We are silly little creatures.
Why would you concern yourself with us?
Why turn your magnificent heart toward such tiny trinkets?
It’s not the pull of the trinkets.
It’s the nature of your magnificent heart
To touch the soul of each little thing
And bring it to
Its full and glorious self.
Life calls to life.
Love calls to love.
Beauty calls to beauty.
You call to me.
[photo by Mike Bizeau from his wonderful photo blog, Nature has no Boss, used with permission]
It seems I am continually befuddled.
I question myself and I question my questions.
I gaze at my navel and I wander around the corners of my mind.
And it seems I go nowhere.
So …
I am thankful that the world is not held together by my understanding.
I am glad that the mystery of love is actually … a mystery.
I am grateful that my fidgeting soul, like a small and restless child, can be held
And held, and held,
Until I can fight no more
And I put my head upon your shoulder
And sleep.
[photo by FUMIGRAPHIK-Photographist per cc 2.0]
I am deep within the woods, encompassed by green and damp and shadow. The quiet hum of nature surrounds me and the path I walk opens up just a bit to a small clearing with a stump in the middle: a forest altar. I have not seen this particular one before, but know their holy purpose.
I bring myself – I bring my heart – into this place and try to let go of the rush of my day and the noise of my encapsulated life. I try to drop the urgency of the routine so that I can be here. Whatever else, a moment’s touch with truth is necessary for my day. There are many layers I have put up around my soul to keep it from this touch, yet the touch is life. Continue reading
You are, indeed, the great recycler. Not necessarily a moniker I should embrace for You in times of meditation. It seems a bit … well … too close to ‘sanitation engineer.’ But then, I need some cleaning up. My life becomes so easily cluttered and stained. My closet is too full of things I have laid aside in haste, thinking that I’ll sort them out later.
So often my life seems to wind its way along with muddle in its wake.
But nothing is wasted for You: no breath, no hope, nor hurt, nor sadness. You have the time to hold them all until they find their resolution in Your arms. It is in You that life comes full circle – that wholeness becomes whole; that all is redeemed, reclaimed, renewed. No atom is lost, but finds its way to a new home, a new bond, a new purpose, a new joy.
You take the hidden rhythms of chaos and fold them into wonder.
I breathe in the exhalation of the trees and smile in grateful abandon, releasing myself to this same eternal rhythm. I have no choice, of course. But I like to participate, as best I can, anyway. Maybe that simple smile along the way is how I join the dance.
[photo by Angélica Portales per cc 2.0 – made from PET soda bottles]
I’ve got the straw ready in the manger.
I’ve mucked the stalls and moved the donkey to the back corner.
I’ve done my best to hide the mess of my life.
Why won’t you come, already?
I sit at the entrance to the stable-cave.
I look out at the night, at the stars.
I listen to the quiet of the town.
I push the noise of my own heart to the side.
And then the donkey brays.
His raucous voice invades the night.
He graces the stable with a fuming pile of crap.
Isn’t that the way it goes?
I think I’ve fixed it all, but it won’t stay fixed.
I’ve plotted and planned and futzed.
But the mess won’t go away.
Life is just that way.
And isn’t that the message of the manger?
It wasn’t pristine straw.
It wasn’t picturesque.
It was the middle of life as it happens.
Yet you came.
As a mother I should remember
That there is no control in pregnancy.
It doesn’t come when you want or wait till you are ready.
I should learn Mary’s lesson, and rejoice.
I don’t know how your gift can be accomplished.
After all, I am just me.
But I’ll trust your word and give you what I can.
And let you do the rest.
And you do.
Thank God.
You do.
Amen.
[photo by SuSanA Secretariat per cc 2.0]
It is ok to seek to understand
Even though it seems a futile task
Since the infinite is . . . infinite
The seeking breaks the smaller shells
Skin by skin the snake can grow
And growth is good
So long as I remember there is more
And so long as there is room for laughter
[cropped and filtered photo by Luis Sarabia per cc 2.0]
Could it be true
that what you long for most
is my smile when I look upon you,
just as I long for yours?
Could it be
that this connection
is the heart of all creation?
Could it be
that you want my bliss
more than I do?
Could it be
that you hold it in your hands right now,
and offer it as a free gift of love?
Then let us gaze upon each other
and smile.
[photo by Abhinay Omkar per cc 2.0]
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]
Quiet Hope 
