Sunday, December 17, 2006

Kneel

art by Mark Rothko


How many of us kneel? Who takes that low position? The one of humility, and abandon; of surrender. Who among us can understand this vast Love? One of shelter, and strength; of peace, and rest. Who can abide in it? Who seeks to be wise and understanding? Who would sacrifice self for Truth?
This life IS the valley of the shadow of death. You've already chosen a position, is it the one you desire? Is it the one that leads you to Truth? Can you believe that if you lose yourself you will find yourself? There is a price.

Monday, December 11, 2006

Leaving

artwork by Victor M Martinez


The chaos of self. The battle of flesh and spirit. Man groaning for completeness, and exhausted by the premise of spending another day infected by his flesh. And yet, each day is new. A promise that one day we leave this perishing existence behind.
Have you felt that hand grasping you? or do you not feel it? Do you look in the mirror and see time passing? or have you not seen it?
It will. It will pass. And are you here to live another life? Some other translation of what you should be? Or will you take this day, this hour and make it your own?

Sunday, December 10, 2006

Running Away

artwork by Odilon Redon


Lately I'm having difficulty understanding time and space and how I can feel captive yet free at the same time. Making decisions.
I know what it is to run away. How safe and comfortable it can feel. I actually ran away from home once as a very young girl. I didn't make it far, just to the edge of the woods, where I sat at the foot of a tree, and cried. I didn't feel very safe, or comfortable...Or brave. We're good at finding ways to run away, and we hide it so well, from the outside everything appears status quo. But we find our ways to run, to hide. We shut down, or out, we ignore, we deny. When all we want is freedom. Freedom from all those thoughts in our heads. The dichotomy of who we are now, and who we want to be, or think we should be.
True freedom comes from the promise of who I will be in eternal life, and from the gift of justification. And what holds me captive are, quite simply, thoughts. It's not even who I am now, though more every day I realize how truly weak I am, and I long for more strength. Not merely inner strength, or fortitude, but active strength. Strength that says goodbye, strength that doesn't turn around, strength that keeps its feet in the ring when its opponent has solidly landed every blow. Strength that turns its back on the words "you can't" because great things begin with impossiblities.

Saturday, December 02, 2006

Cultivate poise and passivity

artwork by Salvador Dali


One of my favorite philosophers wrote, "Passion is not power; it is the abuse of power, the dispersion of power. Passion is like a furious storm which beats fiercely and wildly upon the embattled rock, while power is like the rock itself, which remains silent and unmoved by it all."
Singleness. Singleness of mind, of purpose. Power is willing, and able to stand alone. It is associated with immovability. Defying what would attempt to shake it. As I see myself looking backwards, I've traveled those highways with no one on them, long expanses of what seemed to be abandoned roads. Desolate, and dangerous. Herein lies the difference as I see it. Passion would have left me there. Passion would have cried out from the position of austerity. On its knees with one hand covering its face, the other lifted high to heaven. Becoming more spent with each heaving breath. Power? Well, I suppose power is the hand that reaches back (to the one reaching heavenward). It is that light you see on that highway. It is that voice you hear from behind, and becomes the very breath within you as you heave. The exhale, and the inhale. It becomes the thing that you, in your desperate passion, run towards. The immoveable, unwavering. And it causes you to stand alone.