Opening the gate never passed,
Exposing paths never trod,
Brings fear and doubt.
Seeking truth does that,
Leading gently to greater depth and understanding,
In the end, knowing how little is known or understood.
Humility, the fruit of not clinging, allowing truth to grow.
Seeing others on the journey, fellow travelers well met,
Seekers of truth above all else.
Ideas of God let go of,
Childish projection, allowed dying,
Blinded by the light of the infinite.
The world within is a nation unto itself,
Fractured society it often seems,
Elements of destruction,
Also the desire for growth,
Live side by side often at war,
A ragtag army of malcontents
Seeking to drown those who are wise,
Who calmly whisper their counsel.
Complete satiation from fulfilled desire denied,
Only deeper hunger remains,
Worse still a deadly lethargy feeding off emptiness,
Driving one to seek with deeper desperation,
Something, anything, that can’t be fo
Winter sun in cold air crisp,
Leaves that crunch under every step,
Cool nights with delightful rain,
Winds adding to the beauty of the season.
Stars visible in sky clear of summer mist,
Silent, no sound except the gentle whisper of wind,
Caressing skin in a lovers touch,
Bringing peace as the gift offered.
This moment so much like the one before,
Yet unique as all moments are,
My blindness keeps me from the newness of this instant,
Which leads to a flatness,
Something that leads to despair.
Pregnant is what each moment is.
If I cannot see that,
Then I am asleep,
Missing the invitation to deeper life,
A transforming relationship beyond all time.
On the Moment,
In which all time is contained,
Fear is a task master hard to serve,
Offering protection from what life demands,
Back stepping a way of life,
Slowly draining freedom dry,
Into a corner back into, with only one escape;
Moving forward into life once again, if one dares.
Fear faced, backs down,
With anxiety and anger next to contend with;
A hard road to find peace,
Layer upon layer to discover,
The path to freedom
Not for the faint hearted.
Overly concern of what others think,
When in fact they really d
I was parked in the Kroger parking lot here in Conyers, Ga., waiting for Ed to return from a stop he needed to make. As I sat in my car, making my brain even more dead by listening to talk radio, which seems to be saying, that the world is on the verge of being made into a smoothie, by the blender of the world situation. Just add some ice cream for flavor, and let Bush, or whoever is made the current villain, press the button. Add that to looking out on a very crowded parking lot and well you
My old tired struggle
My innards boil,
Rage like a fiery serpent taunt,
Coiled with dark energy seeking a target,
Lusting to strike,
In a blessed unconscious moment,
A scapegoat sought,
To release my pent up repressed rage.
Followed by shame,
Repression yet again.
In caverns bottomless hidden,
Its roots wrapped around my heart
Shattering the soul
An endless maze with no escape,
Or so it seems.
Something false I sometimes
We make God into a monster,
Creating out of love we say he does,
On the other hand,
With fervor strong, deep, and hot,
Claiming that evil in the end wins.
The majority outside of God’s love
To hell doomed,
Fiery torment unending,
Men and women like me,
For some even children,
Cosigned to eternal torture.
How easy it slips from the tongue,
A simple quote,
To hell consigned,
Darkness cold absolute,
Satan wins with the greater number,
Dancing to the music
Allowing the rhythm to lead,
The intuitive flow the teacher,
Leading the body in movement ecstatic,
Freeing the mind of narcissistic concern,
Only the moment important,
Surfing the high wave of melody,
A taste of the eternal creative moment.
Flying as the body moves,
Mind, body, soul, becoming one,
Flight possible in the dance,
Weightless as the music possesses
Feet forgotten allowing them to move
In effortless union with the sou
I often asked myself,
Are my insides in conflict?
Saying one thing, doing the opposite,
Acting strong in control,
Knowing I am weak and compelled.
I often feel like an undisciplined mob
Scattered on the wind,
Thoughts racing going nowhere.
Who is it asking the question,
This observer calmly looking on.
Am I one or many?
When death comes
Is this observer the one who survives?
The riddle life deepens,
Knowing less each day,
Yet the roots of faith hold st
Yesterday was one of those days. You know how it is………as the hour’s progress things seem to build up, inner tension worsens, and about all that can be done is to simply try to get by without taking it out on someone else. I can get real short with people if my inner reserves get too stretched. I sometimes get a brittle feeling, sort of like dry taffy pulled to the point of tearing in into two pieces. I know it is just part of the cycle, moods change, energy levels vary, but that does not me
What we take for granted is often of greatest value,
Foolishly thought to be eternal
When actually to be torn away suddenly,
Leaving a void of regret
Cold and dark filled with memories,
Remembrance of a smile,
The gentle touch,
Kindness unmentioned upon,
Now understood and mourned,
Never again to be experienced
From the one taken for granted.
It is so easy to forget we are temporal,
Our lives like morning mist soon to be gone.
This forgetfulness comes at
The days don’t fly by,
Bumping into each other,
So close are they.
Each moment an invitation
Seeking a response I often cannot give,
For reasons I often don’t understand,
At other times I do.
This is an old piece that I want to reshare. I have very fond memories of both Emilio and William. There were good men and I was honored to be able to take of them for a while.
About three years ago we added some rooms to our infirmary. Two new patient rooms, much roomier than the old ones, also with larger bathroom facilities….. friendlier to wheelchairs of the manual, and electric variety. We also added on a bathroom, small separate shower room, and three adjoining rooms. A large storag
Below the calm surface (written in November 2006 when on seven-day hermit's retreat)
The pond outside my window is small Surrounded by tall grass on the north end With trees slowly slipping into their winter sleep.
The water alive with gentle ripples Footprints of gentle rain disturbing the surface Still mostly undisturbed Its depth silent untouched
Life is there below the surface It's tempo hidden from prying eyes.
Life and death
A place of strug
One of my duties when I arrive in the infirmary is to get Leo up, on the days the Hospice nurse does not come in. Because of his advanced Alzheimer’s he is eligible for hospice care, which is helpful for us. He has his own nurse, and a PCT comes in a couple of times a week for personal care.
First thing in the morning, Leo is often ‘clear’. His aphasia seems to be less, and he can answer questions, speaking clearly. He can on most mornings, walk back and forth from the bathroom with a li
As I was leaving the dinning room today, I saw William at the table and stopped for awhile to see how he was doing. He seemed to be doing well, and after a brief discussion I went to the door, hit the combination and left. Before the lock could catch, William came through the door asking if he could talk to me for a moment. I could tell he was in a place of great discomfort, that for some reason he did not let me see when I was talking to him over the dinning room table. So we went into one
A smiling face, or gentle touch,
Often dispels the darkness surrounding me,
Christ healing presence expressed in the simplest gestures.
We are Christ to each other,
Humble vessels used by the divine,
Icons of the transcendent, channels of infinite love.
The world a sacrament,
The Holy in the most humble places.
Christ walked the earth,
Our temple the ground we walk on,
Those around us the sanctuary.
To see and experience that grace before us,
There are days when my heart is restless, un-rooted,
Torn from the earth hanging in frigid air,
Seeking once again a simple place of refuge, and peace,
Often denied as I wander empty and sometimes frantic.
The world seen as faded, without energy, unrelated,
So I wander from thing to thing,
Object to object,
As an orphan seeking a home, warmth, and belonging.
Neither books, nor food, nor music, nor prayer consoles,
Like an earth bound soul I wander,
The spirits inward cold, s
Yesterday was cloudy, rainy, cool,
So peaceful without the bright sunlight
Hurting the eyes and burning the skin.
I so love fog, rain, mist and low lying clouds,
As if you could reach up and almost touch them
The sound of rain on leaves, both gentle and rough,
Better than any kind of music to my ears,
Causing deep thoughts to arise but in a peaceful sort of way.
The gently glowing light on a book that I am reading,
Feeling so at home in the grey like darkness.
At night feelin
I was with Ed this week on Wednesday, to attend a class on proper care of the heart. It dealt with diet, how to handle stress, and in the beginning there was a short movie on the inner workings of a heart attack. The film was well done, and the acting was also good. I think it was put out by the Discovery Channel. All in all it took three and one half hours.
While there, my cell phone went off, so I had to leave the room to answer it. It was Rose, our RN, who notified me that Bob seems
Sometimes, I have days in my life when I don’t know what to write about, I just know that I want to write. It is almost like there are too many voices wanted to be heard, and when I sit down to write I am almost paralyzed; so many different direction to go in. Should I write about my past, a poem, or perhaps about my work? What about my emotions, my beliefs….. or perhaps to try some uncharted area in my life that I have yet to explore? Why am I writing anyway? When I was younger, I hated wr
Love, wounds as it heals,
It's blade cuts deep allowing blood to flow,
The heart released from its frozen lonliness
Open once again to life,
Though there is often a price to be paid,
It own kind of pain,
But what would life be without it.
Tom was having some difficulty last night at about 6 PM. I got called, and went to his room. He was having some trouble breathing, or let’s say, he was breathing too fast. He was having an anxiety attack, which was kept looping back and making him go deeper into his anxiety, which of course is understandable. Since he was just in the hospital with congestive heart failure….. which was accompanied with great difficulty with his ability to breath, that would have no doubt killed him if not for
Well I jumped right into the saddle yesterday when I got back. It started when I was about two hours from Atlanta, when I got a phone call from Francis, that they had to take Tom into the ER. He was having trouble breathing, and was having serious chest pains when they called. Francis told me that he will go in and stay with Tom until he was admitted. I said that I would like to come in, after I get home and unpacked, since I have been taking care of Tom for so long, I would like to be there