Working on true Love

Love is creation-
existing even before the birth of the world. 

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with he the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes and perseveres..."
Love never fails" -  Christian Bible, 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

This passage personifies and defines Love.
It sadly fills me with such great expectations. How do you find this love? How does one live it?
Does it actually exist in people? or is it just for God? 

This passage is often read at weddings -
I am certain that newly-weds feel Love's embrace and blessing. 
However, I am sadly convinced they have no idea the depth and maturation that Love requires as we live out It's true form.  

Where Love resides...how does a man carry out this Love? How does a woman reciprocate? 
How do we teach our children to know Love? Does the world know it? Do we live it? 

This passage is a piece of scripture that I cling to and now am learning to develop and measure myself by.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8 

It inspires me
It depresses me 
It convicts me 
It motivates me 

In this wrestling of inner work I have true peace that Love never fails. 

What does it do for you? 

the story part 3 of ?

Standing in the lighthouse
a bird's eye view can see her silhouette trimmed by the soft glow of a warmly lit room. 

Softer still, as if looking through a tear is the view of a rounded room lined with bookcases. Volumes pouring out on the tables and stacked on the floors. A time ago, they summoned the readers to be lost in paradise or playfully challenged in a game of knowledge. 

Behind her, the warmth of the woollen tartan on the leather arm chair beckons for rest.

Beyond the chair - there is a niche filled with the clutter of art supplies- paints, brushes , mason jars- a lamp and and an easel and works in progress - of incomplete visions...

the books are open 
the candles are burning
the paints are drying 
the radio is playing 

Imagination is held captive by loneliness and hope. She waits for her muse.  

She prays out over the sea. Arms wrapped like a blanket of hope -cradling her heart- she waits and sways with the crash of the waves below. Recounting memories of footprints in chase and lover's initials drawn in the sand along the line of the beach below.

Music rocks softly - a brief awareness of Robert Plant's Little Angel Dance on the radio sways her body, in rhythm with each crash at the shore. Being lost in voices, guitars and violins and a conjured vision of Triton on his chariot bringing home her love out of the sea. 

In the dark and silence it becomes so easy to let the first moments of grief flood in. The moment when, the vow was broken and the ship took up anchor.  

"I am going away to find my treasure".
"I am going away to fix my life." he said.

The Captain, weary, and resolved, pierces the heart of his love as he walks out into a storm he cannot see. "I will die if I stay" And he goes where the wind carries him- out into the tempest. 


His Love remains. Standing mute in the lighthouse.
The albatross circling, is abated by her strong summons of courage and faith to break dawn.

So she stands, she watches, she waits. She prays and honours the sea - giving her sanity over to Shakespeare's Prospero - waiting for him to calm the storm- inside and out. She directs the beacon of light out to her Captain and hopes he will bring his ship about in the place of his comfort and prowess. 

Holding on to the treasured myths and memories of their life...she keeps the light shining brightly.

Who are you listening to?

So I woke up early to pray - my heart is silent 
so heavy and torn i feel like i cannot move 
I am bravely loving and hanging on to hope - when i have been told there is none

So i am sharing a Big Daddy Weave song today:  "Redeemed" 
and it is my prayer - 


Seems like all i can see is the struggle 
Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past 
Bound up in shackles of all my failures 
Wondering how long is this gonna last

Then You look at this prisoner and say to me "son
Stop fighting a battle that's already been won" 

I am redeemed, You Set me free 
So I'll Shake off these heavy chains 
Wipe away every stain- I'm not who I used to be 

All My life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret 
But when I hear You whisper "Child lift up your head"
I remember oh God , you're not done with me yet.

I dont have to be the old man inside of me
cause his day is long dead and gone 
i've got a new name a new life, I am not the same 
And a hope that will carry me HOME. 


My hope is knowing that God is not done with us yet 

The prodigal son story in the bible ( Luke 15:11-32) is a miracle because it keeps on happening still in our lifetime- it is more powerful now because of this 

Here is my hope for mankind, there is no shame in forgiveness 
we can chose to listen to a voice that is love 
instead of the legion of voices who are telling us otherwise 

Who are you listening to? 

stay in bed ...a little longer

waking early enough to beat the alarm brings a sense of peace for me.

a day with no deafening sound of a buzzer - allows me to wake in silence and breath
i take in the moments before the world beckons me to launch into action to serve It.
for a deliciously lazy moment I can quell the usual anxiety that tumults me out of bed

a morning of knowing that i can create time to stoke the fire and make coffee
brings me to a quiet self love - and joy - a joy that puts all the right things in perspective

it reminds me to turn to the one i love and hold a little longer
share space and time in the presence of peace -love a little purer
it makes me listen to his soft snore and feel the fatigue of his body
and i know that i am not lonely - i have no expectations - he sleeps

this time and space gives me the quiet to pray and feel a profound love that God has opened a new day - and i am strengthened in the calm

the quiet, the stillness brings me into deep intimacy of soul and holds the parameters of a sanctuary of home - just a little while more before the world takes everything i have out of me.

hold it a little longer
love a little purer
creating peace
finding joy

stripping away the stress that no longer defines me
i take the time to rise early...

and stay in bed...a little longer

my 4 letter word

forgiveness

finds its home in a four letter word

it looses itself in FEAR
it is a necessary prescription for HURT
it takes root in LOVE
it changes things in SELF
it creates peace in HOME

lost and found

In my frenzy I am the rabid fox
hungry, in fear, angrily facing my own trickery
where clarity was, confusion sets in and the earth doesn't smell the same

familiar paths to the safety of dens no longer lead
to a place of rest or a sanctuary from the cold

plans fail
and the world becomes a mirror I am afraid to look at
the den , warm and waiting for winter slumbers has no foxhole

- the forest whispers fox you have no place here -
and i listen - and i choose

I am cold
I am hungry
I am lost

and
the heat of rage
the emptiness of sorrow
and apathy take hold

so I wander in the darkness of my own choices


I am cold
I am hungry
I am lost


and
the heat of rage
the emptiness of sorrow
and apathy take hold



and there along the ridge of this valley
is the Ranger
silently in pursuit
safely at a distance

carefully footing the ridge
not disturbing
just observing

I wander for a time
maintaining ferocity of a rabid mind  
avoiding traps

sure-footedly the Ranger keeps pace
and in my awareness of this 
what stirs is a curiosity

no traps
no darts
no power or abuse of yielding a rifle

The Ranger simply pursues
and in my fatigue leaves morsels of food
no traps just hope of provision

the fear of being ensnared
gives way as fatigue overcomes frenzy
and i begin to find myself in the forest

with rest , provision and a passive pursuer
the forest whispers - Fox , you belong here - rest and embrace your Maker

no traps
no darts
just mercy and beckoning

and i listen - and i choose

and the heat of my rage melts
and my belly is full
and feels for what seems the first time

and clarity overtakes confusion and familiar scents
lead my nose down a path of familiarity
home

i have a place here
i am warm
i am embraced in the arms of the Maker

i find my foxhole and it is waiting for me

Haikus for Healing

in the quiet space
when my heart stops keeping score
i find my freedom

*************

old self wakes, rises
to nest at the summit of pain
set it on fire

*************

rebirth of my soul
tempers the burn of the flames
and still i am warm

*************

now free, reborn, warm
heart and soul find wings to fly
a blazing phoenix