for the upcoming busy week, while it helps me clear my head. Yesterday, as I was told very clearly that there was no hope for reconciliation, no desire to work on the vows we took over 22 years ago.  In the middle of a Sunday afternoon. The dips arrived....... BIG TIME.  

Then they left me in peace.  It took a while, and it took reaching out and asking for friend and family fuel. But, I found peace.  By the end of the evening........ after I had made dinner and fed my family under a different scenario, I found myself sharing stories with  my daughter who cuddled up onto the couch to introduce to me a new song........ one it turns out she listens to every night as part of her routine to find sleep.  We laughed and shared, and she helped me find peace. 

This morning, it is my turn...... to lead them into a new week, a different kind of week and routine. Similar but different.  Because now?  Now, I have these beautiful words by Father John O'Donohue to lift me up out of resentment for a while to see hope to give thanks.   Let daylight begin....


Somewhere, out at the edges, the night
is turning and the waves of darkness
Begin to brighten the shore of dawn.

The heavy dusk falls back on earth
And the freed air goes wild with light.
The heart fills with fresh, bright breath
And thoughts stir to give birth to colour.

I arise today

In the Silence 
Womb of the Word
In the name of Stillness
Home and Belonging,
In the name of the Solitude
Of the Soul and the Earth,

I arise today.

Blessed by all things,
Wings of breath
Delight of eyes,
Wonder of whisper,
Intimacy of touch,
Eternity of the soul, 
Urgency of thought
Miracle of health, 
Embrace of God.

May I live this day.

Compassionate of heart,
Clear in word, 
Gracious in awareness, 
Courageous in thought, 
Generous in love.

John O'Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us.

Expect the dips.........embrace the moments when a blessing can carry you back to hope.  I think it will be a new mantra to help lead us into the unknown.  One day at a time, right?  One day at a time.  A new one is dawning...........  I arise today.

Friday, March 19, 2010

miles to go..........

I've been silent here longer than ever.  There is much to say, yet i hold back the temptation to write it down.  For now, I speak them. In volumes.  With volume.   I speak them as they come to me. All jumbly and random, they spill out in stories and emotions so ripe, so starkly real, so in need to be released out into the vast sky where they can perhaps fuel the stars with energy.  If I write the finger pointing feelings along with the others that breathe passion, if I write it down, it somehow becomes eternally entombed.  I want them to soar out of me, and leave me empty.  

Empty for renewal.
Empty for renewal.

My life is in turmoil, and yet clarity will find me.  As I immerse myself in the love of family, and friends who have offered their energy to me in order to give it to my children, I will find calm and clarity.  Not overnight.  Not with the snap of my fingers.  I have hope. 

As i seek out guidance from the ones in my community who can provide it to me, I am finding new truths. As I learn the gift of what surrendering really means, I am recognizing the trap of resentment I allowed to encase my heart and turn it angry cold.  I see it in others too. Surrendering, expressing, resting, hanging on as best I can, ....... riding the waves of painful turmoil and change, I am feeling the softening caress of God.  It amazes me.   Here I am in the first shocking stages of marriage separation, and my faith is all around me sending little cosmic messages.  I'm not even looking for it!  It gives me strength and hope.  It cradles me when the waves get too big.

There are many topics I want to write about.  There are many stories I'd like to share.  Some I will....like the one where I meet the Prodigal Son.... or at least one of them.  He arrived in my office this week.  they will unfold as grace unfolds.......  I'm in no hurry.

Today, I was told........

Faith is a verb.

It made me smile.  I get that.  It makes sense.  And I believe it.  An action word.  From there, my first reflections brought this thought which I want to share with you......
Faith is a verb.
Love is a verb.
Life is a verb
Breath is a verb
Surrendering is a verb
Discomfort is a verb.
Beautiful is a verb.
Prayer is a living, loving, breathing, surrendering inner and outer faith  beauty of a verb, located in the village of discomfort.

I am a wandering little pilgrim right now, full of raw conflicting voices.  I shout them out into the darkening sky to give the stars energy.  I share them with my family and friends.  I'm also the minstrel entering the woods alone, a soulspace where faith just may reside in the silence of a prayer.  Empty for renewal.  Grieving loss. Living faith.  Unprotected but firmly supported by many.  I am blessed, tired, sad, confused, hurt but I'm going to be alright.  Yes I am.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep."


Wednesday, March 10, 2010

a discard

red.  life.
i wonder how many storms this little umbrella weathered?
i wonder how many people it protected for so long?
now it lies on the side of the walk
bent and broken
but you know?
it may look that way...
its function has been altered by wind,
by nature's elements
it still radiates red beauty.
there's more life even if there is brokenness.
maybe even more than you know.
more than you know.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

the hole in the fence......

There is a story about a sheep who lived within a flock.  All day long, all he could hear was bleat, bleat, bleat as they all went about doing the same things over and over again.  Restless to break out of this fenced in existence of predictability, one that was strife with rules and known expectations, he longed to runaway.  No longer did he see the other sheep as individuals with unique personalities.  They all blended in together, faceless and wholly.  It was like he became blind to their gifts.  

He was also numb to their desire to connect with him through love.  Their bleats began to mean nothing.  Bit by bit, the lens he was looking through painted a distant picture of all of them grazing together on the other side of the field.  In his tiny brain, he interpreted this view as rejection.  They had rejected him, rather than the reality of the situation.  He had rejected them. But, it was too late.  He began to believe that he was a misfit.  He didn't fit within the flock.  His fenced in area did not feel like Home.  In turn, as a way to protect himself, he started to question everything he had been taught, and dismissed it all as mere fluff. 

One day, as he wandered around the perimeter feeling sorry for himself, he found a hole in the fence.  He climbed through it and found himself surrounded by new fields to explore.  For the first time in his life, he was able to experience open spaces independent of the flock and he made the best of his newly found freedom.  For a while the sheep felt such exhilaration while he took advantage of living outside of the fence.  He romped when he wanted to, slept when he wanted to, ate when he wanted to.  Never again, he thought, will I have to justify my actions, nor my thoughts.  I can believe what I want to, live how I want to and not be questioned by a bunch of bleating idiots.

Day turned into night...... night turned into day........ time passed, and he continued to enjoy himself.   However, he realized that he had no one to share it with.  He had no one to talk to about it.  This began to weigh heavily on him.  For as much as he loved his independence, he also felt the unease of not being connected to his flock.  His sense of belonging dried up along with the sense of being loved.  Loneliness crept in especially at night, when he realized that his total freedom did not include any sense of home.  Home, where he was loved and cared for.  Home, where he was a member. 

Though he felt like he needed all of those things.......... freedom, love, belonging, fun his new life was not conducive to this.  It made him cry.... big sheepy tears.  

It also took his appetite away.  He didn't have the energy to eat or to take care of himself.  Lethargy coursed through his body and soon he felt too weak to enjoy his freedom.  Given this was all that he had been focused on for so long....... given that this was his dream, the reality of his situation and of his unrelenting need to share his new experiences with others made him feel like such a failure.  He turned his back on his flock, dismissed them as useless bleaters and now he was alone and slowly dying. What he wanted for himself for so long dried up in a mushroom cloud full of doubt and despair.  With shame from failure in his heart, he lay down under a large maple tree and gave up.

Little did the sheep know, but his flock had not stopped caring.  Even though he made it perfectly clear how he felt, they worried about him, and prayed for his return.  The Shepherd too hadn't forgotten about him either and whenever he could, he went searching for his lost little one.  On the day the sheep lay down in surrender, the Shepherd caught sight of him just in time.  

Shocked by how thin and scruffy his little one looked, the Shephard's heart felt such pain and relief at the same time.  Quietly, he approached the sleeping sheep and slipped his strong arms under his shaggy coat.  He lifted the sheep up into his arms, all the while whispering to him how much he had been missed and how much he was loved.  From the distance of deep slumber, the little sheep opened his eyes and looked into the eyes of the man who had for so long looked after him.  A full smile melted the sheep's worn out body as he slipped into the most relaxing sleep he had ever known.

When they returned to the fenced in area, the flock rushed over with relief to tend to their lost one.  For days, they looked after him....... made sure he had food and water, but more importantly made sure to let him know how much he was missed.... how much he was loved.  In no time the adventurous sheep gained his strength back.  He was able to reflect on his travels and on what he had learned.  His appreciation for his fellow sheep grew and grew as he realized how deeply he had missed them......  how he had missed being a member of a flock.  

What amazed the once restless Sheep was the fact that they had always accepted him for who he was, even when he had dismissed them as unknowing and stupid.   They knew he needed to travel beyond the fence to learn for himself some of life's biggest lessons.  So did the Shepherd.  For he was the one who cut the hole in the fence in the first place.  And he is the one who ensures the hole remains to this day. 


There is a stubbornness inherent in our desire for independence.  It provides nourishment to push through the burdensome trappings of all those rules which we are taught to obey..... to abide by.  It blinds us too and gives us false approval and security to negate what is proper behaviour.  Our determination to step outside of the lessons we are taught, the values and beliefs we are fed, the "life" we are supposed to lead, moves us to a place where we become irresponsible in the eyes of the ones who love us unconditionally.  Do we all experience this in our life journey?  Can it be any other way?  

Its not that we want to hurt others.  Its just that we need to figure it out for ourselves.  So, we drift. We wander both internally and externally.  We question everything.  We attempt to fulfill our fantasies.  We take risks while trying not to see the consequences.  We act like children........ emotionally heightened by our stubborn desire to learn about life and faith and right and wrong in our own way.  We become selfishly distant, obsessed by our own ego driven needs as we taste as much elixir as we can consume.  

It can last a long, long time.  Running away can even last a lifetime if we continue to avoid rest, and reflection.  If we become addicted to the dark side of freedom, we never lift our heads up to open our eyes to see the destruction, or to recognize the lessons we had originally forged out to learn.  On our own.  In a blaze of stubborn determination.  Lost and never found. Illusions are enticing bedfellows.

And when life doesn't go as we had expected it to, or we bang up against nasty stormfronts and personal failure what do we do?  We feel pain.  Automatically we blame God.  We act out in anger and turn our energy outward with fists in the air.  We stomp our feet and shout out loud..... Unfair!  How can I believe in You who would let me down, make me suffer, let me runaway?  

Amazing how quickly we forget the greatest gift God gave us..... free will.... the autonomy to choose how we live within freedom.   God cut the hole in the fence to begin with, and it remains to this day. 

So, what does all this mean?  I'm still chewing on the Parable of the Prodigal Son.  And I may continue until all the sheep come home.  :)

Friday, March 05, 2010

summoning up an honest reflection.

Whatever happens to me in life, I try to hold onto the belief that despite the messy complications and uncomfortable madness littering the way, there is potential for sacred lessons to settle my soul.  All it takes is summoning up  the courage to take that first step, right?  

Sometimes I think I miss the lessons because I'm looking the other way, or I've detached from all that is happening around me.  It's not that I don't care.  It's more because I'm not ready, or I don't feel like I can handle coming face to face with the lessons.  Like every single human being, it comes down to protecting myself from harsh realities, exacerbated by a stubborn refusal to take any responsibility for the messes.

It's not my fault.  I didn't do anything wrong......... Don't blame me. Wow, we're quick to pass the buck aren't we??

New learning means change.  Sometimes change is not a welcome visitor because it has the capacity to hurt deeply.  Sometimes change is downright frightening.  It can foist me into unknown territory without the armour used to protect myself from owning up to what I have added to the messy complications. What cements my feet in hazy hesitation is the fear that I won't be accepted after I have apologized. I mean, what happens when I ask for forgiveness, but it isn't received?  What then?  Just the thought of it makes me feel bare.

I've been revisiting the Parable of the Prodigal Son.  The part in the story when the youngest son has hit rock bottom after losing all of his inheritance and belongings through selfish acts is where I'm stumbling. It irritates me.  I don't quite believe how smoothly it is all resolved.  The story is so short that it just doesn't feel like he's suffered enough.  Or maybe I'm just a masochist at heart.  

It seems like all of a sudden, after wallowing in his mistakes for a wee bit of time he thinks........... "ah, if I just go home and apologize..... own up to my fuck ups and all will be forgiven...."  It just seems too swift, too easy and kind of manipulative.  I mean, did he REALLY feel responsible thereby guilty enough for how much he had messed up??  He had hurt others so deeply by mistreating their generosity. He abandoned them and went off to live detached from the ones who matter, from the ones who love him the most.  Yet, in one swooping embrace with his father, who is grateful to have his son home alive and well, the Prodigal Son admits that he has sinned and states that he is not good enough to be his father's son.  Poof!  He is forgiven and life goes on. 

It seems to me that true forgiveness isn't that easy.  Giving it or receiving it.  However there is no way to weigh it or measure it to ensure its the right amount.  Mercy is a feeling, not a substance.  Or maybe it is.  Maybe it is a substance that has to fully fill one's heart before it feels legitimate.  A half-hearted apology spoken in harsh bursts sits like a lump in the pit of the stomach.  The kind of apology that is thrown out in words so light they float away in a soap bubble is so fleeting that it gets lost in the continuous messy complications and leaves a residue of questions. But when one asks for forgiveness in a timbre of honest vulnerability and is received by the same kind of openness, something melts.  Something transforms.  Maybe I just missed that layer of vulnerability woven into the story of the Prodigal Son.

The thing about parables is that they are springboard stories written in broad strokes, which leave room for discussion and ongoing contemplation. Their meaning as well as their impact alter in the mind of the reader because every time we revisit them, we are in a different place in our lives.  What jumps out at me today is different than what jumped out at me the last time I read it.  I have a new lens....... the angle is different.

Today, as I stand upon a crossroad littered with messy complications and uncomfortable madness, I realize that the part of the story I have the most difficulty with is also based on the character I can relate to the most.  And if I don't believe the Prodigal Son.... then perhaps I need to revisit my own believability.  It's a strange paradoxical feeling because right down to my toes, I believe I would absolutely forgive the people in my life whom I love unconditionally.  It feels like such a no brainer.  Of course I would forgive them! Wouldn't I? 

Then again, maybe they wouldn't believe me..... maybe I'm not as authentically believable as I think I am.  Maybe my actions don't appear to be redemptive to them.  Maybe my acceptance words don't hold the same substance as my non verbal actions..... my messages are mixed.  I need to look at whether or not I do have a full heart of forgiveness to offer. And maybe, just maybe I need to forgive myself first........ to empty my own heart by asking God to love me, the screw up that I am.    Can you forgive others if you don't know how to forgive yourself?

It should be so simple.  It never is.  We constantly run away from resolution, from owning up to our role in creating the messes.  Why?  Could it be that if we do, change will inevitably occur.  And it may just rock our worlds in ways we may not be prepared for.  Then again, doesn't transformative change hold the potential for sacred lessons to settle one's soul?  And isn't that we are constantly striving for..... to feel that sense of HOME?   

When forgiveness matters the most, when you are stripped down to your sparse broken self and the only thing you desire is to be loved, asking for it becomes as real as it ever can be.  Whether it fills the heart of another and takes them to a place of pure acceptance is beyond your control.  This is what is so damn frightening.  However, you'll never know unless you take the risk. Perhaps its best to start by slipping out of that Self encasement and having a real honest naked chat with God. 

I wonder if the Prodigal Son felt his strongly stirred desire for home settle in his soul when he fell into the warm embrace of his Father?  The parable doesn't tell us that.......... we have to look beyond the story and hope that he did....that THEY both did.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

furious angels

On those days when darkness covers the world around you, then somehow slips under your skin when you're not paying attention, you find yourself counting shadows instead of sheep.  Contented dreams remain out of reach. Calm is peppered by a hideous invasion of internal noises.  Shadows can be loud visitors.  They don't lovingly bleat like sheep and happily hop back over the fence. Instead, they stick around hovering under your breath until you begin to fall into night's bottomless cavern.


Shadows resemble a chorus of fear, accompanied by the looming rhythm of your own heartbeat. Regular pathumps intensify to a loud drumming of dread.  These pulsing disturbances push you past any realm of comfort to a suffering soul place. You're struck hard by the acute realization that you come from dust, and that no matter how hard you try... no matter how long you seek out relief through a solution, the fact is what it is. All suffering is simply a version of coming face to face with mortality. 

five ......................................................... six

The din continues, ...... a nagging rapture of furious angels leap out from the shadows to summon your drumming heart. A blurring flurry of fussy wings thresh, summoning awareness that all you've ever known is not enough....that what you're struggling with cannot be fixed by your combative ego .... that the reins you've held onto so tightly for control have to be released.  When it feels as though the air can't be any darker, when the hum of angels hit a crescendo making the shadows dance like they have won, surrendering is the only option.  

Just when you're about to let go of any form of faith you have, your hands automatically turn upward with plea in your heart.  To stop the flight of furious angels.  You've heard their message.  It is then and only then that you have opened up wide enough to let in the light of God. .... to ask for His guidance.  

May you stay right there amongst the dancing shadows, the frenzied angels, and the pain of suffering until you can hear an answer to your prayer.  Don't let your ego get in the way.