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I have gone through a lot over the past decade. I think that I am honestly at the point of visually seeing the gap between our Gifts, given to us by the Holy Spirit, and opportunities afforded us.
Opportunities, not to take possession of that “Gift” but rather give it to others; as if it were not ours but theirs, vital for their sustenance. Evident in the movement of my spirit to witness. This place that I now view allows me to begin the process of releasing all of my yeast until unleavened becomes my spirit; witnessed as truth not self-proclaimed. To take and close the gap, to remove all my desires, needs and wants so that only God exists. Jesus Christ working through me in response, in reaction, and engagement to others. Literally being the author of my life. Blotting out, if you will, those characters that read me into a book not worth my reading, disappointing in that the potential of the main character, the autobiography’s author, was never realized. I can actively edit. And as the page turns, the further the temporal importance of those or that which was edited becomes in the development or movement of the main character towards that God-given potential. Loving, truly unconditionally loving, those who do their part in my further development as God chooses. Allowing me, to deepen my relationship with Him, through the intercession of Mary to our Lord Jesus Christ; be that good or bad, loving and giving thanks.
Understanding and accepting that I myself can never do – you see it is far too easy to keep my yeast churning deep inside because, after all, in due time I will rise. But like the air, in that it occupies the negative space within the risen bread, so does that yeast in my spirit, negative, empty and ultimately hollow, serving only to separate the true substance. Opportunity to remove the yeast of myself and live the reality of His promise.
This has been my second true opportunity of free will, a choice to understand the gap and live the lie ignoring its existence. A lie fueled by self-delusion and an internal dialogue creating a reality of non-denial, or to start letting go and Believe. The first opportunity, being clear enough to bring into focus that the perceived enemy was me, my ego and the denial of the simplicity of Truth. That being, He wants me to come home. He wants me to get out of my own way, to let go and let God. Resulting in a true narrative and relationship which feels every strain, just as that of a spouse, a true Bridesmaid and though that opportunity is crystal clear it is no easier achieved.
Time is the stage, the setting, and context of which that choice exists. Boundless directions, boundless choices through which I can choose for Him to author through me specifically, out of love for Him. Seeing clearly the gap of each choice’s distance from union. Understanding the urgency to author a love story, a living chapter in the eternal Gospel.
To become joyous again; I can remember a time when I was truly internally happy, not because of anything or anyone external, rather I myself was happy. My key ring was a lot less heavy. I have no delusions that I alone can remove all the keys I choose, even give the key ring over all together. Replacing in my grasp Him, through the reality of the Eucharist, instituted at the Last Supper, eternally present to us – pure love. Truly desiring that union, His yeast within me rather than that of my own. Truly happy, joyous about that Love afforded me, never being forced to give up anything, Him bearing the estrangement in Loving hope, awaiting the invitation to occupy. Viewing through His eyes an abundant Love, obedient in its sincerity.
Seeing the arena of good and evil in the particular time and context that is being occupied, turning on its axis and viewing the gap and how it increases or decreases dependant on the choice I make. How I alone am not only affected in a vacuum, but as ultimately given, influence the characters in my book and the context of time. By His love I can be reconciled to Him and in Him partake in His eternally present depths of love that hope unites in faithful joy of obedience in free will at ultimately encountering God. Letting each opportunity move me forward in eternal life united with His mystical body.
Eliminating that gap and allowing for His body, His works to be made present. Manifested in the opportunity at present by way of the Gifts, provided to each of us, from the Holy Spirit. That is the footprint of our God-given talent. Unlike those that fade with time or the changing of the seasons, this impression will last into eternity, impacting lives unimagined. This is truly to be an instrument of God. This actualization is not immediate; the gap is not eliminated overnight or in a few weeks or even years.
Through Faith and Patience I must stand as God’s plan for my life is realized. A manifestation rooted in the journey through Faith and Patience. I must be steadfast in my Faith and patient when tried with adversity. Joyfully aware in the present that when my Faith is tried, and inevitably it will be, that it is my consistency through Patience that I grow closer to His will for my life. Not letting the gap widen but rather shrink.
John 8: 1 -11 Reflective Poem
My canvas is the infinite space inside your mind.
My paint, the words from a pallet which is mine.
An eternal masterpiece, intangible with hands to be hung.
Carried, once painted, like that of the prodigal son.
Sit back, relax, and let me do my work
touching you in places where your deepest thoughts lurk.
He knelt and began to write in the dirt.
What do you read when acting with reason to hurt?
When He stood no one was left but you
His Grace offered to see you through.
In one brush stroke you are both accuser and accused
A revelation that leaves the ego confused.
Don't act too quickly... in the moment don't be brash,
For the next breath you take could be your last.
My paint, the words from a pallet which is mine.
An eternal masterpiece, intangible with hands to be hung.
Carried, once painted, like that of the prodigal son.
Sit back, relax, and let me do my work
touching you in places where your deepest thoughts lurk.
He knelt and began to write in the dirt.
What do you read when acting with reason to hurt?
When He stood no one was left but you
His Grace offered to see you through.
In one brush stroke you are both accuser and accused
A revelation that leaves the ego confused.
Don't act too quickly... in the moment don't be brash,
For the next breath you take could be your last.
Devil's Eyes
Sometimes I think that I see the eyes of the devil when I look at my paycheck.
What is this power that takes over everything that is naturally ours?
Twists, contorts, and bastardizes our very soul.
After all, without that check how could all of “this” survive on its’ own;
is the mentality we hold dear.
Quickly suppressing even the most minute glimmer of our true selves.
What power is this, reflecting back at me?
And why have I willingly let my sight become blind to my own soul, my true father and my true mother – that power of my soul’s true birth?
I remember slightly every time I turn inward to suppress the memory.
Why have we let this thing blind us?
STOP and ask why.
What is it that this devil does not want us to see?
What is this power that takes over everything that is naturally ours?
Twists, contorts, and bastardizes our very soul.
After all, without that check how could all of “this” survive on its’ own;
is the mentality we hold dear.
Quickly suppressing even the most minute glimmer of our true selves.
What power is this, reflecting back at me?
And why have I willingly let my sight become blind to my own soul, my true father and my true mother – that power of my soul’s true birth?
I remember slightly every time I turn inward to suppress the memory.
Why have we let this thing blind us?
STOP and ask why.
What is it that this devil does not want us to see?
MADE IN THY IMAGE
If this is all that I am,
Let me be no more or no less.
For this is your creation.
Perfect in your image.
Given in your grace.
Let me live and let me die.
But please, do not let me forget.
Do not let me forget how to love
With my soul.
With that which is me.
My essence, my being.
Forgive me,
The I, the me,
Is nothing.
Do not let me forget,
That we are one and it
Is Love that is me.
My soul is you,
Your breath.
You, the one that is all
Compassion.
Fear not what you are.
For you’re mere reflections of existence.
A reflection of one type.
The abyss is just that, an abyss.
And there is an infinite number
Of reflections.
Thank you for my image,
For my breath.
The illusion of life is complex
And you are the needle lost within.
Calm the madness.
Emerge before my eyes, crystal clear.
Life lost in living …
There is not one exit.
Let me be no more or no less.
For this is your creation.
Perfect in your image.
Given in your grace.
Let me live and let me die.
But please, do not let me forget.
Do not let me forget how to love
With my soul.
With that which is me.
My essence, my being.
Forgive me,
The I, the me,
Is nothing.
Do not let me forget,
That we are one and it
Is Love that is me.
My soul is you,
Your breath.
You, the one that is all
Compassion.
Fear not what you are.
For you’re mere reflections of existence.
A reflection of one type.
The abyss is just that, an abyss.
And there is an infinite number
Of reflections.
Thank you for my image,
For my breath.
The illusion of life is complex
And you are the needle lost within.
Calm the madness.
Emerge before my eyes, crystal clear.
Life lost in living …
There is not one exit.
SEARCHING BLIND
Brothers and sisters,
you must stop looking to man to give you that which only God can give. How many times did He say to you:
"I am the way, the truth and the life."
When He walked among you, did He not say:
"whoever drinks this water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become to him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."
But even then only some believed.
Today you still search in darkness rather than closing ones eyes to see in truth.
you must stop looking to man to give you that which only God can give. How many times did He say to you:
"I am the way, the truth and the life."
When He walked among you, did He not say:
"whoever drinks this water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become to him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."
But even then only some believed.
Today you still search in darkness rather than closing ones eyes to see in truth.
JUST TALK
Talk to me
And don’t
Say a word.
Talk to me
And don’t feel
Anything.
Talk to me
And be without
Any expression.
Talk to me
And don’t
See me
Talk to me
And think about
Anything but me.
Talk to me
And say nothing
I can comprehend.
Talk to me
And shit anywhere
You’d like to.
Talk to me
And eat anything
Your mouth waters for.
Talk to me
And take anything
You damn well please.
Talk to me
While going anywhere
Your dreams can imagine.
Talk to me
And watch anything
You want to watch.
Talk to me
And wear whatever
You like.
Talk to me
And be as clean or as dirty
As you want to be.
Talk to me
And smell however
You want to smell.
Talk to me
Before, after, and during
Yes…even during
Making love to me.
Talk to me
And I’ll give you everything…
But, please
Please
Talk to me.
And don’t
Say a word.
Talk to me
And don’t feel
Anything.
Talk to me
And be without
Any expression.
Talk to me
And don’t
See me
Talk to me
And think about
Anything but me.
Talk to me
And say nothing
I can comprehend.
Talk to me
And shit anywhere
You’d like to.
Talk to me
And eat anything
Your mouth waters for.
Talk to me
And take anything
You damn well please.
Talk to me
While going anywhere
Your dreams can imagine.
Talk to me
And watch anything
You want to watch.
Talk to me
And wear whatever
You like.
Talk to me
And be as clean or as dirty
As you want to be.
Talk to me
And smell however
You want to smell.
Talk to me
Before, after, and during
Yes…even during
Making love to me.
Talk to me
And I’ll give you everything…
But, please
Please
Talk to me.
DON’T LET GO
Take hold,
Take hold,
Clinch until your knuckles turn white.
Hold onto it with your right hand
As if it was the very egg that gives you life.
And with your left,
As if it was the very sperm that gives you life.
Look now at what this is.
The knife, plunged, piercing, mangling the flesh;
Thirsty for blood which it cannot drink,
Thirsty nevertheless.
An image of despair, of lost spirit.
You look…you.
Look now at what it is that life has given you,
What you hold onto.
Look at the rotting flesh, at the flames, at the abuse.
Look into the abyss, into the eyes that reflect nothing.
Hatred.
Hold on.
Don’t let go.
If you do, you die.
Hold on.
Consume it,
Smell it,
Taste it.
Roll around in it,
Like a freshly raked pile
Of crisp dry leaves.
It is there that it rests,
Between the last expulsion of air from your lungs
And death.
No, don’t let go.
If you do,
You’ll die.
Hold on
To the grotesque,
To the utterly repulsive
and vulgar acts.
Love them and those who do them.
More than that,
Let’s make this personal.
Love the deep recessive places that conjure the very ideas of such shit.
Love it.
This is where your life resides.
Can you throw a bucket of manure, of shit, out a window
And expect it not to land on something?
And if it were you that it landed on,
Would you be content, could you not accept it?
The smell alone would persuade you to if you had difficulty.
And would you not hope for something better in the times to come?
Do not let go.
Do not hate dung that has fallen on you,
On us.
Love it.
It is the egg and the sperm of hope, of grace,
Of possibilities not before seen and
Thus fertilizes our lives.
Take hold,
Clinch until your knuckles turn white.
Hold onto it with your right hand
As if it was the very egg that gives you life.
And with your left,
As if it was the very sperm that gives you life.
Look now at what this is.
The knife, plunged, piercing, mangling the flesh;
Thirsty for blood which it cannot drink,
Thirsty nevertheless.
An image of despair, of lost spirit.
You look…you.
Look now at what it is that life has given you,
What you hold onto.
Look at the rotting flesh, at the flames, at the abuse.
Look into the abyss, into the eyes that reflect nothing.
Hatred.
Hold on.
Don’t let go.
If you do, you die.
Hold on.
Consume it,
Smell it,
Taste it.
Roll around in it,
Like a freshly raked pile
Of crisp dry leaves.
It is there that it rests,
Between the last expulsion of air from your lungs
And death.
No, don’t let go.
If you do,
You’ll die.
Hold on
To the grotesque,
To the utterly repulsive
and vulgar acts.
Love them and those who do them.
More than that,
Let’s make this personal.
Love the deep recessive places that conjure the very ideas of such shit.
Love it.
This is where your life resides.
Can you throw a bucket of manure, of shit, out a window
And expect it not to land on something?
And if it were you that it landed on,
Would you be content, could you not accept it?
The smell alone would persuade you to if you had difficulty.
And would you not hope for something better in the times to come?
Do not let go.
Do not hate dung that has fallen on you,
On us.
Love it.
It is the egg and the sperm of hope, of grace,
Of possibilities not before seen and
Thus fertilizes our lives.
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