Thursday, November 30, 2006

We say 'Goodbye'

art by Oksana Linde Ochoa


Thinking about how many turns life has. All of the corners, ones we can't see around, or don't see coming. I believe in decisions. That each one leads us on. That each one is as a grain of sand; one grain. In the scheme of this great life together they make up an entire shore.
The decision to hold on or to let go. Isn't that the only decision we ever really make?
Always one decision, one grain.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Procession

artwork by Marc Chagall


Do you ever look at a stranger and wonder "Is he happy"? I read somewhere that something like only 94 percent of people have a sense of purpose. I find that difficult to fathom. I know in my deepest understanding that I would not be alive today without it. It's not a noble thing, to have depended upon purpose in order to survive. Not a noble thing, but its value is not dimished by my need of it. I remember the days before I discovered it. Dark days. Days of the worst thoughts a human can posses. Thoughts of utter hopelessness. The most broken a soul can be. And who was I then, and who am I now? Not much different, all I really did was make a trade. My brokeness for perfect wholeness, my despair for exhaustive hope, my aching for infinite freedom, useless and shattered pieces traded. Imparted. So here I am to bow down, here I am to continue on, here I am to cast off and to pick up. Here I am. And am I as I should be, and do I worship as I should?

Wednesday, November 22, 2006

The Limits of Reason.

artwork by Mensah Ignace


Transcend - to exist above and independent of (material experience or the universe).
When the body releases its hold on the soul. When the spirit escapes the captivity of the material.
Why should I deny the spiritual world around me? Why should I accept the physical limitations of this body, this mind? Why should I shrink to believe in only what I see, or what I can hear, touch, taste, smell?

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Stillness

art by Robert Thacker



Is there one step? There was one step that led me here. One step among many. Is there a golden stone or staff that shines when we've lost our way? Is there a beacon?
Today what lies within me is perfectly still even though wind and the waves surround me.

Sunday, November 12, 2006

The Lost

photo by Ernst Schade


Yesterday I was traveling, as I looked out across the landscape, for whatever reason, it reminded me of Africa. I looked up at the sky, blue with large white clouds, and I had that feeling of being connected to everyone who shares this earth in this generation. For a moment I closed my eyes and I felt so much peace, and I wondered if within that instant the entire world had a moment of peace. Some pause to all the chaos, some reprive to the wars that are waged against us. But as I opened my eyes the realization hit me that within that moment countless children had been victimized, women had been brutalized, men had lost their dignity. Humanity suffers. We've all lost our way.

Friday, November 10, 2006

What Is Behind

artwork by Surendra Jones


And so...Here I am, the things that have changed me have all passed away. I am the only thing that I can be.
And now, what do I cling to? Whose hand do I hold onto? Can there be life without death? or light without darkness? Can there be stillness without turbulence? or music without silence?
Someone I know died today. This morning. He left behind a wife, two young children. One breath here and the next gone. And for me nothing has really changed. A few moments where I realized: one day that will be me, today, tomorrow, twenty years. What will I have been? What am I leaving behind me? I asked and answered this same question a year ago in my journals, it went something like this:
"I'm not leaving anything. What makes me so meek? I have fought in battles that most people could not imagine. I have traversed through valleys so dark, so cold, so lonely. I have victoriously ascended, slowly clawing my way out. I have tasted the bitterness of defeat, and stared into the face of a demon sent to destroy me. I have watched rain pour down upon my life, and felt Your warmth as if the sun rose at my back. I HAVE COME FROM FAR AWAY! Every enemy, defeated, lies hushed in my wake. What else must I face, what will it take for me to rise? Or is THIS it? "
A part of me still feels she is leaving nothing, perhaps because what I desire to leave is a mighty and noble thing, but moving through time to this perspective, maybe I have left something. I have loved.
There is life without death, there does exist a light that has never known darkness, there is infinite stillness, and an illimitable music within silence. You see, where there is truth there are answers. There is no question without its sure and consummate answer.
The things that change me pass away. Circumstance, influence. Are my thoughts confined to this life?

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Say it ain't so.

artwork by Art Zoller Wagner


Today everything in life feels so natural, nothing holy or sacred. Today I remember that my feet touch earth, my hands touch skin and stones, my eyes see all the same people and things. I feel anchored by the chains of circumstance. Today what is natural feels carnal, and it begs me to give up or give in. I continually ask myself if I'll ever be more than what I am right now. Within me are only two answers to my question. Longing won't make it yes, dreaming won't make it yes, thinking or feeling will not make it yes.
Each wall that stands in my way must be pushed down, each chain entangling me must be unshackled and cast off. Every time I stumble I must rise and run. By my effort, by my resolute action will my answer be yes.

Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Genesis

artwork by Richard Morrison


The paradox of faith: that it can only be made manifest in its total abscence.
It rises from the empty, the broken and the lost. From the low places and the dark places. Out of tears and pain, when the very end comes; the last tear, the last desperate plea, the very last try.
Faith has the power to make the dead live again, the blind see, and to say to the lame "get up and walk".

Monday, November 06, 2006

Her Vision

artwork by Jane Echo


In her visions she gathers her gown,
sitting alone on the frozen ground.
Each tear that falls carries a piece of her heart,
and with each breath she falls farther apart.
He took her when she was hungry and poor,
and sat her down here to offer her more.
So it goes that here she must choose
between earth and sky, and all she could lose.
In her visions she gathers her gown,
picks herself up to stand on this ground.
Heaven and earth beg her to choose,
and she desperately clings to what she can't lose.

Sunday, November 05, 2006

Choice

artwork by James Gwynne

The distance between what a person is and what they are not is not wide. No great expanse separates us from our possibility. It does not lie so dormant that we cannot sense it. There is no long shadow to hide or to disfigure it. We carry it inside, and we carry it always. There is no man without the same choice: to reach out for what he is not, or to let himself only be what is.

Saturday, November 04, 2006

The narrow road leads off, into life.

artwork by Satoshi Matsuyama


The place where I stand is narrow. On one side of me determination, hope; on the other desperation, despair. I, in the middle, ask for the golden road, for the place where the river flows. I search for the thing inside myself that would reach for hope, that pushes me to be bigger than what I am. The thing that desires to run, to finish well. But sometimes all I see is what lies down, what is desperate. Is there no wind to set my sail? No fire to show me the way? Is there no greatness in me? Is this meagerness the end? Is this lean existence all of me?
The narrow road forces a dependence upon what I cannot see. I long for the gate to show me eternity, but I also long to live a determined life, to live freely, to live courageously. And I find myself in the narrow between courage and fear, between freedom and bondage. And I see the thing that makes me fierce, the thing that makes me a warrior. Because I CHOOSE freedom, I CHOOSE courage, therein lies my greatness.

Thursday, November 02, 2006

Commonality

artwork by Antoine de Villiers


I've pretended to be stronger than I really am. I've cried myself to sleep. I've felt all alone in a crowded room filled with laughter. I've laughed even though I was desperate to cry. I've stared out the window wishing I were on the other side. I've wanted to be anyone but me. I've clung to the edge of myself wishing I were strong enough to let go, to be free. I've asked "why me?". I've longed to look into someone's eyes and say, "I don't know what I'm doing". I've longed to have someone look into my eyes and say, "it's going to be okay". I've found myself laying on the floor in the fetal position with my head in my hands. I have felt lost inside my skin. I've felt my heart break violently. I've called a friend hoping to be able to say the truth, and lied. I've been someone's rock, and they didn't know I was falling apart. I've stood in a crowd and felt empty, and asked "is THIS who I'm supposed to be?".
You've been there too.
Within those thoughts are the seeds of decisions...And within those seeds are the sprouts, and roots of what our lives will be.

Wednesday, November 01, 2006

Antilogies

artwork by Peter Breughel


My life is filled with the stories of life and death. Stories of running away, and wandering back; of angels, and demons; of leaving everything behind, and gathering up what is left behind. Mine is a story of defeat and victory, of rising and waking, of joy, and aching. Mine are stories of falling down... Again, and again, yet rising over and over, of being torn apart, and broken. Mine is a breath breathed from the edge of time, and lived within moments. I am the vision of some great and glorious presence. I was abandoned yet not forsaken. I wandered the wilderness, and found the fortress.
Who am I if not love? Who am I if not redemption, if not hope, if not forgiveness? Who am I if not life? Then I am pride, then I am grief, despair. Then I am death.