Tag Archives: being centered

I AM…

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18

Truth revealed through a tender heart
The hands shaping wounds into works of art
Eyes that see beauty in the deepest of flaws
Who gives hope to every hopeless cause
Foundation when everything trembles around
What lifts your spirit when you’ve lost ground
The Rock of Ages in your sinking sands
A quiet still voice against the world’s demands
Maker of ways when there’s no way out
Reason for believing when filled with doubt
The light of salvation when you’ve given up
The end of thirst when you drink from my cup
Everything good beneath your broken view
Love, the Creator, and I dwell within you

This is more than a declaration of my spiritual beliefs. Each statement above represents each individual’s capacity to receive and give and BE love. There is a way to convey truth that isn’t harmful, threatening or hurtful in its delivery and intent. While some express an ease in living in denial or ignorance; this perspective is disingenuous to one’s true being. Truth isn’t always welcome, and it often travels on airs of subjectivity, causing the hearer to tune out. However, whether the hearer is someone else or you, learning to deliver and receive and BE truth is necessary to realizing a life of integrity.

Everyone is wounded. Everyone has hidden parts. Often, we sacrifice the fullness of life by constantly licking those wounds or hiding behind those secret places of hurt and insecurity. Overcoming isn’t about ignoring or forgetting; it’s about learning, reshaping and offering a testimony. What good is any pain if you do not grow from it? What good are your past experiences, if they are not used to help others going through similar trials? The key word being “good”… what “good” can come of the bad you’ve known?

Love is blind. No, it is not! Love sees all, and accepts all for what it is. Yes, we want the best for and of ourselves and those we care about… some of us even want the best for and of the world at large. But let’s be honest, nothing in this life is perfect (whatever perfect means). Criticism reigns within and without on so many levels, as this world dictates a clone mentality… look like this… think like that… measure your being up against the skew of a few. Beautiful is what makes you – YOU. What makes you special… physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually… is that which defines your unique contribution to the universe. Sameness is like listening to an orchestra and hearing only one note.

Who or what is your “go to” when you feel defeated? They say misery loves company. Well, I know nothing draws out darkness like light; it draws it and drowns it with hope and stability, pouring out a reassurance which lets you know that you will survive the sinking ship. Some are blessed to have others in their lives who serve as a rock; others are blessed to be that rock; and, many can only find the source of comfort they need beyond humanity’s angels. If you don’t have a source of uplifting… reach out, because there is ALWAYS someone willing to share joy with another’s heart.

Be still my aching heart. There is holiness in being still, in bringing peace to all the beating impulses of the mind and body. We often want to run, act, react, force, move, control… and in those desires, we lose our center. Rashness and anxiousness take over and master our wills and senses as we stand in defensiveness against the world. But in the stillness… in the calm… in the meditation… in the prayer… in the soothing whisper of a loved one, we can regain composure, perspective and presence. We must remember to carry a stillness within to balance the chaos among us.

Some believe in karma, while others see no consequence. Some believe everything happens for a reason, while others believe in chance. Some believe in free will, while others believe in destiny. Some believe in judgment. Some believe in nothing at all. Most, I think, believe in some combination of these. My faith rests in the guidance and protection of my God, Yahweh, while others define the Creator in other ways, if they, in fact, believe in a Creator. Even for the non-spiritual, however, there has to be a driving force internally or externally which prods one to persevere. Perhaps it is the human condition for them. I know, for me, too many miracles have occurred… too many paths have been uncovered… too many chances have been bestowed… too many tragedies have been survived… too many endings have been avoided… and too many unimaginable blessings have adorned my life for me to not believe in something greater than myself… greater than humanity… greater than this world.

This world confines, speaks doubt and negativity, and finds ways to extinguish the spirit of innocence and altruism. And yet, here we are. You and I, he and she, us and them… constantly fighting to reveal something beautiful, engaging, inspiring, and evolving… something so much more than what exists on the surface of existence. In as much as God is here for me, I am here for you, and you are here for someone else. We are all capable of leading someone else somewhere better; and, through the process, will find ourselves improved.

Everlasting life in His cup… the salvation of His sacrifice… the goodness He creates from our falls and failures… yes, these are my beliefs… my mantras… my “self-talk.” How similar or dissimilar these are from other faiths, I do not know. I do know that LOVE in and of itself is life giving. I do know that sharing LOVE with others is contagious and has brought many souls out of isolation and suffering. I do know that LOVE has seen through the dark, ugly and hateful, and has transformed hardened hearts and vexatious minds into completely new spirits of joy and abundance. I do know the power of LOVE… in God… in myself… and in you.

Challenge for Growth Prompt #5: I Am Love

Breathless

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Breathless

She longed to take it all in,
to be filled with knowing through every pore.
Breathing deeply; the most coveted item on her bucket list.
Lungs of a soulful depth only drew in shallow airs, leaving her
lips kissed with salty drops and gritty grains, thirsting still for more.

Her spirit fumed,
never reaching the sights of her heart.
Every part listened, but ultimately numbed to the
crushing waves of insubordination which looted her naivety.
Perhaps, no one would ever know the richness of her fullness.

Without breath,
she looked on, as if it would appear.
She looked on, as if he was allowed to take her all in.
He wasn’t. He couldn’t. He could only capture her wavering shell.
Without breath, she could only wait for the stillness to restore her life.

Reigning in Humility

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12

Daily futility tempts the soul
Nights and days unfold in vicious layers
So many players try to take hold
of a stayer by turning blind ears and
numb hearts to the truths imparted
Therefore, it’s best to just end where it
started – in silence
Deeper than physical, verbal violence
is a game changer at the core;
no good in store for forbearance forgone
Right or wrong, it is better to mend than
get caught up in the bend that
can send away a spirit to mix
in the depths of a fix fixed on destruction
Such eruptions cripple ties, forge spies,
breed despise and leave eyes cutting
through blinks of rebutting and, well,
there goes the neighborhood because
did didn’t equal should and
all that’s left is not for the greater,
but just no good, and
silence rules…
A tool meant for use before
disassociation was the excuse, leaving
circumstance as the dominant state
Reevaluate the stakes of loose tongues;
the rungs on ego’s ladder that leave you
high strung and choking, evoking life’s
standards when you could’ve been
exceptional, leading the processional
of those risen above, intending
in the love and lifting up
with dignity a reigning in humility

For Dungeon Prompts: Humbling Ourselves

Wings

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4

Come float upon the breaths which gift the spirit’s flight
Weaving through each finger the feathers of hope’s delight
Knowing not what lies beyond horizon’s reddened light
Still a worthy venture, clawing past despairing night

Flying high on faith, within the broken heart’s cocoon
Landing on the Rock to bask away life’s deepest wounds
Wading in the glory, for every midnight has its moon
Dancing with the story, for every note reveals a rune

Compiling pieces of the journey into a span far and wide
Watching soul begin to soar as all but joy will soon subside
Casting light between all clouds, on these blessed wings I ride
Ensuing peace, for everything a rightful place beneath God’s eyes

For Dungeon Prompts: Using our Words for Spreading Joy

Averted

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7

Crushing this rushing of desire; this
thirst of a heart on fire… running renegade,
compromising empires where altruistic gains
fall lame to crippling wants; where
the weight of sacrificial tithes daunt ’til
all feelings become numb.
Suppressing the stressing of the
center of one, when grounded loses to
dumbfounded in the fog of disheveled sun –
no longer shining in the twining of rays
misdirected, beams affected by the
neutralizing force of energy’s first clause;
there’s no applause for lost place.
Course correct to brace oneself for the
race of all time; floating soul against
sprinting mind, with pace car labeled
“I want mine” always perpetrating its cause.
How will eternity define one’s presence;
the cost analysis of one’s essence…
Captured in the rapture of self set high, or
Freed upon the wings of an angel’s uprise?
There’s no surprise in tempered living; only
seeing and forgiving; only
ends and new beginnings inside
this perpetual cocoon, where soon is
relative to temperament and doom is
realized through sentiment and formidable truth is
the echo no one wants to hear.
No more fear masked in its vices, wearing
shades of our own devices, hoping
next time ’round the will won’t be averted.
In and out these breaths are measured,
holding fast to spirit’s treasures; knowing
life by way of desire leaves much deserted.

For Dungeon Prompts: Desire.  I’m a week late on this one (sorry). I’ve been traveling (still am), but had a window of down time at the airport. 🙂

Holding Composition

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15

The Unknown Righteous_Jerusalem Square of Remembrance

Resurrected bits and pieces resist the crumble,

while vices mumble in these halls, leaning

hard against these walls.

And though I’m home,

I feel alone,

listening for answers my heart can’t hold.

These scenes aren’t foreign,

but I am…

not fitting this skin I’m held in;

needing new form and parcel

for this breath of partial

blowing through my frame.

Reaching for fulfilled me,

tripping over empty;

vacant lots where impressions stayed.

Wanting Him to have His way, while

salted sores impose delay;

how can I rinse away these stains

from nature’s stone?

On my own, fighting in faith,

as demolitions swing their fates;

this foundation feels the quake

… something is lost.

But for the cause, I stay awake,

vigilant for watching’s sake; a

lighthouse beaming hopeful refuge

through these eyes.

Unwelcome spies casting shades,

by this prayer eclipses fade;

flailing forms dissipate as dawn comes nigh.

Structure abides for one more ride,

but I confess this space confines

and, with it, time defies me;

pinching corners in the sphere

of my timeless here.

I just want to be –

without then or there or them or he…

free of now’s dichotomy.

Newness in a soul’s rebirth,

dropped face down in yester’s dearth;

how the pressure closes in on will.

And still, I am the pillar rising high,

holding form and sowing life, while

all the holes beneath the worth

keep me tethered to sinking earth.

Teeter

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9

teeter_n2pub_credit

This silly world of ups and downs,
grasping for earth and clouds
in disproportionate measure;
fiening for frivolous work and
intensified pleasures.
Where is the weight of existence
when hearts are heavier than
the feathery disposition of mind-kind?
Man is but thought and flesh,
losing soul in the center,
casting out his Inventor for the
adulteration of both.
Full scope narrows as the
cascading of false joys smother;
tethering one lie to another, and so
we suffocate in the smokescreen
that holds our baited breath.
Drawing in deeply upon the
staleness of – this is all –
and there life falls into the void.
Who is left annoyed by this
emptiness of being, this
looking without seeing, this
thinking without knowing, this
taking without needing, this
acting without feeling?
Treachery is breeding, while
balance flees its cause, leaving
today’s teeter in the shadow
of tomorrow’s cost.

Image credit: n2pub.com

He Laughs

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17

He’s tickled through the seasons…
and I’m the reason.
Sometimes, He laughs so hard, He cries;
especially, when I am wise and
rest assured that tomorrow’s figured out.
What is that about?
He grins;
wiping His eyes from winter’s night
to spring’s daylight,
shaking off all those tears.

But summer bore my soul…
and I’m gifted in this role.
I can talk the talk
and walk the walk, taking
troubles with an easy stride.
Is that right?
He shakes His head;
letting summer’s streak turn up the heat
‘til every feat
feels like scaling the Himalayas.

Now, really, how hard can it be?
Recovery is a breeze…
I’ve fallen hard with autumn’s blow, and
at this age I ought to know just how to
pick up all the pieces and move on.
Oh, girl, come on!
His insides chuckle;
while He watches my knees buckle,
posture truckled
low beneath the changing winds.

I say, “Look, God, let’s get this straight!
Through all your plans, I bear the weight,
weather storms and give you praise;
yet, mysteries compose my days.”
Roaring, sparks and rolling seas…
Well, I’ll be!
He slaps His knee;
catching breath for words with me.
Lovely child, do see…
you project for just one life; I, for eternity.

For Dungeon Prompt: Making God Laugh

This Labor

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7

Heart to the grindstone…
There’s no void to fill,
only the struggle of human will.
Levitation is heavy in this
soul-dropping plane of existence.
Beyond any repentance –
the unforgiving gavel of
the daily unravel.
Sizing up situations with the
skins I tailor:
dressing down victories and
dressing up failures, but these
shoes never change.
The tread is long and light.
I wear this fight
in the ease of my stride, while the
bleed of my tears tell me
I’m still alive.
From the gritty beginnings, to the
forums of scholars; from
praying for ends, to the
giving of dollars; from the
shelter of nana and her teachings
of Zion, to the
innocence of love lost in the
dens of the lions…
This rounding out of “here”
drives my spirit to “there” and
I feel, but don’t flinch anymore.
What’s more, my falls don’t sink,
even when death seems like
more than a blink –
I linger in the quiet place,
‘til rise reintroduces itself by grace.
I work hard at this balance;
this artful toil of being present
where my body belongs, but
the rest of me doesn’t.
Lowly peasant teetering
beneath this diadem of glory;
like Hephzibah’s story –
Desolate form lost in this world;
evoking a light only God can unfurl.
Wielding His beacon, as darkness I roam;
this labor of life paves the way to my home.

In response to Dungeon Prompts: Hard Work, What Does It Mean To You?

To me… physical labor, service to others, motherhood, spiritual growth, career development, and living with integrity… are all necessary, valuable, “doable” elements of life. And by “doable” I mean… very manageable for me, without too much difficulty, given my natural inclinations toward each area. The “hard work” comes in when one must balance everything meaningful to one’s life without cracking under the pressure and breaking into pieces of uselessness that no one else can be held accountable for because… well… all the pressure came from myself; my own desire to excel at everything and let no one down. We measure ourselves constantly… in our minds, in our circles, in our societies. We size up our intellect, cleverness, humor, brawn, adeptness, victories, failures, likability, uniqueness, sameness, and so on. Even the lazy have a slothful scale of comparison. No matter how much or how little you do; how much or how little you have; and how much or how little you care, I believe life is contextually challenging. Life itself is the hard work; the adding and subtracting of the relevance and impact of experiences and circumstances through the tunnel vision of human eyes. And for those of us who relish in spiritual elevation; life is all the more intense, but in a peacefully centered way. I have been fortunate enough to walk down many trails in this lifetime. The culmination of societal extremes rests squarely in my mind’s eye and my heart’s understanding; and I would be a lesser person if I didn’t embrace this blessing. So, while I do complain often about the injustice within my bubble… it is only dust babbling. My soul can’t count high enough to tally all the good I have known. I am ever grateful for this labor of life.

The Struggle

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How troubles find me in these fields
wrapped in petals, among smothering weeds
Deeply inhaling fresh damp earth, as I
dig deeper to sow these seeds

Like freckles lost in newborn skin,
each blemish quaintly smoothed
This face reflecting every end –
A profile still unmoved

Knowing all a heart can know,
yet seeking so much more
Praying for death as I chase new life
Self-abandoned for the One I adore

Holding steady to a centered peace
while I heel-toe on the ledge
Begging for a safe reprieve, as I’m
drawn closer to the edge

So much lies within these walls
where windows threaten to shatter
Taking cover amid hallowed halls
to escape the earthly chatter

Sirens call out with their charms,
flickering moth to flame
Darkness woos with candied tongue
Now, thoughts are dipped in shame

Herein lies the shifting lever
to this tug-of-war inside
Can compromise buy out my fervor
and gently cloak these eyes?

There is no price that can be paid
to resurrect the Light
But treasures bartered in the lay
intensify the fight

Steadfast is the soul’s one cry
while dust drifts towards the sea
The sun and moon in this spirit lie;
my struggle with humanity

Thanksgiving

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Not a day,
but a way of life
centered on You

No feast greater than
the filling up our Creator has
placed at my table

But for You,
I was never able to overcome,
persevere, survive… See

Mind never
quite where it needs to be
because I’m human

Thus, eyes You’ve sewn
in this heart – Your part;
Master’s giving tree

Eternally praying it forward,
loving how You love me,
and I can’t help but share it

Spared it at times,
as recovery takes time
from the hands of man

Pain is fleeting;
not this beating of Truth, though
Your embrace never dies

Never too wise,
compromise binds the fragile spirit
veiled with flesh and ignorance

Still, where this soul fails,
Your faithfulness prevails
and – if nothing more –

All of my being
knows
to whom it shall give thanks

 

Elements

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0

Rolling tide breaks free
of ocean’s gravity
rising high to regain pride and
defy placement amongst the calm

Fullest awe then folds and crashes
birthing fields of foamy laughter
knowing molds no longer guide
complacent paths

All is still, but only resting
til next moment comes arresting
springing up above horizon
new day’s shore

Spirit tide you are my core.

Billowed cloud no longer gray
drops of darkness cast away
kissed by earth in heaven’s way
to subdue the flustered puff

Nearly empty of its weights
angels blow to dissipate
chains lingering in the sails
so it may float

Drifting deeply into currents
taking risks without assurance
owning nothing but the riches
of its Maker

Heart cloud you are my center.

Cloaked in afterthoughts of day
granting moon the gift of sway
leaving wolves to howl their cries
in murky skies

Sun takes rise against its rival
summons Light for all survival
granting mercy’s liberation
to the flawed

Upon grace its rays are burning
tempered fury for the undeserving
flames command the storms of life
revere its source

Soul sun you are my force.