Life is a dress rehearsal. Every day reminds me of yesterday’s failures, today’s possibilities, and tomorrow’s reminders. Today, my biggest question to myself centers around my faith that someone greater (for me God) exists beyond my imagination.
What exists in my view is awfully short of some angelic heaven.
Are we creating a heaven on earth? Who is out of bounds with creating such a horrific world? Why do we go from bad to worse with every new year? Who is winning this never-ending battle of wits?
Politics is no answer. The spirit of love must overcome the drought of not seeking others or understanding them. Forgiveness is more necessary than ever. Anger and bitterness, when allowed to take root, pave the way to destruction. Hate drains the blood and leaves us tired of life. The consequence of despair is a hopeless dance.
Are you doing your part to create a beautiful world? Are you spreading cheer? Loving your neighbor or finding fault? Blaming race or religion, using both as an excuse to further harm life on earth? Hiding your love under a bushel?
There can be peace and goodwill. And we do not have to cancel God to achieve those ends. We must cancel our fleshly desires and embrace our neighbors as ourselves.
I love snow. The beauty mesmerizing. The dancing flakes lightens the air.
The child in me awakens every time the colder breeze sends rain twirling into laughing drops. I leap into my coat and boots to head outdoors to form another soul from the white stuff.
Unfortunately, the wet, packing snow is destructively beautiful. Snug in the house, roasting by a crackling fire, I kept hearing branches creaking and breaking. So I jolted outside to find my beloved birch looking like a willow. And on the opposite side of the tree, three hefty limbs broke in half. Not to mention a stately, 50-foot tall white pine in the way back, leaning heavily towards the earth. I will need a potent night cap if Im to make it through the dark tonight. And lots of prayer.
Earlier today I was thinking of intellectual honesty. A concept that keeps tugging at me. We can either labor a short time and build a sand castle or we can drink our time slowly, and build a shelter of many rooms to harbor lost souls.
The book I intend, to finally set sail, shall be such a vessel. A book that wanders through corridors and opens windows. As well as shut doors that once secretly invited in desperation, futility, and deceit. I realize I fight not against a fleshly foe but a spirit of confusion. The deadliest condition of man.
Note: I noticed I was missing this space. Yet find a greater need to go away. A push and pull. A tug and tightening encapsulates my heart. If anyone is feeling the same Id be grateful to connect and explore this dynamic.
Thank you for the earlier well wishes. I hope you all are doing well. Shalom. Jeanne
Solitude, isolation, are painful things and beyond human endurance. Jules Verne
It’s an interesting combination: Having a great fear of being alone, and having a desperate need for solitude and the solitary experience. That’s always been a tug of war for me. Jodie Foster
Good morning. Yes, it is morning where I am. Most likely afternoon and heading towards evening near you. May the days and nights for you be blessed and encouraging going forward this new week. And evermore.
At the moment, my creative life is a bit dulled. Im listening to books on tape to fill my mind with imaginative feasting. I chanced upon Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956 while reading a June 2018article written in First Things.
Two hours into the book and several poems popped out at me. I love to listen 🎧 and take notes 📝. It helps greatly with my concentration and my comprehension. The takeaway from the first two chapters? Nefarious ideas in the wrong hands are dangerous. Every heart bleeds dark.
How to tell the truth.
the pottery, thrown from the cupboard lay in pieces, a heap to bury laughter of the past
they hurry you to frighten you
their names slip into insanity forever vanished from blue sky broken branches of a dying tree
shaking dumping the crunch of littered leaves under foot
notice the still orange flower silent repression without the freedom to rise caught in light rays turning future seeds into prisons
the passing of past into future without a map now becomes silent paths in the gardener’s hands
“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
the stillness of earth a song well versed and rehearsed watch my shadow crawl
What is going on with you creatively?
The haiku is taken from an expressive arts class 4/3/2020. The photo is from 10/6/2020. Life has been a bit hectic lately. Changes in my life never cease. I put a halt to my REACE training midsummer due to conflicts. My training will resume in February 2021, with a new venue out of San Diego CA.
I look forward to continuing the expressive arts as they bring me much calmness and energy. A centering of my heart is needed in the tumultuous times we find ourselves. And I am rather certain for time to come. Although others I know are feeling a respite coming. My thoughts are knowing whether it is a false peace trembling to capture imagination and souls. Or something so luminous we will barely be able to stand.
My plans going forward, once I am able to mentally give energy to all my dreams, is a new blog, Shed 33.3, to replace Soul Signs, which will incorporate all my life loves. 🥰🥳🎈🎈🎈 Although this blog will remain indefinitely as it captures the impermanence of my being. And of nature’s caress. The rawness, the muddy waters, and the hidden aspects of growth, unequivocally shared.
So stay tuned! And please consider contributing to the adventure with your soulful poems, The Poet’s Wonderment, Gift Crow, Vol 1. Read about this endeavor here. I can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.