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Asking the Question

Living within the Flow

By | Ahimsa, Asking the Question, Contemplation, Contemplative Journey, Contemporary Issues, Current Issues, Ingegral Spirituality/Psychology, Mysticism, Nonviolence, Saying the Unsayable, Social Justice | No Comments

To live in the world with wisdom and compassion is the true vocation of every human being. Living with wisdom and compassion, within Big Mind and Big Heart, is indeed a practice. For me now this practice asks of me to live generously. And this truly is my growing edge at this time, to live within and from that mind and heart within me that is non-seeking and non-grasping.

I sense that Jesus exemplified this way of living. He was the embodiment of the mind and heart of the Father whose generosity sustains us moment to moment, a constant flowing forth of God’s own life, given for us as our very existence. This is the example that I realize I need to return to as a reminder of how to be human, which in essence is to be like God to others.

To the extent that I am grasping, my participation in this flowing forth from God of pure generosity is stifled. When I become a taker, but not a giver, what is meant to flow into and out of myself is blocked. Where in this is the fullness of life received and passed on to others?

The small self is hardly up to the task of living within this flow. When we live from our small self, our tendency is to count the cost, to be very cautious. We would like to earn much, gather much, and store it into barns for the future. In doing so, we build a dam in the river, and too many dams eventually destroy any flowing forth at all, so that those who live at the headwaters store the abundance of the water, and those below receive a trickle. Fear, mistrust, anger, envy, resentment abound at every level. This is what happens when we are all living from our small self.

There is risk, then, in living within this flow. It takes faith to give of oneself, whether this giving be in the form of one’s time, talent, or treasure. When we open the spillway of our dam, we must face our fear that we will be the only one doing so and that we will end up with a drained reservoir; taken advantage of, considered a fool and a sucker by ourselves and others.

Yet, the saints tell us that this Living Water takes many forms which can only be experienced when we take the risk of opening the spillway. In essence, we are invited to experience in a personal way how Living Water will reveal its fullness to us. We are invited to participate in an adventure.

As it stands, I have yet to learn all there is to learn about living within this flow, of really participating in it and living the adventure of it, of allowing God to surprise me with God’s own endless generosity.

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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.