Church is poetry. Poetry is life. A life well lived.
i only judge myself because i am the only person i truly know.
Institute of Art, Chicago, first floor Modern Wing
i witness you, accept what you deem worthy of me to embrace. all the while i remain absolutely blind to the intricacies of the painting you are.
you may lift the curtain a tad. invite me in and under the mask. allow me to get a little closer. do i know you? are you afraid of me or i of you? do we really even know the other? or bother to know? will i be willing to lift my mask too?
Crow on the Wire has a Sunday confession that sparked varied personal thoughts. i hear because i listen. not sure I understand why politics is as divisive as it is. perhaps it is being set in our ways and feeling comfortable with our habitual years? only changing, transforming, because we finally see the truth. or are we bending truth to match a defined enlightenment? Not sure.
The Chicago Temple, United Methodist Church
In the Choir
i may agree. i may disagree. i may not have an opinion at all about you. rather hide myself discreetly, knowing you won’t bother to understand how i feel. or why i do, as i do.
justice is most important, so, the final verdict given about me is my own to dwell upon. i hand you the privilege of judging yourself too. i decide what needs to change with me in order to be more loving towards you. and i pray your willing as well.
this process of transformation does not work when we judge each other. how i react if you decide not to accept me is my choice. my question then becomes “will i remain in my old ways? and why?” along with wondering why i should change at all.
1/26/2018. 7:23 am. The world is still dark. I am feeling the same. My inner world needs a spark. A match to strike this fear.
This, whatever this is, is my thinking out loud and inviting you in to my space, wherever that is…
Hurry! Look over here… Here! Right here and right now, movement is happening. I peer into the roaming molecules, all bumping in to each other. No “excuse me” or “beg your pardons” just blatant “get the xxxx out of my way or else!”.
Then continue “Heck, see how important i am. i am the queen of this world after all and you need to be ruled. Right?”
“Go ahead. Talk back. Be visible!” i tell myself.
Laying, lifeless, in the core of my soul, is an orange dot. An identified solar system rotates, bowing to this dot because it radiates warmth. But the surrounding air is so cold… this dot burns out.
This! Whatever this dot is, is attempting to pull me through a black hole. Deeper still, i stumble. I fall.
“Captain! all planets and stars identified!” A pause in time ensues. “How would you like to proceed?”
scars heal but peel…
your ripe and smell of orange.
“please, don’t hide”, she speaks to herself,
the corner of the room brightening
learns to dance in the dark.
If you have pitiful days, lying in the bottom of a bottle or wandering in briar forests. If you hold the knife, coincidentally imagining the scrapes on flesh, while watching the blood flow towards the desert. You have learned the answers to your questions. You eventually learn not to ask more questions when the answers never surprise.
If you breathe on every step. If you bump into all the rest. You will find the questions to ask. Just don’t seek the answers. Go hide.
There exists a primitive side to each of us. Desire begins at the sensation of water, breath and birth. The fortunate are welcomed by truth, exist in peaceful conscience, surrounded by encouraging arms.
What of those who enter a dark world? They lie gutted by negation, remain in vigilant torment, the spirit and heart fortified, enduring isolation. They encounter the blind.
Rivers run through broken lives. Blessed are those who dare dive into our eyes. Trust builds bridges and dams burst through, the discouraged left thirsty, chasing hope, towards endless tomorrows.
Somebody loves us, we must travel boundless paths to find them.
Those who have a ‘why’ to live, can bear with almost any ‘how’.
No man lives in a bubble and even on my island, all the bubbles are vacant.
Thank you to Lynette Davis and her blog post, Perseverance: My Word for 2018 I set off to figure out my Word for 2018. I have done this exercise in the past, but the stress level of 2018 weighed too heavily to figure out or worry what ultimately this year was going to be defined as.
Then, after today’s conversation with Manuel, at Emotions of Life, I figured out my 2018 word: DELIBERATE.
Originally, after a three-hour meditative morning, I had decided that REGENERATE would serve me well. After all, the past six or seven years have been a regenerative process that needed to come to a close some time soon. So, why not dedicate this year to finish that process?
Until I realized it is even more important to be deliberate in everything I do. This illumination dawned on me as most relevant. So I changed regenerate into deliberate then set off to find a song that speaks directly to this deliberate mind set? I choose David Gilmour “There’s No Way Out of Here”.
This is the exact opposite of how I feel though, so why would I choose such a song?
I love the sadness of this song. I am perpetually sad so it fits in with my demeanor. Oh! except when I am riding on a high!
Reverse psychology works! “What? I can’t get out of here? Watch me!”
I wanted a song I could listen to over and over.
I needed a song others could listen to over and over.
I have not listened to this song for years, so it felt new.
So? Will you choose a word for this year to meditate upon? One way to go about this is to head over to Word Art and start mindstorming words that speak to you.
Choose words that address your emotions. Pick a favorite color, action words that fit in with your personality, or find descriptive words of your favorite place to be. My chosen words in my Word Art are:
There’s No Way Out of Here
If you do this, please let me know! I want to read yours!! 🙂
with fear and trembling
destiny’s road perishes
the horizon comes to light
Work out your own salvation. Do not depend on others.
Adler’s psychological theory upholds the individual as the sole creator of oneself. This sentiment goes against every spiritual thought of mine. Our salvation cannot solely be fought alone. I agree wholeheartedly with Jung and the collective unconscious. We uphold each other, in conscious ego and dark of shadow. Yet, there is room outside the lines. The box that holds only so much air, must be pried open if we are to remain healthy. Sometimes that means we go it alone.
Have faith as a mustard seed: never give into obstacles, push the rocks aside, persevere in all adversity and let your light shine.
The charming blue dots
sprinkling the craggy shores of Maine,
adventure atop the rolling ocean waves.
notice the five-star fingers
of peaceful dreams unknown.
Synchronicity fathoms space and time.
Coincidences are spiritual puns. –G.K. Chesterton (1874 – 1936)