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Category

Nature

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.

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.

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.

No One Told Us

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

We are millionaires whose bank accounts
have been done in by our own inflation,
out on the street, our life confiscated
by the imperial status quo.

We learned early that rocks were inert
and no harm done in kicking them around.
We sat in obedient rows.
Graduated proficient in math but not in wisdom.

No one told us the universe was made for joy
We never just shoved the desks aside and danced
That would have been too much, the wall flowers
already relegated to remaining alone.

There are those who like things this way,
who benefit from our monotony
They are crocodiles who consume the human
Bring us down to crawling on our bellies

They fear the artists among us
those who see qualities and connection,
who sense that atoms are in relationship
from one end of space to the other.

Sacred Geography

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

We are not trodding out along some horizontal
plain, searching for an abandoned house
to die in, alone. Ladders are everywhere
angels ascending and descending
A sacred geography, the cross
with a heart at the center.

Why do we keep searching
for the one more beautiful
than all the others, to be desired
above the rest,
the One whose name is Beauty?

If not, we might as well see the road
but not the sky, crawl on our bellies
and not walk upright
watch the light go its separate way
at the end of the day
and we to our fitful sleep.

Find this One,
Let this One find you,
And even the darkness will
be luminous.

Mercy

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

A poem inspired by Mystical Hope*

We are card-carrying members
Of the Body of Creation,
No opting out,
No other place to go.
Born into participation
Others dying for us
Transformed for us
Following the pattern
Of death and resurrection
Into life, nothing lost.
Just taking time.

We are being carried
Whether we know it or not
Whether we like it or not,
By a great Love,
From which there is no falling out.
We can only be fools, until
The day Wisdom takes hold of us,
and our eyes are opened.
That day will come

When all is stripped away,
And the “gold kernel” rests
At the wellspring of hope where
the soul meets its ground.
And we who are carried,
Will carry others

Until all is said and done–fulfilled,
And the embracing Love, which has
Always been there, its only desire
Union, smiles from within us
On everything.

*Cynthia Bourgeault, Mystical Hope (New York, Chicago: A Cowley Publications Book, 2001)
** “Gold Kernel” See Mystical Hope, p. 70-71)

The Prayer of Making Bread

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

In a moment I will make the bread.
The practice: to be wholly present
To the work–
To touch the flour
Not thinking of tomorrow.
To measure the yeast
Free from worry, guilt, and yearning,
Envying not other’s joy,
While thinking not enough for me.
To pour the water
And suffer in my body
Mother earth’s tears of mourning,
Bear such suffering should it come.
To add the salt
As sweat of presence to
Each moment’s holding
Of solidarity, and not to flee.
To make of the kneading
A weaving of wholeness
From all the parts.
And to it all
remember gratitude.
In this moment of breadmaking,
Can I partake in the joy of
Being here in simple kitchen
And nowhere else wishing to be?
Can I share in your
sweet sorrow bourn
in my own life, holding us all together.
Can I breathe in
while breathing in,
Make bread
while making bread?

Walking

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

I am a pilgrim
Walking by the light of the moon
In and out of shadows
Having to peer into the darkness,
To see at all.

Beckoned, I am
Urged to keep on the journey
To Press on
Knowing only dimly
And not to depend on better words.

My beating heart is a lantern,
Sure and faithful hope,
Nothing more.
Therein is the union
which claims me
An infinite horizon
Of dawning light
A smile of sunrise and cool morning

Even as it illuminates
Another day of shouting and swords
Which thrive in the afternoon glare
The heat of certitude
The holding of ground
The standing there,
The giving up of walking,
The desiring only to sleep
in the night.