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Carried Across The Sky

Sometimes I go about pitying myself while I am carried by the wind across the sky

Mercy

By | Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Contemporary Issues, Current Issues, Ingegral Spirituality/Psychology, Mysticism, Nonviolence, Saying the Unsayable, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

Our concept of mercy changes
As our image of God changes.

First, there are the gods who
Remain aloof, separate from us, who reward
And punish us whimsically in storm, in drought,
In famine, in plenty. We never know, we can only
Hope to win their favor, that they show mercy
In plenty.

Then there is the God who reaches out to us,
God’s chosen. If we the chosen follow the Law,
Offer placating sacrifice, extend mercy to others,
Mercy will be given to us. If we fail in any of these
Requirements, favor will be withheld. In its place
We will be punished. We plead for forgiveness,
for mercy as restoration of relationship.

Then there are those who experience a much larger God.
A God who is merciful to God’s chosen even when
They fail to live up to what is expected.
When the chosen deserve punishment and expect it,
God responds by embracing them, taking them back
Time and again.

And then an even much larger God is experienced as extending
Mercy to everyone in this same way, moving out beyond
The chosen in an all-inclusive embrace. And this mercy
Is once again freely given, even when the whole world
Is deserving of punishment and expects it.

Then there is the God who lives among us
As one of us. Whose very Presence in our midst
Bespeaks mercy. We see in the eyes of God a mirror
Which reflects back to us only love. And we call such mercy
God’s loving compassion. We experience a constant
Flow of unearned forgiveness. We realize that God doesn’t
Even judge us.

And then the mystics experience that God’s ground
Is our ground, and our ground is God’s ground.
And that is true for all of Creation which is the incarnation
Of the Word of God, the Christ, and that there never was
any separation between God and the Christ and never can be.
We have only to awake to our reality in God.
We are as Meister Eckhart says, The generosity of God.
And this is true whether we acknowledge it or not.

When we awake to this Reality, we can in truth lay claim
To what has always been True. In this sense grace,
God’s life freely given, replaces any need for mercy.
God is Graceful to all, even before time existed.

How?

By | Asking the Question, Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Ingegral Spirituality/Psychology, Mysticism, Poetry, Saying the Unsayable, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

How could it come to this?
This not wanting to be good
For anybody.
(Not a meanness)
Just a wanting to leave
The stage
Where goodness merits applause.
And the critics
Hold your fate in the palm
Of their hand,
Where one slip could end it all
And there goes the train
Leaving the station without you.

Makes one feel important
When all is going well.
Salvation  a morality play,
All hanging on for dear life
To the script.

Where’s the wildness?

(Not a sowing of more oats)
Mainly the freedom
To walk away
From the confines
of the organization,

toward the One who deals
only in unabashed love,
whose Beauty keeps ambushing me,
revealing infinite mutual longing.

To stop refusing
Such generosity
that doesn’t care to hear
that I deserve only banishment
to the servants’ quarters,
when all this Love wants is
to put a ring on my finger,
sandals on my feet, cover me
with a royal robe,

And nothing else seems
To matter– except to
welcome me home.”

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The Fading Shine of the Golden Ring

By | Asking the Question, Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Contemporary Issues, Ingegral Spirituality/Psychology, Mysticism, Nature, Poetry, Saying the Unsayable, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

This path I have walked,
My life
Has been circling round
Back to
Fearful, clinging places,
More like promises of brambles.

I labeled the lessons a nuisance,
failed them
Cursed my fate.
Hard lessons,
More like crucifixions.

My faith
In the golden ring
Has worn deep the path
I have trod.

At least now
I am heading toward the precipice
Overlooking a fiery inferno
To receive it.

God help me–

To walk away divorced.
This time wanting only the true bride,
The one my soul has always
Yearned for.

Ringing the Bell and Hiding in the Bushes

By | Asking the Question, Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Ingegral Spirituality/Psychology, Mysticism, Poetry, Saying the Unsayable, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

If nothing else, what is called religion
ought to be teaching us to be attentive to those
border crossings of the Trickster who lives within us.
We ought to be alerted to our being
Sons and daughters of a Pure Generosity
Who can’t wait to come to us as Spirit and Light,
As Living Water, as Bread, and who
surprises us, often when we least expect it,
leaves a cornucopia of spiritual food on the doorstep
rings the bell and hides in the bushes.
We ought to be alerted, so when this happens,
we can say with clarity we have been visited
by the Divine Grocer and Artist of the Beautiful,
who gives us this bread and living water,
Spirit, and Light, and often
crouches smiling as we stand on the step
gazing out, hoping for a glimpse
of the One we knew would come.
If religion does this right
we will be glad,
that our Lover is out and about,
and can’t stop thinking of us.

Imperial Soldiers

By | Ahimsa, Asking the Question, Contemporary Issues, Current Issues, Nonviolence, Poetry, Saying the Unsayable, Social Justice, War | No Comments

How easy to end up
A soldier in a strange land,
the empire dressed to kill.
Freedom isn’t found like
that. Too late to question,
You only seek to survive.
Those praying for your safe return
go about their business,
While you do the business of those
who have played you.

How many villages must be laid waste?
How many cities rubbled, bridges bombed,
connections severed,
While those who really seek freedom
cry out in pain for a place at the table,
denied them. Cursed as they are to be born
in lands of plenty, and to have none of it.
They keep rising up and are shot down
in their own streets.

How can it be said,
that the empire is fighting for its freedom
When it is only taking
What it wants from others?
Do you see what I mean by asking the question?

In war, the poor keep killing the poor,
With no recognition of common plight.
Those who survive, return home
Dragging their medals. They roam the streets,
Forgotten, empty shell-shocked casings filled with
a story too sad to tell.

While Moving Along

By | Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Ingegral Spirituality/Psychology, Mysticism, Natural World, Nature, Poetry, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

As I move along in time and space
Sometimes I get stuck
Or maybe I’m just lingering
before circling back
To pick up something missed
Or undo something done,
if that were ever possible.
Or to try again and this time embrace
Or let go more gracefully.
To own something stuffed away back then
And to carry forward, no shoulds or oughts
or have tos this time.

To look more closely
at what was once forbidden
To skip some beats
While humming old tunes
To laugh out loud at the absurd
when before told to be silent.

I keep picking up my old tracks
Taking longer strides
Or shorter ones, depending on something
different now. A little
out of sync,
while smiling at the first time passer.

This returning, never quite the same,
spiraling higher, dipping deeper–
I’m casting myself
and flying over a stream
before lighting once again on the moving water,
wondering at being devoured,
Yet, knowing I am tethered to a line
of infinite length and unbreakable.

We Are What We Seek

By | Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Contemporary Issues, Current Issues, Mysticism, Natural World, Nature, Nonviolence, Poetry, Social Justice, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

Why do we stand outside the temple
wondering what prayers will open the gates?
We have only to say, “Please, open.”
And what is inside will be revealed.

No need to travel to Rome,
Or visit a hundred churches.
The key is in our pocket.
We are what we seek.

Does the divine spend the day
looking around for divinity?
Why would we spend the day any differently?
God sees God everywhere.
Time to look in the mirror
and see God.

Shadow Boxing

By | Ahimsa, Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Contemporary Issues, Current Issues, Mysticism, Nonviolence, Poetry, Spirituality, Wisdom/Compassion | No Comments

While the rest of the floor is spotless.
There is yet a bit of a mess in the kitchen.

It is possible, I am afraid, to “awaken,”
To become a guru,
And while chanting “Om”
Be oblivious to what’s under the stove
and refrigerator.

Sometimes monsters appear in night time dreams.
Hard to sweep them away.

Better to befriend the spirits within,
that will not be thrown out.
Too much demands to be heard,
Taken back, owned.

Some will say, “We are not our resentment;
nor are we other than our resentment.”
That’s wisdom hard to fathom.
But unless we get this, it will always be
the others who are resentful. Others angry.

And we, of course, are fine,
Righteous and upstanding,
Maybe even a guru.
Even though
the monsters don’t go away,
And the kitchen begins to smell.

Border Crossings

By | Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Contemporary Issues, Mysticism, Natural World, Nature, Poetry, Social Justice, Spirituality | No Comments

As you go about your work
Look around you.
Here, the trees are flames.
The sky filled with the sound of geese.
Stirrings of autumn.
All this beauty.

But you can stop anywhere,
Attentive

One day you might find yourself
asking, What happened?
Who touched me?

And taking a step in any direction,
Find the divine running toward you,
Already having crossed the border
A hundred times without your knowing.

When we awaken,
we will see;
Not knowing,
we just go on our way.

New Day

By | Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Mysticism, Natural World, Nature, Poetry, Spirituality | No Comments

Do you know what is happening right now?
Oh, it is too much really for words.
In the west, the full moon, setting,
still peeks through the trees
of the forest.
I thought my Love was going away to rest.

But in the east, the golden
light of dawn is rising over the mountains
and my Love is running to me.
The shine in His eyes is the color of peaches.
We are going to spend the day together.
And He is planning another hundred ways to love me.