Sarcastic monasticism.The religiosity of the outrageously perfect, the source of enlightenment, pinnacle of perfection in human form. The best way, the straight line toward home,heaven's only legitimate heir. This is not Jesus we are discussing here but the rear who cheers on their own ears by confirming of the obvious. Right, of course they are. And now here it is again,point well taken,just as was assumed. Then on to exhuming another body,soul or spirit to probe with the microscope and tweezers.
We wees and sigh, approaching reproach and contempt. We fry in the hot oil of spoiled attempts that never get it quite right ,say it correctly. We the barbaric are pardoned out of the goodness of ...
Love is the only place of deliverance, the safe haven. Try as we might, we'll never be what it is that the critical are looking for. It is never enough for them as they look into their mirror, they will not be satisfied there either.
Our only option is to return to the innocence of childhood when naivete was the kiss on our senselessness. The time when we were not suffered with but celebrated for the curious,daring and venerable creatures-children we were(should have stayed,never should have stopped being).
Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.
But they do matter.This is no child left behind in its purest form.The first shall be last and the last shall be first.Patience everyone, with them and yourselves.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
When heat rises from the earth
When heat rises from the earth.
I think that we are responsible for the heat that rises from the earth. How else (o.k. there are other explanations) can you explain away the fact that the sun stays relatively the same distance from us, yet we have blistering hot days and cold cloudy days (even within the same week)… I think that we do this to ourselves. And even with all that we know about stress being a killer, we intentionally stress ourselves out. I think we imagine that we are Jack Bauer who is always stressed out and looks physically uncomfortable most of the time unless they add a little makeup to his cheeks so he can appear exciting to the next beautiful woman that he is employed to kiss passionately.
Maybe we think that stress brings relevance to our otherwise humdrum lives. So daily as individual stress generators we bring heat to the earth. We are the green house effect. We are producing the carbon monoxide that pollutes our air, we are the methane. Our stress is actuated as gas in our atmosphere. We are the big farts doing this harm to ourselves. Forget the cows on a thousand hills, its us folks…GMC, Ford Motor Company, Toyota, and the like, we apologize. We are the enemy. It’s all about us.
I think that we are responsible for the heat that rises from the earth. How else (o.k. there are other explanations) can you explain away the fact that the sun stays relatively the same distance from us, yet we have blistering hot days and cold cloudy days (even within the same week)… I think that we do this to ourselves. And even with all that we know about stress being a killer, we intentionally stress ourselves out. I think we imagine that we are Jack Bauer who is always stressed out and looks physically uncomfortable most of the time unless they add a little makeup to his cheeks so he can appear exciting to the next beautiful woman that he is employed to kiss passionately.
Maybe we think that stress brings relevance to our otherwise humdrum lives. So daily as individual stress generators we bring heat to the earth. We are the green house effect. We are producing the carbon monoxide that pollutes our air, we are the methane. Our stress is actuated as gas in our atmosphere. We are the big farts doing this harm to ourselves. Forget the cows on a thousand hills, its us folks…GMC, Ford Motor Company, Toyota, and the like, we apologize. We are the enemy. It’s all about us.
15 Minutes
This is 15 minutes.
Fifteen minutes is a long time when it comes to breathing or heart pounding. When we struggle with either, 15 minutes can seem like and eternity. But with words on a blank page, now that is decidedly different. The blank page represents opportunity, and oppression all at the same time.
Now on to oppression.
There was once a very oppressive place. It was situated between Stress and Anger streets. Its only positive attribute was that every so often, some one would come along and because of the frivolous nature of Oppression; that overtly exaggerated expression of childish power mongering coupled with aggressive pouting, that some light hearted soul would find it quite difficult not to laugh. Now, if you laugh at Oppression or Stress or Anger for that matter, your libel to get socked right in the nostrils. But if your strong or beautiful, have gentle eyes, a pretty smile or are sincere, you could simply be ignored. Being ignored is not so horrible. As a matter of fact, being ignored is something that occurs to the best of us every second.
We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. When was the last time that you said, ’Hello’ or ‘Whatcha doin?’..,to any of them or all collectively? How do you know that you wouldn’t get an answer???? What do you think ‘They’ do all day? Are they of one mind, or is each on a mission to collect data, watching us as we get stressed or angry or oppressed or oppress or laugh. Maybe they are constantly swinging the rope of peaceful satisfaction. Theirs is a train of good and pure thoughts. Maybe they cheer us on; maybe they are loud but are drowned out by our stress, oppression or anger.
How can we better hear that which is perfect and ready to serve all around us? Laugh. Laugh. Laugh… and listen. Don’t worry if you forget to, they’ll still be here…
Fifteen minutes is a long time when it comes to breathing or heart pounding. When we struggle with either, 15 minutes can seem like and eternity. But with words on a blank page, now that is decidedly different. The blank page represents opportunity, and oppression all at the same time.
Now on to oppression.
There was once a very oppressive place. It was situated between Stress and Anger streets. Its only positive attribute was that every so often, some one would come along and because of the frivolous nature of Oppression; that overtly exaggerated expression of childish power mongering coupled with aggressive pouting, that some light hearted soul would find it quite difficult not to laugh. Now, if you laugh at Oppression or Stress or Anger for that matter, your libel to get socked right in the nostrils. But if your strong or beautiful, have gentle eyes, a pretty smile or are sincere, you could simply be ignored. Being ignored is not so horrible. As a matter of fact, being ignored is something that occurs to the best of us every second.
We are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses. When was the last time that you said, ’Hello’ or ‘Whatcha doin?’..,to any of them or all collectively? How do you know that you wouldn’t get an answer???? What do you think ‘They’ do all day? Are they of one mind, or is each on a mission to collect data, watching us as we get stressed or angry or oppressed or oppress or laugh. Maybe they are constantly swinging the rope of peaceful satisfaction. Theirs is a train of good and pure thoughts. Maybe they cheer us on; maybe they are loud but are drowned out by our stress, oppression or anger.
How can we better hear that which is perfect and ready to serve all around us? Laugh. Laugh. Laugh… and listen. Don’t worry if you forget to, they’ll still be here…
Friday, June 11, 2010
Written into
Your written into the story, page 789,243,135,790...paragraph 3, sentence 4, seventh word-hyphenated. Your name is in italics and then the hyphen with the condition,affliction,position.
Someone has used a green highlighter for emphasis . Maybe you did this before, when you knew how to handle the communication.Maybe someone who with angelic kindness meant to call attention to you. A mother perhaps or grandmother. Someone called out your name to be heard in the cloud of witnesses, hoping to make the echo course upward to the foot of the throne of grace.
There is a drone that hums on...constant. Like the sound of bees in a hive, we are very loud collectively.We make it hard to be distinguished simply by our sheer volume,our chatter.We are all extremely buzy.Even sitting still, we perform a cacophony of static, no meaning discipherable...it is not intended to be.
We keep occupied so we can forget that , at present, our footprint is small. In the heavenlies, our spiritual footprint is very small.With hardly an impression, we generally are assisted by ancestors who can't render a drop of water,but can give a word.Like that one on page 789,243,135,790 paragraph 3-sentence 4-word seven.
If we look carefully inward we can read that measly word. What does it say? Forgotten,Lazy, Tired,Withered,Lost,Broken,Wretched,Blind,Naked?This means us,and we know this????
Criminal negligence, Run for your life, the sky is falling. Stop drop and roll!Crawl on your belly all the days of your shadow.
And we are shadow. Not one effectual movement.We grasp and have nothing.We cry to a concrete ,soundproffed ceiling walls floor. All good works being evasive reflection.We are anti-matter.Vapor. Every man at his best state is but a vapor.Surely every man walks about like a shadow, surely they buzy themselves in vain.He heaps up riches- and does not know who will gather them.
Someone has used a green highlighter for emphasis . Maybe you did this before, when you knew how to handle the communication.Maybe someone who with angelic kindness meant to call attention to you. A mother perhaps or grandmother. Someone called out your name to be heard in the cloud of witnesses, hoping to make the echo course upward to the foot of the throne of grace.
There is a drone that hums on...constant. Like the sound of bees in a hive, we are very loud collectively.We make it hard to be distinguished simply by our sheer volume,our chatter.We are all extremely buzy.Even sitting still, we perform a cacophony of static, no meaning discipherable...it is not intended to be.
We keep occupied so we can forget that , at present, our footprint is small. In the heavenlies, our spiritual footprint is very small.With hardly an impression, we generally are assisted by ancestors who can't render a drop of water,but can give a word.Like that one on page 789,243,135,790 paragraph 3-sentence 4-word seven.
If we look carefully inward we can read that measly word. What does it say? Forgotten,Lazy, Tired,Withered,Lost,Broken,Wretched,Blind,Naked?This means us,and we know this????
Criminal negligence, Run for your life, the sky is falling. Stop drop and roll!Crawl on your belly all the days of your shadow.
And we are shadow. Not one effectual movement.We grasp and have nothing.We cry to a concrete ,soundproffed ceiling walls floor. All good works being evasive reflection.We are anti-matter.Vapor. Every man at his best state is but a vapor.Surely every man walks about like a shadow, surely they buzy themselves in vain.He heaps up riches- and does not know who will gather them.
Hear my prayer Oh Lord and give ear to my cry. Do not be silent at my tears, for I am a stranger with you. A sojourner as all my fathers and mothers were.Remove your plague from me . That I may regain strength. Before I go away , and am no more.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Hello
I have stopped here for a moment. I promise nothing. I am only standing still long enough to reach out . There...On ward christian soldiers marching as to war.
This is my secret. There is a red page, All red and at the bottom is a tiny little mouth. The mouth has an opening and you would need a powerful microphone to hear what comes out of it. But this is alright to the mouth. It doesn't care if its sound falls on deaf ears. The red is its heart.
The heart is huge. It is bloody red and muscular with pulsating veins that are blue and purple.It also has a constant rhythm.Boom,slosh,Boom,slosh,Boom.It never leaks.It is growing fatter,fuller,stronger. If you could see them , There are also large , rounded ears. They listen to everything you say.
With fingers, the page is flipped.
The page here is gray and strange.
This page is gray and filled. Too full to fit even a moment of ... The book comes to a halt. I stop again,flaccid.When I react to time constraints I go limp. There is too much to do.And , there is no one here to spell this out for. In this great chasm of gray , I stumble like a drunkard, disoriented and confused . What did I do a minute ago?Yesterday? I wait for a still small voice with a big heart to hear this void and fix it.Straighten out the fabric of life , iron it smooth .Then, lift it up and flap it in the hot afternoon breeze. Let it snap in the wind all day. Let it become shade for birds and children, husbands and children. Then let this be me: I hear the voice, I am enlarged, with a bloody red heart ,big ears and a tiny little mouth. Then let someone I love put their ear to my mouth so that I can say the words,'I LOVE YOU'.
This is my secret. There is a red page, All red and at the bottom is a tiny little mouth. The mouth has an opening and you would need a powerful microphone to hear what comes out of it. But this is alright to the mouth. It doesn't care if its sound falls on deaf ears. The red is its heart.
The heart is huge. It is bloody red and muscular with pulsating veins that are blue and purple.It also has a constant rhythm.Boom,slosh,Boom,slosh,Boom.It never leaks.It is growing fatter,fuller,stronger. If you could see them , There are also large , rounded ears. They listen to everything you say.
With fingers, the page is flipped.
The page here is gray and strange.
This page is gray and filled. Too full to fit even a moment of ... The book comes to a halt. I stop again,flaccid.When I react to time constraints I go limp. There is too much to do.And , there is no one here to spell this out for. In this great chasm of gray , I stumble like a drunkard, disoriented and confused . What did I do a minute ago?Yesterday? I wait for a still small voice with a big heart to hear this void and fix it.Straighten out the fabric of life , iron it smooth .Then, lift it up and flap it in the hot afternoon breeze. Let it snap in the wind all day. Let it become shade for birds and children, husbands and children. Then let this be me: I hear the voice, I am enlarged, with a bloody red heart ,big ears and a tiny little mouth. Then let someone I love put their ear to my mouth so that I can say the words,'I LOVE YOU'.
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Stint
I need a stint in my pulminary blood vessel. At the heart of my life there has been some compression which has caused a kink in the flow of true compassion. The stint I speak of is the word of God which causes the blood to flow freely. I don't get enough. Even if I read the bible everyday, all day,I would not get enough(that's a cop out).
First off,there is business to attend to. Always business .Responsibilities: schedules,house,garden,scoliosis,arthritis,car chores,phone chores,dog and cat chores...
There are people who make too much noise and confusion , so these, because I have the overriding business to take care of ,(for the most part) I shut off. Because I shut them off, they make more noise and confusion. I know in the smallness of my heart that they need more,more of me, and that is why they act this way. I walk to the bedroom, grab a blanket, go into the closet, close the door, wrap myself up and get into the fetal position.I don't feel better because of it.NO.
No ...No...
This is what actually happens in my good day . I get up, look at the sky and say once again,THANK YOU SO MUCH!I don't hide, but express my love with the tithes of giving and sharing,caring ,holding on. I speak hope to the weary and confused,Life to the lost and alone.Peace to the frantic and angry. God to those perishing.
I tell it like it is, " I'm in love with you everyday. You and you and you and you...etc.etc.etc.
To my own soul I say, It is well.
First off,there is business to attend to. Always business .Responsibilities: schedules,house,garden,scoliosis,arthritis,car chores,phone chores,dog and cat chores...
There are people who make too much noise and confusion , so these, because I have the overriding business to take care of ,(for the most part) I shut off. Because I shut them off, they make more noise and confusion. I know in the smallness of my heart that they need more,more of me, and that is why they act this way. I walk to the bedroom, grab a blanket, go into the closet, close the door, wrap myself up and get into the fetal position.I don't feel better because of it.NO.
No ...No...
This is what actually happens in my good day . I get up, look at the sky and say once again,THANK YOU SO MUCH!I don't hide, but express my love with the tithes of giving and sharing,caring ,holding on. I speak hope to the weary and confused,Life to the lost and alone.Peace to the frantic and angry. God to those perishing.
I tell it like it is, " I'm in love with you everyday. You and you and you and you...etc.etc.etc.
To my own soul I say, It is well.
Monday, May 12, 2008
I am waiting for an encounter.
A shout from the roof top
a sweet drop of water on the tongue.
I am waiting to get my seat unbuckled
to get out of the chair.
to be done.
to see what fair and balanced looks like.
I am waiting , now.
A siren scream
a waking dream
a timely spoken word
like the new song , heard
I am waiting for belief to become sight.
I am waiting for light and sweet.
I am waiting for meat to replace the milk
for my sword to be placed back in its hilt.
for Peace.
I am waiting ,NOW
it is slow
but I am patient
because
I can hear the cries and feel the labor pangs.
A shout from the roof top
a sweet drop of water on the tongue.
I am waiting to get my seat unbuckled
to get out of the chair.
to be done.
to see what fair and balanced looks like.
I am waiting , now.
A siren scream
a waking dream
a timely spoken word
like the new song , heard
I am waiting for belief to become sight.
I am waiting for light and sweet.
I am waiting for meat to replace the milk
for my sword to be placed back in its hilt.
for Peace.
I am waiting ,NOW
it is slow
but I am patient
because
I can hear the cries and feel the labor pangs.
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