Little girl dances by the side of the ocean
Releasing the music of her soul,
Leaving its footprints on the sand,
Celebrating the greater dance that engulfs her,
Immersing herself in that joy.
Like turtles in the ocean,
She has found her natural home.
[cropped from photo by Sarah Horrigan per cc 2.0]
Sometimes it’s not the thunderclap,
but the raindrop’s tap
that steals my heart.
To know that you are God enough to pay attention to the smallest detail:
The shiver of an aspen leaf,
the remembered smell of my grandmother’s perfume
the burst of a blueberry upon my tongue
the whispered beauty on a wrinkled face
my daughter’s sigh as she sleeps in my arms
These seal my soul in you.
Let me be the cricket,
singing praise upon your hearth.
10/2/11
[photo by Mark Robinson per cc 2.0]
I ask what you want me to do.
But, you don’t really care about that.
It’s what I become that matters most
And I can become while doing most anything,
If I do it with you.
If you can show me how to do that – how to become while doing – I can do anything.
Is that confusing enough? No wonder I wander in circles. Or, perhaps, that is how I walk the labyrinth.
( Sinatra got it right – ‘Do be do be do’ solving the philosophical quandary of the centuries. It is about both – doing and being – one leading to the other, in turn: recursive grace.)
5 2 15
[color added to image from Wikimedia Commons]
I spent Friday night with friends and laughter. An accident of a party, really, cobbled together through emails, crossing in space and finally finding resolution in phone calls and hallway conversations. What started as a muddled mess became a confluence of smiles.
There were stories told around the table, some with more laughter than actual words. One story sparked another, one not quite finished before another one began, interweaving themes and characters.
But, really, it was the friendship, itself, that was the story of the night. The stories beneath the stories, built upon shared lives and common experience. New friends and old – all old enough to know the challenge and beauty that is life – and yet choosing to echo beauty. It was a feast of friendship; a sustenance of souls.
What a miracle – this thread of joy that binds my days and years; this tapestry of lives, woven together. What a gift to spend my days in the company of such vibrant, wry, witty, wise, gifted and connected souls.
Thank you. Thank you, my friends.
5 16 15
[cropped and filtered from photo by Steve McFarland per cc 2.0]
Heaven awaits you.
It will come at the very moment
that you are enfolded in the arms of God
with full assurance that you are,
indeed,
deeply loved and treasured
for exactly who you are.
God’s arms are open now.
They ache for this embrace.
Lean in, lean in,
and enter heaven.
There is no need to wait.
5 12 15
[photo by Manu Praba per cc 2.0]
a focus on the world expands my vision
a focus on God deepens it
i need both
i was born into the tangible
to expand my soul sufficiently
to embrace the intangible
to embrace – and to be embraced –
by you and by You.
5 2 15
[photo by Kellar Wilson per cc 2.0]
I sit wondering …
Am I too self-reflective?
I’ll ask my navel.
4 10 15
[trying my hand at senryu; photo ‘question mark graffiti‘ by Bilal Kamoon by per cc 2.0]
Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart. –Rumi
Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it. –Rumi
I’m jealous of Rumi, you know. Such delicious words, slicing through to the very heart of things, letting life ring. A clear bell of a voice – his words are not holders of knowledge, but windows to the very heart of reality. They open me. Continue reading
Moishe the Beadle, in introducing the young Elie Wiesel to the ways of mystery, insisted that, ‘every question possessed a power that was lost in the answer.’
How so?
If I follow his lead … I don’t answer this question. I let it work its power in my heart.
(Not easy, is it?)
[Wiesel, E. (1958). Night. (2006 translation by M. Wiesel) New York: Hill & Wang. p. 5] [photo adapted from ‘Rabbi Avrohom Osdoba‘ by Joe Goldberg per cc 2.0]
Quiet Hope 
