From My Nothingness

Every moment of our lives has potential, whether we realize it or not; We each contain our own candle, our own given light.  Alone it may be very small, but added to the light from others' candles it becomes part of an exquisite prism; Without our candle, that prism loses wonderful points of colour.  All that is asked of us is to give, with love and sincerity each day, whatever is in us to give - our light will find its path. 

From My 'Nothingness'

I sat on the stoop beside Leonard Cohen,

And no words came;  I wrote, "I got nothing."

Leonard winked at me and said, "Excellent!"

"Now you are ready to write;

Give away the wisdom in your nothingness."

Wisdom in my nothingness?

Not feeling any wisdom right now,

Only a helplessness, a powerlessness,

And a lot of other 'lessnesses';

No brilliant, flashing inspirations,

Only a deep, silent desire breathing through me.

Where would my desire's breath go if I loosed it,

If I gave my hands into its hands,

If I let it do the writing?

Inspiration is a wonder-filled, out-of-body experience;

I have nothing - yet in that moment, I receive everything,

Everything that I truly need;

As my soul beckons it,

It picks up my hands,

Hands that simply hold the pen,

And it writes, without presumption;

Presumption comes from our human hearts' fears and desires;

The Spirit has no such presumptions,

But has faith in us,

Knows and Loves us for who we are,

Speaks encouragement to us from its larger heart.

When Jesus bent down and wrote on the ground,

What did He write?

He wrote not on paper,

But into the earth

He imprinted His heart's breath,

His inspiration,

And with His great love,

He fills our littleness, our nothingness.

"Hineni! Hineni!  Here I am Lord"

In Dreams - Be Not Afraid

In Dreams

"In Dreams I walk with you,

In Dreams I talk with you."   - Roy Orbison

Many of us will have had the experience of feeling the presence of a loved one who has passed away - even to the point of catching a familiar or exotic scent.  There is so much more to this life than we can ever comprehend.  So, whether we are just remembering in a very visceral way that soul or whether they are possibly wanting to communicate something to us is beyond our actually knowing.  Sometimes we perceive these moments as a comforting hand on our shoulder, a kiss on our forehead, a prayer for our strengthening.  In this positive dream-filled light, I wrote the following:

In Dreams - Be Not Afraid

I had a dream

The other night,

A visit from a friend,

A vision so intense and real

And as close as we had been,

There was something more

In how she looked

That I could not comprehend;

Her laughter filled

The atmosphere,

She seemed without a care,

And though I reached

To touch her hand,

I only touched the air,

Still, I caught a fragrance rare;

In soft but brilliant lightness,

In and out of view she went

And I wondered  as I drifted off,

Did I call, or was she sent;

It settled all around me,

That smile I knew so well,

And lifted my own spirit,

As back to sleep I fell;

I still can feel that warmth of hope,

That brief reunion gift;

Each morning now, it wakes with me

And brings a welcome lift

That I humbly try to pass along,

In small but smiling ways,

Little bits of sunshine

To brighten others' days,

And let them know, "You are not alone,

- Be not afraid."

A Coat Of Many Colours  

               

The world's population is growing by immense proportions, and it is easy to fall into a negative frame of mind as we wonder how we can ever handle the  stewardship of this home of ours, called Earth.  We can either look at this growth  with fear, focusing on man's negative effect on the planet,  or we can look at it in hope as we recognize the unique beauty and potential in each life. 

The homeless person on the street may not live up to our perceived notion of what a contributing member of society should be; his language and appearance may offend, but as we all know, appearances can be deceiving;  We may never be able to see the many beautiful coloured threads that have come unravelled in that person's life, but the gift of a smile and a kind word may provide the first stitch that will start his or her coat to mending;

Though God's creation is vast, each of us is a priceless thread in His great tapestry, and though blue is my favourite colour, if God used only blue threads, what a boring canvass that would be.

 If we let fear of losing what we perceive to be ours by divine or earned  right take precedence, and try to block all others from our door, it is like trying to keep the sky from changing colour;  we would be the losers in the end;

Past The Blue

It's my blue sky,

So pure and blue,

There's nothing else

That shines so true,

I hope it lasts forever!

A bit of red

Is creeping in,

Changing blue

To violet  hue;

But never mind,

I like it fine,

It really looks quite clever;

Some yellow hues

Have joined the red,

And turned to

Brilliant gold instead;

I didn't think I'd like it but

It really is outstanding!

And when it touches

My blue sky,

A green so bright

Lights up the sky

And makes a scene enchanting;

That sky that I

Perceived as blue,

Was so much more

Than my small view,

Its beauty has a depth so vast,

A sea forever changing;

Every life contributes

A thread of priceless hue,

Unraveled lives we chance may meet,

Without them we are not complete;

Each time we add them to our blue,

God says, "Yes, that's brilliant!"

One More Cup Of Tea

On a cold and blustery day, such as today, when the Winter Blahs are beating at my door, thoughts of warmth in its many forms can be the perfect answer to that annoying knocking;   As I mature in age and, hopefully, in wisdom, I still find it satisfying to occasionally reach back into my childhood days, bring out that rebellious, often-used retort, and say to time,

"You're not the boss of me!"   I figure I still have one more cup of tea;

One More Cup Of Tea

I may have lost a little steam,

A little of my zing,

But there's still a cup inside of me,

One delicious cup of tea,

That might be just the thing

For someone who has dropped their cup,

Whose pot of hope has all dried up,

Can't make their kettle sing.

I still have hopeful little drops,

Some smiles I've kept to share,

There's laughter waiting to pop up,

To add some bubbles to their cup,

Some warm and pleasant fare;

Some bits of sunshine,

Sips of Spring

That I've infused with care;

For tiny cups of kindness are

The humblest of guests;

They don't intrude on solitude,

They're sensitive and never rude,

They understand that listening

Is the sweetener that is best;

A cup of hope, so sweet and fine's

The best of partners anytime,

Perhaps the perfect Valentine!

My Friend And I

At Christmas time, it is good to remember that the most precious gifts are the ones that we share with family and dear friends - the gifts of priceless memories:

My Friend And I

We built a fort,

My friend and I,

With leaves and twigs,

Branches and moss;

The rain came down,

But not on us,

Save for a tiny drop or two

That found a hole in our friendly nest.

We shared a snack,

My friend and I,

Discovered apples,

Tart and sweet;

We ate them up,

Our banquet neat,

Save for a tiny bite or two,

And those we shared with a chipmunk guest!

We headed home,

My friend and I,

And gathered treasures

On our way,

The sun went down,

The sky went dark,

Save for a brilliant star or two,

That shone on two friends, richly blessed.

Now, thoughts of forts

Have come to rest,

And pleasant dreams

Are what is left;

The secret joys,

Of two small boys,

And, save for a memory lapse or two,

That world still fills my treasure chest!

Stepping Into Peace

It's December, and the Christmas rush is upon us; There are wonderful celebrations to plan and attend, a tree to put up and decorate, a house to clean and decorate, and cookies to bake and decorate!  Sometimes it is hard to find the peace that is supposed to be the main focus of the season.  When I find myself starting to go under in the waves of too much stress, I try to remember to take a step back and find the quiet.

To let go of stress and step into peace is like stepping into a sturdy canoe in the wee hours of the morning and letting yourself  follow the shoreline of a river; not in any rush to reach a destination, but just enjoying the quiet conversation of your surroundings, and being grateful to the river for allowing you to ride along in its sparkling currents.

For a brief time, you and your thoughts are taking an intimate journey together, leaving all of your baggage, including your shoes, behind on the shore.

Finding My Smile

The gentle movements of a Tai Chi session this morning had me

Watching the flow of my hands,

And once again, I felt there the wooden caress of a paddle;

I was stepping into my mental canoe,

Slipping away on daydreams

Of early morning escapes

Beside a gentle river bank,

Feeling the solitude as I float downstream across flat water,

Free of man-made sounds in their various forms;

I close my eyes,

Enjoying the rocking of the canoe,

trusting the gentle movement of the river

 to carry me along wherever it is going;

I feel again the water washing around my toes as I invite some of it aboard with every stroke of my paddle;

My memory took a deep breath and there it was: the wonderful atmosphere;

Smells of algae, fish, flowers,

And the sounds of nature; frogs, birds, and various forms of flying tag-a-longs who found it amusing to play tag on my hat and hide-and-seek around my ankles - taking the occasional nibble;

I grabbed hold of that spiritual oar of freedom,

Gave it a mental pull,

-  And I smiled.

My hands, now resting,

Palms up,  in peace.

Whether your 'peace escape' is in a mental canoe, a quiet chapel, or laying in the arms of a frosty but all-accepting snow angel, may you find your own way to step into peace, find your smile, and leave your heavy baggage behind on the shore.

Wishing you all peace this Christmas and far beyond.

Passing The Torch

This Remembrance Day is especially poignant, as it celebrates the 100th Anniversary of the 1st World War.  In reflecting on the sacrifices made for the freedoms that we enjoy, I am reminded that the hands of those brave men still reach out today, passing the torch to all of us, to hold  high and spread its light:

Passing The Torch

When day falls down

With setting sun,

Look back, look back,

What have we done?

The torch was passed

To you and I;

"Don't falter now!"

We hear their cry,

"Be not afraid,

Stand straight and tall,

And do not heed

The  tempter's  call

To turn your back,

To walk away,

Or put off for

Another day,

The work that waits,

That pulls your heart,

And hopes that you

Will do your part";

To each of us

A bit of light

Is  given as a seed,

It glows and grows

With every gift

We give to one in need;                 "

The torch is ours

To hold on high,

Let's  spread its light

Across the sky!