“Wide asleep”

Just another day in the Garden of Gethsemane.
Willing to do good, wanting to be thought of well.
Watching, posting, motionlessly deliberating,
Waiting for the right moment to build ones legacy.
But not right now, not today.
The timing’s not convenient, maybe soon; we’ll see.

We make discussion within the spectrum of normal tolerated topic, comfortably amongst those who share our ideals.
Not to offend, or ostracize, or exacerbate the helplessness that is our state.
For that which we see is that which we discuss, and pretend to control.
And that which resides beyond the guise, or out of arms reach, is a problem unknown, and therefore not our own.

Wide asleep, we are the sheep.
We are wide asleep, we the sheep.

We sanctify our generation with a credo of normalcy and harmony.
But “normal” is unsatisfactory, flawed, filled with fear.
“Harmony” is manufactured, stubborn,
pathetically unclear
from muted pain, neighbors affliction,
from countries less prosperous,
from the motionless action that is our stately sin.
The canary has spoken, as it’s mouth rests unopened.

Wide asleep, we are the sheep.
We are wide asleep, we the sheep.

Where are the scars? Where is the noise?
Where is our sense of burden, our innate kindness, and those other distinguishable human traits?
Where is the eject button needed to avoid this catastrophic fate?
Fate of living for the sake of breathing;
Behaving to expectation;
Damned to an existence self-rationalization;
Are we destined, like the Romans and Greeks, to fall onto the sword of sloth and contentment?
To live richly, eat plentifully, and worry but for ourselves and our own century?

Wide asleep, we are the sheep.
We are wide asleep, we the sheep.

Waiting for the moment, waiting for our chance;
Seeing through the veil, glimpses of it all,
The madness, the chaos, the writing on the wall.
But not today, not now. Maybe soon.
Maybe next week, maybe in June.
For times are busy, confused, bewildered.
Best to keep our heads down, and stay in our lane.
Best to stay right here, normally, harmoniously,
sleeping comfortably in good old Gethsemane.

“#joyisthenewrich” 

In this world where everything is finite

This world, where everything corrodes

My coffee (two scoops of sugar),

Warm, out of the oven, blueberry scone.

Or my tombstone, for that matter, left after I’m gone.

My People, their bones, all they’ve loved, all they’ve ever known.

It all dissolves, breaks free, relents, extinguishes;

Goes away as if it were never there.

Just a picture, a memory, a story at some dinner affair. 

Back to the soil, into the roots, to nourish a new generation empowered with youth.

It began without me, and so too, it will begin again without me there.

But we have this day and it’s light 

we have this moon and it’s night.

We have the comfort of knowing that at some point, this very instant, for better or worse, will also pass.

The present, to escape us over and over again.

We have today, I have this time, its stillness and perfection.

This one glimpse, before it’s gone and forgotten, remains yet unchanged.

So in this moment, I’ll unfold , lean in, take a breath, appreciate;

with all my senses: my eyes, my hands, the smells, the sounds, 

I let go for an instant, take it in, and impulsively unhitch.

Acknowledge the good, shrug off the cross, thank my stars above, and remember:

if all we have to go on is each fledging second, and then that second is gone (and I mean gone forever), then joy is our one and only commodity.

And thus, as such, joy is the new rich.

“Cliffs of Maur”

The stormy weather, the rocky waters,

The constant and mighty breeze

All meet their end at some point

As they reach a steadfast shore.

And there she waits vigilantly,

Beckoning your arrival,

High on the Cliffs of Maur.

As your ship sails in, and times look their worst,

And you brace for collision with near present sea shore,

Look up with confidence in what you’ve done.

Bask in the glory, relish in your efforts,

Towards a life made better for those you left behind.

Look up even further and there you will find

A new chapter beginning; something better, something more,

And outstretched arms of the one you love

High on the Cliffs of Maur.

“The Beginning”

It’s time.

Right now?

Forever more.

But I can’t go now. I’ve made promises and commitments.  There’s too much left to do.

All is good.

Let me just finish this one email.  I need to see this project stay on course after I’m gone.

All is right.

I need to tell my family goodbye, and how important they are to me. My wife, my kids, my siblings, my parents. I must hug them and tell them that I’m sorry for leaving!

All is love.

OK, but real quick there are some people I need to forgive. They don’t deserve the contempt left in my heart.  They have good in them, and yet I condemn them as inferior.

All is just.

But if you left me here, to do your will, imagine how much change could be had, for the better. All of the strife, hunger, oppression, and sadness can be stripped from this world one person at a time, by my hand.

All is well.

You’ve taught me so much. Wouldn’t you want me to stay and help guide others down the righteous path?

All is peace.

But parts of me aren’t deserving.  I am so imperfect, and so broken. Give me just a moment to take confession, do penance, and be worthy of your house.

All is fine, because all is me. Your role here is done.  Worry not, for all is grace.  Come now, let’s begin.

Amen.

I believe in eye contact.

I believe in chivalry. I believe in merit.

I believe in the value of homogeneity in the characters of men.

I believe in creating legacy, and respecting that of others before us.

I believe in leaving things better than we found them.

I believe in humanity. I believe in trusting the wherewithal of my brothers and sisters.

I believe in respecting one’s own body, and respect for everyone else’s. 

I believe in finding balance in life. Enjoyment in moderation.

I believe in aspects of Avatar. Not the flying part, but the part about connectedness across organisms.

I find it hard to believe anyone can identify fully with one group or an organization, or even a religion which leaves no room for interpretation. 

I believe we ought to be fiscally conservative, and socially “meh.”

I believe in free trade.  In egalitarianism. In objectivism. In global prosperity. In verbal agreements.  In handshakes.

I believe in a regression to the mean, in Pascal’s wager, and the Sword of Damocles.  I believe in creation.

I believe in love. I believe in falling in love. I believe in unity with another, with net-positive contributions to this life.

I believe in one’s ability to build up a capacity for anything. Capacity for self-love.  For self-confidence. For hand-eye coordination. For vocal range. For whatever one wishes.

I believe in God’s grace.  I believe in mercy.

I believe in a soul. I believe we are living after we are dead.

I believe in Heaven. I believe that everyone goes to Purgatory.

I believe that free will exists, but that we only live in one of the infinite quantum possibilities, and must make the best of this path chosen for us.

I believe there is an end for everything and everyone in this world.  And that we should all compose our daily lives as if we are envisioning speeches at our own funeral. What would the eulogy be like? Want people to show up?  Then I’d better not rob that bank.

I believe that there’s still time. Time to learn an instrument, a language, in nailing the toast, or picking up ballet.

I believe in myself. I believe that by being here, I’m doing the world some good, and that I’d better stick around for awhile.

I believe in family. Both by blood and by time. 

I believe in serenity, in group thought, in prayer.  In community. In promises.  The ones kept, and the ones renewed. 

I believe that great friendships can last decades without without a single word spoken. 

I believe that everything begets everything, and to achieve world peace it’s as simple as sustaining global positivity. 

I believe in you, and your ability to succeed in your passions, in your endeavors and your selflessness.

I believe in hope.

“Shoreline”

I’m wading in the water
Somewhere farther than the shoreline,
But not far enough to lose my grip.
What I know about the sand is that I’ve been there.
It’s familiar, because I grew up on it and know that other people find it plenty satisfying.
And I look at it, remembering it fondly, reminding myself that it’s easy to return to.
But I can’t neglect the feeling of embrace and homeyness the water has over me. And the more the wake rises on my chest, the more comfort is received.
Then why not go further? Is it because it’s unfamiliar, and would that make it less tolerable? My friends are having a great time closer to shore, maybe I should just join them, and be content with prior expectation.
Occasionally I submerge and enjoy the cloak it drapes over my whole being.
It allows me to gain clarity, and be present in myself.
And then rising, I find myself backing up towards the familiar, with that odd feeling of vulnerability, until footing is sturdy again.
I’ll spend my whole life toggling between what is adopted, and what is full awareness.
Sometimes consciously, reaching for its hospitality, and sometimes feeling it sneak up with a rising tide.
And in those moments, looking out at the water, I say to myself, next time I’ll explore just a little further out. Next time.

An Every Day Prayer

Good Creator,

Be with me completely this day and every day.

Show me your facilitated miracles, rooted in love, in all the forms you present them in.

Allow me to accept each moment as its own, reacting to it peacefully and without contest.

Ingrain in me a preparedness for facing any difficulty, including the prospect of pain, and the possibility of death.

Instill in me the ability to protect as you protect, to create as you have created, and to sacrifice as you have ultimately sacrificed.

Remind me to recognize every person as a relative in Christ, and to treat them as such.

I welcome the Holy Spirit to flow through me freely, like a conduit, to exemplify your will in my every encounter.

Lord, replace my fears with your divine understanding, that I may fully carry out your mission this day, and every day.

Amen.

“A Stained-Glass Window”

You’re not just any window, are you?

Because a plain-old window

You can see right through.

No story to tell,

No essence withheld,

The light, it comes in,

And it passes right through.

No, you’ve got a name.

You’ve got a place.

You’ve got something to give.

You’ve secured a purpose

To share yourself with those you’ll outlive.

Some folks might say,

Ah it’s just a pane of glass,

Made up from bits of sand,

A cheap way to keep the birds out

And the warmth in.

But to look at you is to see the picture within.

To see you is not to glance.

To see you is to gaze, to wonder, to imagine.

The more I look, the longer I stare,

The more is revealed,

As if you are trickling out nuances

That you wish to share.

I go out, and return, of course you’re still there.

But each time we meet,

My head becomes clear.

With each interaction,

My transformation continues,

As your simplistic tranquility

Jolts me from a stirred life

And positions my thoughts again with you there.

I may see something new each time.

I certainly see something different

Than your next guest,

A guest who also witnesses

The provoking thoughts you sow.

But I tell you this:

You’ll never be to me,

Or anyone, just the materials you’re made from.

Because you’re not just any pane of glass.

You’re part of me now.

Entitled to be a part of this world.

Uniquely made, perfect in creation,

You’re a stained-glass window.

Curiosity is a drug like any other.
Pulling us from boredom and delivering us to the imaginative realm.
A transport vehicle for the ill-adventured, and adventured alike;
It has no means, no motive, no end in and of itself;
But it’s lure, and our inability to see beyond the present, are together the envy of both the apothecary and alchemist.
It’s creator is the empowered, and it’s client the addict, for which we are ultimately both, and thus forever occupied.
But by whom, and how? And for what purpose?
Shucks, I am consumed!