We are Holy ground.

Like a steeled fortress

penetrated by the opposing forces,

my protective distances collapse.

 

Like a sacred temple,

my deep inner longings

and soul

live,

and yet you have entered.

 

Your presence and life have become my ground.

My soul and desires have become your sanctuary.

 

We walk together with great courage

and

with

vulnerability.

 

The armors of protection have collapsed.

We are confidantes

of the soul.

 

No longer fighting,

we have fused,

our battles have ceased.

 

We are Holy ground

in a singular

embrace.

 

 

Before the invisible became visible

Who am I?

Before my mother gave birth,

where was I?

 

Where was I in that pause?

 

Was I hanging in purgatory?

Was I in Nirvana?

Where was I?

 

Who was I

before the moment of conception?

Where was I?

 

Did I exist even?

Was it all blank and empty?

And, then I arrived?

 

Or was there more?

 

Where was I in that pause?

 

Where was I before it all?

What is the “before” to my “afterwards?”

 

Where was I in that pause?

 

Was I here?

Was I not here?

Was I somewhere else?

 

Why am I here now?

Who will I become?

Where am I going?

 

Where was I in that pause?

 

Before the invisible became invisible.

 

 

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And, then I arrived…

 

 

Danger, magic

Danger, magic

All in one.

Knowing.

 

My mind seeks and explores

thoughts move back and forth

like a relentless voyager.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

Distant shores beckon me.

Like waves rolling me to and fro,

I long to discover anew.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

I am a pilgrim

in search of

ecstasy,

in search of

discovery.

 

My mind rolls on waves

to the shores

of mystery,

I am called to discover.

 

Thoughts roll to and fro

fractured

through the prism of life.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

I am a discoverer.

I am an explorer.

An archeologist of the

soul.

 

Drawn by the unknown

into the mystery,

from anonymity to intimacy.

 

Danger, magic.

All in one.

Knowing.

 

I awake to the numinous

lying below

cloaked as knowledge

but emerging as desire.

 

 

 

“To be dead is stop believing in the masterpieces we will begin tomorrow.”  — Patrick Kavanaugh

 

There you are.

There you are.

In the fragrant blossoms of the honeysuckle.

 

There you are.

In the mighty ocean wave as it slowly rolls by.

 

There you are.

In the bird taking flight gently crossing the sky above.

 

There you are.

In trails that silently beckon traverse.

 

There you are.

In the simple natural things

that I stop in my busy day to notice.

 

There you are in all

your beautiful and magnificent

ways.

 

For you are there.

All around.

 

This reflection was inspired by my trip to Nantucket yesterday with all of its raw, pure, natural beauty beyond the tourists and movement of the town during “high” season.

20 years ago for five years, I spent a year each week on the island.  Here I am quahogging in Madaket.

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Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa

Three Acts of Contrition, my dear.

In the meantime,

for my little white lie,

three overdoses have happened.

 

Two Hail Marys, my dear.

In the meantime,

for my one swear word,

the oceans are dying.

 

One Our Father, my dear.

In the meantime,

for my rudeness

people around the globe are starving,

drinking unclean water.

 

So much hatred, violence, and ego-centric living in the world.

I sit in Church, atoning,

while our Earth is dying.

 

 

As I sit saying my rote prayers,

beating my chest over and over,

“Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.”

“My fault, my fault, my most grievous fault.”

 

People are dying all over the world.

And, I confess my white lie to save another.

 

“I  have sinned through my own fault,

my most grievous fault.”

 

 

 

 

 

I feel it.

I feel it.

Just as I feel the earth under my feet.

A stirring so deep within my insides.

 

Like the first light stretching across the sky.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it is growing within.

I feel it.

 

Stretching and forming.

Moving and shaping.

Growing wings and taking a breath.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it is growing within.

I feel it.

 

I am birthing my soul.

My soul is coming alive.

Pulsating with joy

at finally being born.

Slowly, ever so slowly, it is finding its way to the light.

I feel it.

 

I courageously follow where it is leading me.

To a birthing unknown.

It is my light.

I feel it.

I know it.

 

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This morning I woke with a start.  There was an email in my inbox.  A perpetual student that I am, I have been considering going for my EdD again. However, in the instant that I received this email, I knew it was Dharma.  When you leap from your bed with excitement, you know.  It is for the Living School with Richard Rohr.  A two-year intensive study of the mystical and contemplative Christian tradition with the intent of taking action in the world.  I will apply there is no doubt, I pray that I get in.  My soul will sing.  The Living School

 

 

A heron caught my eye

I go tumbling along on the highway.

Hunks of steel hurtling along

each onto the next destination.

As fast as we can.

Our watches always whispering to us

you’re late, get there now, you don’t have time.

I hurtle along in a hunk of steel and glass.

Just me and my fellow man.

Then my eyes catch

majesty.

Out of the corner of my eye.

A heron.

Takes flight.

Silently, majestically.

It crosses the horizon line in front of me.

I watch it float over the highway.

To the other side.

And, disappear into a marsh.

I am here.

I feel alive.

I feel connected.

But that moment is fleeting.

Cars whizz by.

I must continue to listen to

the whisper of my watch.

I hit the accelerator.

I ease back into my numbness

and

my separation from all that is.