I taste garden green-ness
I sip summer showers
Breezes kiss my skin
Soil comforts me
Rocks challenge me
Sunlight blesses me
With the true presence
But also
Reverence finds me
As I hang out laundry
Fix dinner
Wash dishes
Watch TV
Work on a puzzle
Return a shopping cart
Make our bed
Answer an email
Quell my impatience
Sometimes
the mundane is extraordinary
Mostly
it is just mundane
Always it is
! God’s body !
! God’s blood !
! God’s love !
What – who – is it that invests now with eternity?
Alan Watts spoke of reincarnation as the return of particular consciousness from cosmic consciousness.
That doesn’t have much meaning to me, although it sounds grand.
In much the same way the Second Coming sounds grand without much specific content.
What is eternal life to me if I will not be the me I know – whether it be Watts’ version or Paul’s version. If we shall all be changed, whether or not death is real, then the particular I that loves this particular You shall no longer exist. And that is an eternity that is oh so very uninteresting to me.
But this now. This early morning eternal now with you still sleeping and me loving you still sleeping. This is perhaps all the eternity I need. And for that I thank whatever, whoever created nowness for me.
“the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Romans 8:26
Can you hear the Spirit groan
Through my inadequate too empty words
What shall I write
For what shall I pray
For the families of dead children
For the grandmother of their killer
For our nation
For our souls
“We shall not all die
But we shall all be changed”
Once I read those words
As describing mystery
Life after death
A new creation
Now I read them as a prayer
For this life here
For the no longer United
States of America
Now I read those words
And pray
God of compassion
God of mercy and grace
God of love and grief
God of power and might
Please, God, I groan
Change us
Before we kill
again
Tough young guy In a big shiny SUV Demonstrates his fearlessness His masculinity His God-given superiority Accelerating Engine roaring Wheels screeching Peeling out From A suburban grocery store parking lot Fall down and worship, ye mere mortals (I bet his mama sent him to get bread)
A Facebook friend posted: “…last night we were challenged ‘How can we share our gifts? What gifts can I bring to our church in our passionate desire for change?’ I’d love to read your responses.”
I responded:
How can I share my gifts?
How can I bring my gifts?
to a Church that does not
want my gifts
at least not when those gifts
are wrapped by God
in a woman’s body
Nevertheless I shall persist
and bring my gifts
to my sisters
and even my brothers
who are willing
to be gifted
to be blessed
by a woman.
When all other faith fails
My faith in the God of chance
Persists
It’s hard to pay attention
Driving the familiar route
But the unexpected sign
Brings me fully alert
“Emergency scene ahead”
Warns the red diamond sign
On the median
I’ve never seen such a sign before
In half a century of driving
In five countries
The traffic slows
Crawls
Stops
As we approach the flashing lights
The seemingly random
Scattering of police cars
And two utility vehicles
Many yellow vested uniforms
The sirened ambulance
Speeding past in the opposite lane
And the metal
Twisted tortured metal
Strewn across the road
Two wheels
Separate and lonely
Disconnected forever
From their only reality
The only reason
For their existence
No recognizable vehicle
So a motorcycle
Was slaughtered here
Most likely
By a speeding car or truck
My stomach clenches
My forehead tightens
With the start of a headache
My breath comes fast and shallow
Just yesterday
A cousin posted an old picture on Facebook
Two of her brothers
Mike, bearded, handsome, 20-something
And his little brother Chris
Probably about 6 years old
Towheaded confidence
Sitting in his big brother’s lap
Mike the oldest of nine
Chris the youngest
Mike
Dead in a motorcycle accident
These 50 years
Chris
Killed in a motorcycle accident
20 years later
I follow the policeman’s gesture
And turn into a subdivision of townhouses
Thirty years living in this city
And I have never turned here
I follow the car in front of me
Following the car ahead of it
Following the car ahead of it
Following the car ahead of it…
The long line
Stretching ahead in this
Blind man’s bluff game
Of follow the leader
Our dance macabre
With death so very near
Through the twisting tarmac turns
Past towering townhouses
Until I know where I am
A familiar road
A red light
A panhandler
Who wears a bandana mask
And a baseball cap pulled low
No threat intended
Just COVID and sun wise
On this sweet spring morning
I don’t even read his handwritten
Cardboard sign
I just roll down my window
Ask his name
(Scooby)
Tell him mine
Hand him a 20
And chat with him until
God turns the light green
And encourages me to move on
I am no Pharaoh
But the God of chance
Led me here
And softened my heart
Does anyone else get tired Of those who tell you How sensitive they are Those who tell you How intuitive they are Those who tell you How hard it is to live life As an empath Those whose eyes fill with tears As they explain their painful sensibilities Their acute awareness of the feelings Of others Even ants Does anyone also ever feel like screaming “So why the fuck are you so unaware Of my feelings?” Or is it just me?
Sometimes I just want to be Linus Dragging my blanket of faith everywhere Thumb in my mouth Sucking contentedly on the familiar While walking through the unknown But my faith too often disintegrates Into a cloud of dirt And I become Pigpen
With bows to Emily Dickinson and Gerard Manley Hopkins
If hope is the thing with feathers
– And, ah, bright wings –
Then faith is the greening leaves
And nest-making twigs
High in the branches of love
Rooting down deep
Into my soul’s soil
Hope nests like the robin
Waiting patiently
Wisely
Knowing beyond knowing
Sitting in her nest of faith
That eggs will hatch
Fledglings will fly
Finding other trees
Soul-rooted
That need hope
For awhile
Before autumn’s onslaught
Fells the leafs of faith
Then yields to winter’s freeze
That ices over even love
As my soul struggles
Yet always
Sometimes sooner
Oft times later
Spring’s resurrection
Alleluia arises
Freeze yields
Bare branches bud
And hope wings back
To build a nest of faith
In a tree of growing
Living love
The maze is beautiful
Lush deep shrubs
Seven, maybe eight
Feet tall
The path is smooth
No sign of rocks
To stumble me
Or crevasses
To sink me
The sun is warm
Not hot
Warm and bright
Not too bright
Right bright
Why can’t I move
What are these cords
These invisible tender tight
Cords
That hold me in place
What was the name of that child’s game
Indian something, I think
That strange small
Accordion tube
Soft and colorful
You put a finger in each end
When you pulled
To free your fingers
You were stuck
The harder you pulled
The harder the tube resisted
Fingers stuck
That sweet panic started
Titillating almost scary
Almost arousing
To be stuck
By such a colorful playful
Bit of nothing
But to know
All you had to do was relax
Stop pulling your fingers apart
Pull one while the other pushed forward
And the stuckness vanished
A magician’s illusion
Your fingers were soon free
So you did it again
Relax
Relax again
And the binds will loosen
Relax and you will
Walk through the maze
Enjoying the challenge
Until the worry binds again
And you forget to relax
You forget
Again
To remember
The loving Family
Mother God
Father God
Brother God
Bound together
With Holy Loving Spirits
Waiting
Just outside the maze
Knowing
You will find your way
Sending
Confidence and love
On the warm sunshine
Laser cutting those invisible
Binding
Ropes
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