A Trip Up the Mount

A trek along the rocky trail through the cool damp woods,

 leads me across a meadow of swaying grasses and wildflowers.

Finally within sight of the summit, 
   the walls of earth fall away leaving me vulnerable to craggy rocks,
      above the emerald river.

The sun above rises predictably toward mid-day,
   warming my skin in the cool morning.

Blowing and gusting winds from the west,
   threaten to take,
      my hat (or life) with one swift powerful burst.

Fearful of a trail-less descent, I continue my climb baboon-style,

   finally sitting before reaching the apex.
   

The rock beneath my bottom is, 
   hard, jagged, and solid.
Between sky and heavens,
   I exist on a narrow swath of earth.

Encompassed by the cloudless azure,
   I rest in the home of the eagle,
   the creature who soars closest to the Divine.


The topmost crest taunts me with its proximity;
   it is only twenty-five steps away.

The windy breath of God,
   whispers in my ear that peaks are not journey.


Ahead, a few paces beyond reach, is the land where the birds meet the One.
   It is where God,
      Yahweh,
         Allah,
            Father Spirit,
                Jehovah,
                    the Holy One communes with the winged.

The pinnacle above the raging waters, 
   atop the weathered rocks, 
      and guarded by billows that move my body against my will,
         is the place where love culminates.


Yet it is not time to reach the One.


It is time to follow,
   to rest,
      meditate,
         to learn to be.


Vulnerable.


Desirous.


Frustrated.


I sit.

I yearn for the view from above,
   the vista that answers all. 
Like the wanderers, I whine in the wilderness.
   At least as a slave I had regular meals, I rage!


I contemplate opposing the very gusts of the One,
   to be reminded that on this precipice my humanity could cease.

Stopping. Being. I trust.
   I listen to the heedfulness, the spirit within, that tickles my core and spine,
      and prevents my bodily ascent.


I sit on solid rock in the land of broad-winged birds,
   and feel the extravagant, loving breath of God on,
      my neck,
         my face, 
            and my heart.


And I journey.

A Lone Blossom

A grey day,

   a lone blossom.

Divinity within,
   yearns to burst forth,

      touching all of Creation with love.

Splash, Splish, Ka-SPLOSH!

Blue puddle,

   green puddle,

      brown puddle, too.

Clear puddle,

   murky puddle,

      puddle of grit or goo.

Tiny puddle,

   big puddle,

      gargantuan puddle, woo hoo!

Round, wide, narrow,

   oblong, 

      expansive rivers, 

         or mere trickles of damp,

            I like them all.

Puddles deep,

   and puddles that seep.

Puddles filled with life,

   crawling & oozing,

      like worms between my toes.

Puddles that coat my Wellies,

    as I splash, splish, Ka-SPLOSH!

Gurgling puddle,

   static puddle,

      gently growing puddle, too.

Stay awhile and I will, too.

Secretly Craving

Yearning for the cool sheets,
   surrounding the mattress worn into my shape,
      I force myself to continue.


Ignoring gravity,
   I remain perpendicular to the floor.
      I stand, I sit, & I struggle to remain alert.


I walk through air,
   objectively normal air,
      measurably fresh air,
         clear air.


But the factually nonresistant air pushes,
   against my whole body as I take each step.
I struggle to walk,
   through neck-high water.


Clouds of emotion contort,
   what my mind knows to be.
Like a dream in which you can't quite awake,
   clarity is there,
      but I can't quite get to it.


I know I'm asleep.
   My emotions protect,
      shut down,
          from too much.


Too much change,
   too much stimulation,
      too much self-expectation,
         and not enough self-forgiveness.


This is human,
   this is now,
      this will not last. 


I struggle to be with my emotions.
Not-so-secretly seeing "being with my emotions" 
   as solution...
      ...not-so-secretly craving rather than being.

The Sun Rolls In

Yesterday's dampness,

lingers as greyness.

The grey that,
was forever,
cracks open.

The heavy mist that,
clouded eyes & hearts,
clears beyond the bend.

The unending gloom,

the darkness,
that was forever is ending.

Around the bend,
down the river,
and over the hill,
the skies are blue.

Peaking over the bluff,
the sun rolls into sight.

Imperceptible at first,
the murkiness moves away,
followed by a glimpse of golden light.

God is in our presence,
steadily, 
reliably,
and predictably creating anew.

The creating Divinity,
dances in the sunshine,
laughs giddily,
and breathes us within godself,
as we take the One into our hearts.

Hope abounds,

divinely creating together,

    led by the abundant Love,

     we evolve and grow.


***

I am about to do a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?
I will make a way in the wilderness
and rivers in the desert. 
Isaiah 43:19 NRSV
read in context

In the Midst of the Grandeur

In the land of giant, jutting rocks,
   carved out by glaciers,
      and filled by the powerful blue river...


In the realm of the mighty wind
    that bounces wind surfers,
       deforms tall green trees, 
          and powers homes...


In the dominion of waters of teal that crest white,
    house prehistoric sturgeon below,
        and are protected by majestic eagles from above...


In this majestic land,
   you will find God in the small, reliable blossoms.

photo by Tim Graves

God Creating

Clouds roll in,

   covering the walls of stone,

   the trees of high,

   & the hope in my heart.

Hibernation seems best,

   with hope hiding in the fog.

Tosses, turns, fury & grief fill

   slumber’s dreams.

...God creating.

Awake but still asleep,

   my closed eyes miss it.

The magnificent eagle,

   flies beneath the clouds,

      in the midst of spring snow.

A love-partnered meal,

   she listens intently.

Though nods, “uh-huh” and “Yep, sucks,”

   don’t fix fears or hopelessness,

Her empathy sees me.

...God present.

Inky darkness falls,

   as human-made power fails.

A single candle lights the home,

   silenced by night.

The burning wick & shadows replace,

   the murmur of refrigerators,

      laptop beeps, & artificial laughter of TV.

In the starless night,

   enveloping silence brings an easy sleep.

Dreams obscure, 

   and an achey body,

      consume the slumber.

...Sabbath.

Night gives way,

   to morning resurrection.

Yesterday’s dark clouds, 

   blow eastward out of view.

Patience & hope roll in over the

   west peaks,

      while the sun creeps in from the East.

Deep blue river flows,

   between rocky cliffs. 

Green trees flocked in white,

   reach upward to the clear blue skies.

...God creating around & within.

Whitecaps of the One

photo by Tim Graves

The blue water of the river,
   absorbs the joyful sunshine,
      warming itself and,
          the abundance within.



Bedraggled, she walks the bank,
   the sparkling, divine water,
      radiates outward greeting her.


Joyfulness cannot be contained,
   by a rocky, sandy edge.
Whitecaps reach upward and outward,
   finding an ocular entry.


Burdened by the human-made,
   in a mere glimpse of the glistening joy, 
      the Divine rays of abundance, 
         flow into an arduous life.


The sun-water within her ripples into,
   her dispiriting presence,
      creating hopeful whitecaps in muddy waters.


Blueness saturates her brown eyes,
   and the divine sunshine flows downriver,
      breaking out of its banks into towns north & south.

Always & Forever Creating

The world: it is transforming,
   changing from what it was,
   to what it will be.


The world is,
   always and forever transforming.


The people are responding,
   some are changing,
   some by embracing,
   and some by resisting a little or a lot.


The people are,
   always and forever embracing and resisting.


The Divine is creating,
  as the Divine did in ancient times,
  in not so ancient times,
  and in our times.


The Divine is,
   always and forever creating.


The One is lovingly creating,
  not created, not planning, 
  but being & doing love.


The One is,
  always and forever love.


The Divine One is creating with love,
  and in so doing instills Oneself, 
  and in so doing weaves the Divine
  into all that is and all that will be.


The One keeps creating,
  the love keeps flowing,
  whether we resist a little or a lot.


The Loving One is,
  always and forever creating with us and within us, 
  whether we're resistance or embrace-ness. 


The One retrieves resistance,
  embraces it and transforms it,
  creating love with it.


For all that is created by love,
  for all that is created of love,
  gently steers resistance and embrace,
  to wholeness.


Always and forever,
  we move toward loving wholeness,
  guided by the love that creates and transforms.

A Poem by a Three-Year-Old

My daughter wrote this poem while we were in Ravenna, Kentucky going through my Grandmother's estate. She was 3-1/2 at the time.

Flowers grow in the summertime.
When somebody dies,
   you never see them again.
Flowers grow in the springtime.

Jessica Graves
April 1, 1988