Hidden in Plain Sight

I looked out, sought relief.  I tried to climb the latter.  I've climbed and climbed, only to find that my latter is against the wrong wall.  Or maybe climbing is even the wrong exercise.

May I not just reinforce my pride.  I don't want failure.  But if weakness is exposed in me, may it be more to be given over to the Christ mystery?  Might my hopes be set on a power greater than me?

I want to happy all of the time.  I don't want to feel sad or uncomfortable.  But if I hold on to the notions of what I want to make me happy, might it keep from being held?  Might it keep me from true happiness?   Might it keep me from an eternal happiness, a happiness that is Universal and for everyone?

Loved.  I try and squirm and squish my way to happiness.  Trying to fill every crack with the promise of good times and contentment.  But the thing about having no more space, is that there is no space for something else.  If I'm a solid brick, where can the light shine through?  Yet I return to my scheming, to trying to build my tower, to try and make my mark.  Confusion.  Pain.

Could it be so simple?  Is the good news really good news?

Finally Ok

Listen with me.  What if we put our ear to the ground.  Will we hear anything?  Maybe it will takes us a sec to tune in.  But what if we're patient.  Resisting the desire to flee, resisting the restlessness trying to pull us from our meditative stance.  So we listen.  What was at first silence, becomes a hum.  The hum resonates with our very fiber of being, though we might not recognize this yet.  But we continue to listen.  The hum become a soft tune.  We start to feel relief.  Our desire to flee is also matched by an attraction to what we are being drawn to.  No we're in the middle, floating.  Between the busyness of our lives, and the rest we might have started to realize.  We're curious.  Now to flee feels less like a reaction, more like a choice we would have to make.  But we're drawn enough, enough attracted to this new stance that we stay, with our ear to the ground, with our heart turned toward what we are feeling.  It grows stronger.  Now we notice that we feel comfort.  Our worries fall into the background.  There is a newness to the way we feel, something fresh.  And even thought this newness seems tailored to us, we get the sense that we are being held by something universal.  Something that includes our own uniqueness, but also seems to be a comfort where anyone could rest.  This only increase our desire to be here.  Now we are ready.  We completely let go, being held.  And in this space, we are finally ok.

Swirling in and out

A swirling it goes.  I blows this way, and then that.  Saying hello to the passerby.  It cannot be trapped or tamed.  Once I feel I have it cornered, I find it blowing behind me.  It's a mystery.  A going out and coming forth.  Swirling, dancing, calling, yet found in silence.  The violin and instruments accompany it, yet can never fully define it.  The drummer drums to its beat, and yet walks away knowing she has only serenaded the mystery for a time.

But it is generous.  Just because it can't be trapped doesn't mean it isn't good.  Rather, it is the foundation of all that is good, of all that is. It's only that it's foundation is so deep, that we can but skim the surface.  But lo, we have all eternity to fly its skies.  To swim its oceans.  To dance with it on mountains.  To be carried by its breeze.  So lost in flow, with the invitation of all eternity.

At home

Home.  A place of peace.  Where my questions don't bury me, but propel me towards greater truth.  Where I belong, where we all belong.  Where I can finally let me guard down.  When my worries can finally be dissolved.  Home.  Where we can look each other in the eyes and there be no barriers to love.  Alive and yet at rest.  A place where when I'm at rest, I don't fear I will loose the life.  And when I'm alive, I don't fear loosing the rest.

Because what we build upon is a solid foundation.  Original goodness.  Where it all started.  The beginning.  Where it's all headed.  

Noise, Or Arrangement?

Is it all noise?  Or in the procession of our noise, is there an underlying beat, waiting to come forth?  Is what comes up from the dirt noise, or is a song being made?  Will the temperament of the tempest and storm eventually find their place in the musical parade?  Will the wind blowing through the trees, become in tune with the uprising beat, to complement it's sound and to add nuance?  Then will people join in to add the melody?  Then, will more and more people join in to make it a chorus?  

And then, with earth, wind and people all singing along, will we be at peace?  Is this what we long for all along?  To sing together?  To complement the rest of creation?  In this, do we become bigger people?  

Our songs won't be the same.  But together, we can collaborate, each add our flavor, and make a bigger and more expansive song.  This does not take away from your individual notes, the unique and individual song that is yours and yours alone to sing.  It is both/and, not either/or.  I want to learn from your song.  Teach me.  How has your unique pains and struggle influenced the notes you play?  What has helped you on your journey to craft your song?  Who were your teachers?  The louder and clearer you play your song, the more I learn.  Yet the soft parts, even the silence between melodies, teach me about you.  

Separate.  Yet together.  Yet representing one.  Let us become what we we already are.  Let us become what we truly are.  

Beauty Beyond

Beauty exists.  In the material world, before the material world, and that which expands the material world into eternity.  At times, it may seem that darkness is the greater force, however strong this sense might be, it isn't the truth.  Sometimes we may only see breaks in the clouds, rays of light seeping through.  But behind the clouds is a beautiful and bright sun.  The sun, is the greater truth, and holds more power than the clouds or darkness. 

Sometimes we hold out for the light.  However, a deeper truth is that the light is holding out for it to be revealed to us.  It desires to be shown in us greater than we desire it.  How else could it be stronger than darkness?  Stronger than anything we do or encounter?

Salvation is than dying.  So let the dying start in me sooner than my physical death, so that I may experience salvation in the here and now.

Home is greater than the corners we run to.  An infinite infinities, beauty blowing like wind.  Molecules and atoms blowing this way and that, and still only at the start of the fullness of what is.  

Being held

Maybe I could let me guard down.  Maybe the true self, who I really am, doesn't needed to prove myself.  Before I do anything, I am a child of God.  As are you.  All the things I think I am.  Mere passing notions.  The things I do, where I seek solace, the places I seek to land.  What's already prepared for me, by far surpasses them all.  What we already are far surpasses anything we think we could be.  The victory has already been won.  To sink into the true reality, is to sink into a much bigger field.  A much more spacious field.  I must die to all I attach to, so that I can be held.