The Book of Life

Book of LifeThe true book of life
Is not just a list of names
It is a wealth of stories –
Yours and mine.

And each day, we have the chance
To write another episode,
Enriching heaven’s dance,
Which has already begun.

I want to learn to dance with you
To lean my ear upon your chest
And feel the beat of life
To feel your rhythms in the very heart of me.

Even my self-conscious, awkward moves
Are not enough to stop the music.
It is all a part of the undeniable narrative of love
Danced out, within your arms.

[photo by Jo Naylor per cc 2.0]

Listen

like music - trees reflected on a lake leave the impression of sound waves

Lean your ear against the heart of the earth,
Feel its breath upon your cheek,
And listen.

Listen past the noise of the news,
Past the roar of traffic
Even past the thumping of your own heart.

Sometimes, sometimes,
You can catch the whisper of hope
That will not die.

It’s there, you know:
Emergent life,
The pure gift of irrepressible love.

Such love does not demand attention.
Instead, intentional gratitude
Can help to open your heart to its sweet call.

Listen.
It calls you now.
And waits, patiently, upon your turning.

[photo from the blog nature has no boss, posted 9/5/17, by Mike Bizeau, used with permission]

an imagined choice

candle lightI woke this morning with the vestiges of a troubled dream still roiling my soul. It remained, not so much in my memory as in my emotions. It was unsettling, and threatened to take me to a dark place. Suddenly, I could understand the idea of omens and evil spirits. I could feel the power of the imagination.

Nothing about the physical world around me was different. The sheets, tousled upon my bed, the blanket tossed aside, the taste of my morning coffee, were all as they had been yesterday and the day before. But my heart was troubled.

And now I faced a choice. I could let the dream take my imagination, or I could let my imagination take the dream. That idea … that different tone … started as a small point of light in the center of my soul.

Like a candle in the night, it flickered there, faltering, fragile in the darkness. But I cupped my hands around it and focused my attention there. Small as it was, it warmed my hands. That warmth traveled up my arms and found my heart. It began to expand within me until I found that I could breath again.

I took a deep, full breath and shook my head, and shook my soul. It broke the spell of foreboding. I listened to the chimes outside my window and the quiet breathing of my husband, there beside me. A sense of gratitude began to rise within me, just as the night began to fade to day.

Not all evil is imaginary, but sometimes imaginary evil can threaten to steal your soul. And sometimes even the evil that is real grows stronger through imagination. Even then, sometimes, you can choose to see the light, and welcome it with gratitude.

You cannot really hold the light. But sometimes you can choose to let it hold you.

May you find the light, today.
May it hold you in its warmth.
May you learn to choose hope, when you can.
And find room to be grateful,
Even now.

 

[this image was placed in the public domain by Noubi noubi]

 

Now

resurrection

He is risen!

Now … we can rise, as well.
To life
To love
To joyful celebration.

Why wait?
Eternal life starts now.

“The risen Christ is the standing icon of humanity in its full and final destiny. He is the pledge and guarantee of what God will do with all our crucifixions.” – Richard Rohr

[image cropped from photo by lady habib per cc 2.0]

Again?

Sometimes I wonder if God doesn’t get impatient with me …

Again?
Again you fall?
Again you fail?
Again you find yourself in a mess?

Yet there is something
Deep inside me
That won’t let me give up.
That continues to call me to more.

 

What if …
What if that very call is God’s spirit,
Planted deep within?
What if I am made for evolution rather than perfection?

What if the voice of impatience is my own?
What if the slow, insistent urge to unfold,
To turn imperceptibly toward the sun,
Is the true expression of God’s response to my fumbling efforts?

What if the narrative of my life
Is not a fall from grace
But a release into it?
What if that was the plan all along?

Again, I must start anew?
Of course, of course.
Always anew; always more.
That is the call of God.

And if for me
For you, too.

 

[photo by Fadil Elmansour per cc 2.0]

rabbit’s question

rabbitOne day, there was a rabbit that came to the Master with a question. Being a rabbit, she really didn’t have words to ask, but she came close and thumped her back feet and looked into the eyes of the Master in a way that he understood. He reached down and brought the rabbit close and whispered in the rabbit’s long and very sensitive ears.

“I do love you,” the Master whispered. “I always do.”

And the rabbit, after realizing that was indeed the answer to her question, curled up beside the Master and went to sleep. And this was the rabbit’s dream:

She was in a rough country, stormy and dark, very little grass, no gardens. She wondered why she should be journeying in such a place and whether any good could come of it.

And the master whispered through the dream, “I love you, always.”

And the rabbit began to hop along the path that appeared before her, stopping, on occasion, to eat a lonely sprig of grass beside the dusty path. She hopped on, unsure of why and where she was going, only sure that the path was there in front of her.

She kept hopping along for quite a while, until finally, she noticed that the grass was a bit more abundant, the sun a bit brighter, and there was small stream beside the now-less-dusty path. She stopped for a drink and to eat her fill. There was a hollow log beside the trail, so she snuggled in for a nap.

And she dreamed within her dream that she was again beside the Master, that he held her close and whispered in her long and sensitive ears, “I love you.” And she realized this was still the question that she most desired to ask, and the answer she was seeking. This was the reason she kept hopping along the trail, and this was the destination.

And she slept on, with a rabbit-smile in her heart.

[photo by Robert Allen per cc 2.0]

unlock my soul

fistAgain I find myself wrapped tight.
Like a fist, holding only my desperation,
My heart folded in upon itself.

My soul throws up questions
Not in open curiosity, but as a defense.
Fearful of my own foolishness,
I choose to turn away, rather than toward,
And ask for assurances before I yield to trust.

Perhaps it is the sensible thing to do.
Perhaps I can blame the world’s abuses,
As my reason to curl small
Around my own emptiness.

Oh, yeah?
You say you love me …
Prove it!

And you do.

As soon as I release myself enough to notice
A sunrise
A soft breeze
A friend’s smile

You do.
You always do.

[photo by damian entwistle per cc 2.0]