With Time and Patience

I did not know what to do, so I did this.
I did not know how to help, but I had to try.

In the process, I have learned
There are more important things than knowing.

There is willingness to try
And trying even though you do not know how.


As we come to realize our gifts,
We do not burst these bonds.

We do not split assunder
Into galaxies and stars.


We see the broken pieces
And the twisted parts of us,

Not as debris to sweep away,
But as assets to employ

In service to others.


The sorrows are not done away with,

But they are melded with wisdom,
With love and with hope.



The stronger you become,
The more careful you must be.

The more careful you are,
The stronger you become.


Real strength is not a power over anything.
It holds all in its hands. It does not ask from, but for.

It is this way for time and all eternity.
It is this way in instances and moments.


We are shown light.
We are shown kindness.

We are not blinded.
We are not struck down.


There is not asking of, but for,
And the implications of that.

There are things we cannot get
That we can be for others.


That is the secret.
We do not get to get. We get to be.

In the course of our journeys
And in the time they take

We become what we have hoped for.



Light and warmth
Do not ask to be believed in.

They do not need to.

When there is light and warmth,
No one has to tell you so.


Loving individuals
Will want for, not from you.

You will want for, not from,
As you become more and more that way.



That we are confused, at times,
About where we are going,

What we are becoming,
And how we are to,

Is not foolishness or failure.


To want things out of season,
To want things out of time,

To be impatient with what is,
Is a sign of immaturity.


That is not a crime, but a stage.

With time and patience, wisdom grows.
As wisdom grows, it allows the time

Things need to develop.


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Knowing For Yourself

Her boy had been playing with the clock
And had caught his finger in the gears,

But they did not head for town.


My grandfather would be delivering the mail
And he would know what to do.

Such was their faith in him,
And it was well-placed.


My grandfather watched over people.
He looked for those in need.

He offered help without being asked.
He gave of himself in concrete ways.



It was a freezing cold Saturday
And there were only three shopping days left

And there this couple sat on a corner with a sign
And he had driven past before he saw them.


He had to turn around to go back to them.

It was a little thing to do,
But he couldn’t help but wonder

How many or how few had stopped
Who were driving by on Christmas errands.


Maybe the crutches were a prop and a ploy.
Maybe they were getting rich that way.

Or maybe they were two of God’s children,
Lost and confused in many ways.


All he knew was that for the cost
Of a few presents more or less,

He did something and she said,
“God bless you.” like she meant it.



We are not here to sort out this way,
Not here to make pronouncements upon.

We are not here to reach verdicts on.


We are here to learn compassion for,
Here to come to understandings of,

We who seem to least deserve,
We who seem to least expect.



I may not have told you,
But you may have figured out,

I am stubborn and hardheaded.


I have had to do things my own way.
I have had to put things my own way.

I have not been inclined to believe.
I have doubted and tested and tried myself.



We do not need to be raised up.
We all learn to rise,

And as we do, we help each other to.


We all hope for love,
But it always comes as a surprise

When it comes from the inside out of us.


We understand the difference then
Between thinking and doing,

Between believing in and being.


It is the difference between
Tasting and feeling

And knowing for yourself
And not.


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Finding Each Other

Many years ago, I worked as a teacher’s aide
In a first-grade class.

It was a most enjoyable and growth-filled
Year for me.


I learned a great deal
In that first-grade class

About growth and development,
About what caring and teaching are,

About finding others, where they are,
And leading them from there.



There is no entrance from the outside in
To anywhere that matters.

The only access to anywhere that matters
Is from the inside out.


I am playing with words,
But I am not just playing with words.

Worlds await you, but not out there.


They are worlds of depth,
Not worlds of breadth.

They are realms of being.



You do not need to learn
How to leap buildings in a single bound,

Or how to run faster than a speeding bullet.


You need to learn what kindness is
And what it is not,

What patience is and what it is not.


As you do, you will begin to feel
Superhuman.

As you do, you will begin to see
Incredible depths.



I remember one night at a school open house
When I was in the third grade.

I went back to the classroom
Where I had been in first grade.

A friend and I laughed
At the books we had once read

When we were so little.


I don’t remember what she said,

But I remember Mrs. Miller
Smiling and laughing with us.



I remember being a first-grader.
It was serious business at the time.

There was much about the first grade
That was challenging and frightening to me.

I remembered that the year I worked
As a teacher’s aide.



There was a little boy
I worked with one-on-one that year,

Who had a learning disability.


I remember one day, we were working with words
And we came to the word “friend.”

I asked him if he knew what a friend was.
He said, “Yes. A friend is someone who helps you.”


I said to him,
“Do you know I am trying to help you?”

And he said, “Yes.”

In that moment, we found each other
In a way I will never forget.


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Through Our Efforts

There is a love so great it cannot be told.

There is a love so great
It can only be expressed and shown

In fact and in actuality.


When all is done,
When all has been fulfilled,

We will then be asked,
“Was any one forgotten?”

“Has any prayer been left unanswered?”


Every tongue, indeed, will then confess,
But not as it has been made to sound,

Not like a confession after torture,
Not like a confession beaten out of us.


We will then confess our love,
And we will then confess our gratitude.

Every knee, indeed, will then be bent,
Not fearfully submitting to, but honoring.



It does not matter if
You do not know where to start or how,

If you will simply go ahead and try.


Ask in prayer
And then do your best.

Most answers do not come
While we sit and wait,

But in the midst of
And through our efforts.



One of Cindy’s students reads very well,
But cannot convey in writing,

Has been emotionally traumatized by his family,
Resists all efforts made to help him,

Is disruptive and hurtful to others,
Is well-aware of his problems and has given up,

And is only thirteen.


There are adults in this boy’s life
Who want to help him and are trying,

But they have their limits too.


This is a real-life situation,
Not a riddle or a puzzle with an answer.

It is a tangle and a complication,
A challenge worthy of God’s attention

And frustrating to even His best efforts.


Wouldn’t I like to write of something simpler,
Of problems with clear-cut answers

I could cleverly explain to you?


It is simpler to make pronouncements,
Simpler to reach verdicts on.

It is infinitely more difficult to help,
More complicated and more trying to care.



There is not a punch-line
This is leading to.

There is real life that real love faces.


There are real limitations
And there are real ways of facing them,

Ways that touch and feel and try,
And in so doing, express and show

In ways that give us hope.


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Form and Substance

I have been reading about
The American Arts and Crafts Movement

That flourished in the United States
From about 1890 to 1920.


It was a philosophical response
To the industrial revolution

That was expressed in the creation
Of certain kinds of objects in certain ways.


It was a rejection of mass production,
Of the quality of things that it produced,

And of the quality of life for those
Involved in the machinery of mass production.


It was proposed that everything
Was becoming more abundantly available,

But that everything was meaning less.



The advocates of Arts and Crafts
Placed value on the quality of objects

That were seen as having been
Imbued with significance

By the quality of work
Invested in their creation.


Superficial decorations
Were done away with.

Designs revealed
The methods of construction

And emphasized
The beauty of materials.


The Arts and Crafts Movement
Was about transparency.

It was about honesty and integrity
In the way we live our lives.



I have sacrificed in my life,
Believing in a better life to come,

But as this better life has come,
I find emaciated parts of me

Still lingering in darkness,
Denying me health,

Real wealth, and happiness.


Taking care of myself has been
The least of my concerns,

But I recognize the imbalance
And the lingering illness in this.


As I participate in healing,

I am learning to be better
To myself and those around me.



Light and life and love
Are not intangible.

They are what is most real.


It is those ideas of getting,
Of having and of holding onto,

That are delusional and empty.



We give form and substance,
We give expression to the spiritual,

In the ways we are better
Unto the least of these our brethren

And unto the least of these
Within ourselves.


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These Halls

We went to their school last evening
To see the art that lined the halls,

The creative works of kindergartners,
First, second, and third-graders.


I get a feeling when I walk those halls,
Among the many children with their families,

The kind of feeling some people get in church,
Of this as an important place

Where God’s presence can be felt
And angels do their work in many guises.



We learn the deeper lessons here,

And our successes are the sweeter for
The obstacles to our achieving them.


Cindy was voicing her disappointment in her math class.

She was talking about how hard it was
To get her special education students to get serious about

What they needed to be learning.


I said, “Have you tried telling them
They are going to need this math in later life?”

And that got a good laugh from her.



A lot of people say, “All you need to do. . .”
Who do not know what they are talking about.

Until one has faced a challenge him or herself,
One cannot know the difficulties involved

Or the depths from which one must draw
Or the fact that one can have such depth,

And this is why I say that in this place
We learn the deeper lessons.



I looked at a photograph last evening

Of a field of distant galaxies,
And I felt very small, but not unimportant.


Nothing was done just for for me,
But everything was done so we

Could walk these halls and see the art created
By kindergartners, first, second, and third-graders,

So that we could have these feelings
And know these things this way.


I know this was not done for one,
But had it been for one, alone,

It would not have been too much trouble.



From this vantage and perspective,
Our view is most spectacular.

In us these things are comprehended
In forms and ways they otherwise cannot be.


What is spectacular
Is not arrays of distant galaxies,

But the shining miracle of love
And the ways in which it can be seen

Made manifest to shine on us,
Made manifest to shine in us.



I can look upon this,
I can feel and I can know this,

But I cannot think this well.


I am not learning to look beyond.
I am learning to look at and see,

Not in distant places far away,
But in the faces in these halls with me.


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In the Same Way

The difference between a haunted house
And a house of treasured memories,

Is not a difference in the house,
But in the person visiting.


To those who are afraid to face,
Shadows lurk in every corner

And ghosts are hiding in every closet.


Such are only partly there,
Semblances of human beings,

But with very little substance,
Not really touched or touching.


We become more substantive,
As we become more fully present,

More fully a part of what we are a part of.



We nurture and we grow
Or we sicken and we shrivel.

We cannot nurture
In another place and time.

We cannot wait for very long
Or we will find the season past.


But nurturing does not hurry.
It does just the opposite.

Nurturing is patient with
Where and how you are

And never somewhere else.


It is in the here and now
We are patient with and nurture,

All choices in the past aside.


I wrote this and I know this
And I still can be impatient,

But that is where and how I am,
Sometimes, not somewhere else.



These are the little places
And the little parts

Light and love are filling.


These are titanic struggles
In our daily lives

And issues of great consequence.



Light does not triumph
Over darkness.

Light meets the need
That darkness represents.


This is how it is,
In every little thing and way,

In how we deal with self and others.

Love does not look at what is lacking.
It looks for what is needed.



Machines are becoming
Ever more efficient,

But none of us
Make good machines.


We nurture and we grow
At the same time

And in the same way.


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Clear Through

Many of the things I know,
I cannot explain,

Even to myself.



We are spoken to
And shown,

Most often,
Not with words.


Things with meaning,
Things with substance,

Most often
Do not translate into words.


This does not make these things
Insubstantial.

Our words are insubstantial
If we are not aware

Of the important and significant.



If we are not humble,
We never really

See or hear or feel.



We do not need to hear
Words spoken

From on high.


We do not need to see
Visions of a world

Beyond this one.


Whether it is God the Father,
God the Mother, Angels,

Or something else entirely,

As we learn to pay attention,
We realize we are being spoken to

And shown from all sides.



These are not answers to questions,

Not messages or explanations,
Not descriptions or predictions,

Not naming and not sorting out,
But quietly appreciating,

Feeling warmth and seeing light
And each other,

Not as means to anything.



As we learn to pay attention
To the speaking and the showing

We find we become a part of that.


Our words and actions
Speak to things and show

The important and significant,
Not as part of some contrivance,

But because they are expressions
Of that.



As we come to appreciate,

We speak and act
Out of genuine concern.


And when we speak and act
Out of genuine concern,

There is a transparancy
To our words and actions

Light can shine clear through.


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Going Through

Cindy and her brother, Mike, have been going through
The things in their mother’s house.

It has been a painful, but a healing process,
As she passed away about four months ago.


An old ceramic turkey an uncle made
Their mother would get out each year,

Old coffee cups their parents used,
Old clothing, furniture, and photographs,

Each with some association and some memory.


They have been going through those things
Others seem to want to go around,

That others are doing their best to avoid,
And so are having problems getting past.



Cindy was commenting about her brother, Mike,
On how sensitive she thought he was,

On how he took his time and looked,
Remembered, and talked about each thing,

And then decided the best to do with each.



This is a process they will be going through
For as much time as it takes,

But when they are through,
They will have gone through it.


They will treasure the pain and the healing
Of having gone through those things.

They will be grateful for the experience,
And for the time well-spent together.



I was in the middle of writing something
I later threw away,

When Cindy started talking to me about
Going through her mother’s things with Mike.


It is funny how things come to me.

I can be ponderously pondering upon,
When someone taps me on the shoulder

And I raise up my head and look and see
In actuality, what I have been searching for

In abstractions.



The meaning in our lives
Is not symbolic.

Our lives are not a reference
To something more important.



I know I have missed a lot
While I have been looking forward to.

I know I have missed a lot
While I have been getting ready for.


But I have been going back
And I have been going through those things

I once tried to go around.


I have found those things still there

And I have found riches
Just waiting for me

To come looking for them.


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Given Much

They suggested I reread Foundations.

By the time I reached the end,
I was quite overwhelmed with emotion.


I offered up a prayer,

Thanking my Heavenly Father
For giving me those words.


An answer came back to me, quite clearly,

That I had been given much,
But those words were all my own.


This statement had an impact
And a very calming effect on me.

I looked and saw and knew
I had not been given pieces,

But something whole from which
Expressions of my own now came.



When I am answered at such times,
I do not imagine it is Him,

But angels who are speaking to me.


As I begin to write, I pray for guidance,
And in response they say,

They will not tell me what,
But they will show me how.



Cindy was talking about the many kinds of demands
And the scantiness of resources

Special education teachers must contend with.


She said the situation is utterly ridiculous,

One she would not be a part of,
But for the love she feels for the children.


As I have thought about those words
These past few days, I have thought

How ridiculous our lives are, in so many ways,
And how, but for the love we feel for the children. . .



In my business and my personal life,

When I am pushed on and pulled on
And pressured from all sides,

I can get angry and impatient,
Confused and uncertain.


I find genuine concern to be
A reference point to come back to.

When I do, I offer up a prayer,
Asking that I might be what is needed,

That I might be what is best.



When I ask for information,
I find guidance leads me nowhere,

But when I ask that I might be
A source of help to others,

Miraculous things happen.


I doubt that I am telling you
Something you do not know,

For all who have ever nursed,
Cared for, comforted, and nurtured know

That when we act out of genuine concern,
We see and know and feel we are given much.


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The Miracle Worker

I watched The Miracle Worker last night again,

With Patty Duke and Ann Bancroft
As Helen Keller and her teacher.


It is a moving story of a person trapped in darkness

And of someone reaching in to find her there.
It is a story of the challenges involved in that.



I know what it is like to be groping in darkness,

To know someone is with me, but
To not understand the meaning of that.


I have been regardly kindly and with patience
As I have groped for understanding

Of what being understanding is and of
The meaning of the fact that there is meaning.



I have always been the least likely to succeed
At anything the world

Would consider succeeding at succeeding.

I have failed at almost everything, but this,
And in this too, I am unlikely, but determined.



I do not seek refuge from
Feelings that are painful to me.

These are settled and resolved in me,
Not hushed-up and put away.


Fear is not hushed up and put away,
But is resolved and settled

With patience and with genuine concern.



I am persuaded that
The healings I am praying for

Will not be accomplished
With a command of any kind.


For commanders are not listeners
And commanders are not seers,

And so have little understanding
Of how is needed to be better.



One starts with how one is
Toward oneself and others

And finds there is no end
To where that leads.



I had beaten and robbed myself
And thought I had gotten what I deserved.

Then I came to see what I had done,
Somehow, with compassion.



When I think of the Good Samaritan,

I wonder in how many ways the man he helped
Might have been made better.


I think about the ways and times
I have been sick and suffering

And about the ways I have been made better.


I think about the times
I have expected reproach

And have deserved reproach,
But have been shown compassion.


I have been encouraged
At those times, and inspired.

I have been shown
How better is.


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Exactly As We Are

Twenty-seventh podcast. Click here to listen.
Understanding does not try to make sense out of the
senseless. Understanding does not need to be agreeing
or agreed with.

Searching

By the time I was in high school,
I had been searching on my own for years.

I had looked behind and through
And under everything.


And everything was empty,
As far as I could see,

The rituals, the games, the roles.



As a child, I would take my toys apart,
Wanting to see what made them work.

The problem was,
I could never put them back together
So they would work again.


I remember my aunt and uncle,
Who were living overseas,

Sent me a key-wind race car.
It was a quality toy from Germany.


I expected there to be
A motor of some kind inside.

Instead, I found a spring
And a couple of gearwheels,

And it never worked again.


I did the same thing
In high school and in church,

And they never worked again for me.



We each must search in our own way,

But if we are not careful, we will search too hard
To ever find what we are seeking.


It used to be that nothing
Meant anything to me.

Now everything means something,
The rituals, the games, the roles.

I look with light and warmth,
And things open to me.



Sometimes,
What you are looking for

Comes looking for you.


We are drawn to each other.

Which is to say,
We all seek light and warmth.

We open to it. We open with it.



If we are wise, we are humble.

We respect and we appreciate
Things have their seasons and their times.

Things have their places and their parts,
And so do people.


People have their seasons
And their times, as well.

Time is not an obstacle.
Time is a dimension to us.



You do not hollow out
And cut away the darker parts.

You hold them, too,
As parts of your own wisdom.

You do not overlook these things.
You do just the opposite.



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When One Is Reached

Love does not make a difference
Enthroned on high.

Love makes a difference
In the midst of everything.


In the midst of failures and of failings,
In the midst of want and need,

Love shows us that we matter
And it shows us how to matter more.



I can show you things
I cannot tell you well,

And you can understand
In feeling ways and knowing.


Love raises by inspiring
The fallen to arise,

But we do not rise up over.

We rise holding in our hands
And in our arms.


We make big differences
In little ways.

In instances and moments
We shine and show.



He has put Himself in your place.

In instances and moments,
To the sick and suffering He comes,

But not as is expected.



We may be expecting light
And life and love

To come to us from way out there.


But they come to us and reach us,
They reach us and they touch us

Right here in the midst of this,
From the inside out of everything.


As you become enough
To feel and to be felt,

These things are not ethereal.
They are concrete to you.



Those whose existences are empty,
Those on the outside of what matters,

Are not in the way of something more important.


Endless efforts are made to reach them,

To touch them and to show
The difference that loves makes.



When one is penetrated,
When one is reached and touched,

A miraculous thing happens.


Life appears where
There was no life before.

Where there was only
An empty existence,

We find meaning,
Depth, and substance

Growing.


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In the Real World

This is a hard time again
In dealing with business matters,

But it is my business now
And I deal with things as I think best.


It seems, sometimes,
Like I cannot buy or sell a thing,

But in more important ways,
I am far from empty-handed.


I can get angry and impatient,
Confused and uncertain,

But I have a place to turn
And a place that I return to.


Years from now,
These troubles will not matter,

Except in how I handled them.


And I will have this then,
In which I have laid up my treasures

And offered them as gifts to you.



The material is less substantial
Than we are used to thinking,

And the spiritual, more concrete.


How we are is all we truly have,
And each other.

This does not make us poor,
But rich beyond all measure,

For we are sources, not receptacles.



If I only wrote
What I was certain of and perfect,

I know very little would be written.


But in the course of these ramblings on
And this going ahead,

There are arrivals at
I could never have foreseen.


We cannot anticipate,
Except in vague imaginings,

The fulfillment and the joy
Of our arrivals at these ways of being.


These are not brought to us.
We come to them.

We come to shine
In the midst of darkness

And for its benefit.



There are no enemies here.

There are only those in need
And those who can help.


We are all in this together.

There is no place else
For us to go,

But more fully here
And better for us all.



How will we transform the world?

I cannot say, exactly,
But the course of love is clear,

And I know there is no other way.


Love goes ahead and tries to help,
In spite of all uncertainties,

And in so doing, shows itself.


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The Time It Takes

As I come to be more present,

I discover more is present
Than I realized before.

I discover more are present.


We do not need
To quote scripture to each other.

We need to be able
To look each other in the face.


Benevolence is not afraid to look
Because it knows how it looks.

As we become more that way,
We are less afraid to look

Upon more and more.


We do not quote scripture to each other,

But we understand, at last,
What the scriptures are about.



It is easy to become preoccupied
With religious abstractions,

But where what matters shows
Is in instances and moments.


A smile, when there is love in it,
Can make the battered better.

A little help with this and that
Can shine for all eternity.



This is not a game,
But a progression and unfoldment.

We are not puppets and we are not pawns.


We will be wrong at times,
In wonderful ways,

But this is not foolishness or failure.



I am no longer on a tightrope walk.
Humility has broadened the way.

Every way I turn, every way
I slip and trip, there it is.


I am not acting better.
I am better than I was before,

Not better at, but better toward.



This is a puzzle and a maze of sorts,
But these are not tests we pass or fail.

These are the kind that teach us.


We learn better ways
In the midst of this.

We learn better ways
Of being here.



The distances we travel
To find these ways of being here

Are every bit as needed
As the time they take

For us to develop.


We become along the way
And in the time it takes

For us to get here.


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It Changes Everything

When things get hard,
They are not in abstract ways.

They are in concrete.



I still have a condition
That is rightly called

An attention deficit disorder.


I am often absent-minded
And forgetful.

I was reminded of this
Just the other day.


The open question is not
How could I be so stupid?

Because I know the answer to that.


The open question is
How do I regard the fact

That I can be so stupid?


How understanding am I?
How compassionate?

How critical? How condemning?


What do the answers
To those questions
Say about me?

What do I say about that?



Is this preoccupation
With things that do not really matter?


This is where I meet
And how I face.

This is how I am
To myself and others.


What could be more central?
What could be more important?

Or more concrete?



I am not overlooking
Or looking past.

I am accepting what is,
As it is, including when I do not.


It is me who changes, not things,

But when I change,
It changes everything.



Growth takes time.

It is such a simple thought,
And yet, it is so central.


We are beings
Who are becoming,

Not machines
In need of fixing.


We strike in at ourselves
And out at others

Because we know no better,
Because we are no better.


That is not a condemnation,

But a compassionate
Observation.



One might say that
Becoming more compassionate

Is like becoming more intelligent,
Because both could be said

To take more and more into account, as they grow.


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Starting Places

To have been without, then with,

Is better than
To have never been without.


There is no such thing
As wholeness.

There is more than whole
And there is less.


There is trying
To get for oneself

And the lack that represents.


There is wanting for others
And to be for others

And the blessings of being so.



There is no point to
Condemning the condemned,

No good purpose to diminishing the little.


The small make smaller
And less and less

Until everything means nothing.



Some are more than fair,
More than just,

More than is deserved.


In them and through them
More is made of everything

And all is elevated in importance.



In every interaction,
In every one of us, in every day,

In everything we do and say
Something is revealed

And something is regarded.


I worked a crossword puzzle
In the newspaper the other day.

The clue was gracefully receive.
The answer was accept.


Much is revealed in us
We would rather were not there,

But it is revealed because it is.


Even if we eliminate those things in us,

They still exist as parts of our past,
As parts of our potential, and as parts of others.



Real goodness shows in how it deals
With the least deserving of it.

It is most kind when kindness
Is most needed because it is most lacking.


In every thing we do and say,
Something of us is revealed,

And something of us is regarded.


Ultimately, it is how we regard
That is revealed.

When kindness is most lacking
In our regard, it is most needed.


How you regard that lack
Or how you regard

How you regard that lack
Are both good starting places.


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A Higher Form of Intelligence

None of us are deliberately stupid,
But all of us are stupid in some ways.

I have my strengths,
But I am stupid in more ways than most.


There is not just the fear of failure.

There are the consequences of it
And there is the shame.


I understand these things
In feeling ways and knowing

In the only way one can.



I know what it is like
To look foolish,

And to be foolish,
Time and time again.


I know what it is like
To look stupid,

And to be stupid,
Time and time again.


It is bad,
But there are worse things.


There is being hard on things
That cannot be helped.

There is beating on
The beaten down.



A person who would be hard
On things that cannot be helped,

A person who would beat on
The beaten down, is stupid

About himself and others.


That is not a condemnation,
But a compassionate observation

Regarding things that cannot be helped.



If I am unkind, it does not matter much
What else I am, because I am stupid,

Because I am oblivious
To things central and important.


Sensitivity is the result of caring.

One does not start with understanding.
Understanding comes last.

One starts with caring about.


You begin to see more,
You begin to hear more,

And you begin to feel more,
As you come to wanting to.


I am not content with being stupid
In the ways that I am,

But as I quit condemning, I quit hiding,
I quit confusing and confounding.



I am coming to regard
This foolish wretched me

With concern and with compassion.


And as I do, I see
Everything and everyone

In a different light.


One might call that light
A higher form of intelligence.


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Finding Out

I do not believe God changes things,
And yet I pray for help.

I ask for help becoming.


Of what benefit to me
Are things that are bestowed on me

Compared to things I strive and struggle for?


Had I been given more to work with,
I would not have had to work so hard.

If things had been better,
I know I would now be less so.


I do not need to be rescued.
I need to rise to the occasion.

If I succeed in my attempts or not
Is an outsider’s perspective.



Better that I make a fool of myself
With an honest effort to help

Than to hold back from
Committing myself.

I will be better in my own estimation
For doing so, regardless of what others think.


I read those words a few days ago
While I was rereading Going Ahead,

Words I had written when
I was first mustering my courage.


With little but encouragement to try,

I have tried to make something
Out of the little I have had.


It does not matter
If you think I am a fool.

It does not matter if you are right.


Within the limits of my limits,
With the little I have had
To deal with with,

I have gone ahead and tried,
And have not found, but have found out.



We are not molded.
We are not shaped from the outside.

We are given an environment,
A place with time and space for growth.

The greatest gift of all is our free agency.
Without free agency we could exist, but have no life.



Life is a gift, but one not easily given,

Because of the conditions
Required of one receiving it.


These are not imposed conditions,
Not a price that must be paid,

But conditions of the heart
That give one the capacity
To receive the gift.



We do not rise above like birds
And fly away from.

We rise above like trees
In the very midst of.


We are not trying to get away from.
We rise in the midst of this
As we become

More than just, more than fair,
More than for ourselves.


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Consequences

I was raised as a Mormon.

One time when I was twelve,
I accompanied an Elder to a member’s home.

This was called a home teaching visit.


We visited the home
Of a woman who was not an active member,

And this woman confided to us
She was struggling with not smoking.


She was trying not to smoke
Because Mormons are not supposed to smoke,

But she was not being entirely successful.


I was usually the silent partner on these visits.
I was young and usually did not have much to say,

But I was moved by this woman’s confession
And by the fact she was genuinely struggling.


I said to her that I believed
Our Heavenly Father knew if she was really trying

And that He would help, and not condemn her,
If she called on Him for help.



When we fail in our attempts to be better,

We suffer as a consequence of not being better,
But there is no condemnation
From any who are better.

We are only condemned by those who are worse.



Smoking tobacco is bad for us.
There is little debate about that any more.

If we smoke, we suffer the consequences.
We are not condemned and punished.


Judging and condemning are bad for us.
I do not believe there is any doubt about that.

If we judge and condemn,
We suffer the consequences.

We are not condemned and punished.


When we are kind and loving,
When we are generous and forgiving,

We are not rewarded for being so.
We enjoy the rewards of being so.



My little girl, Leila,

Had painted her hands black
With some kind of marking pen.


It took a while for her to tell me
When and where, I guess

Because she was afraid
Of being punished.


I never understood why she did it,

But I told her, “Don’t do that again.
It’s hard to wash off.”

And she said, “Okay.”


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What Can I Do?

Twenty-sixth podcast. Click here to listen.
I ended up sleeping out-of-doors, waiting for instruction,
waiting to be moved, waiting for something to be done,
that was up to me to do.

Our Horizons

I fall short every day
Of what I want to be.

It would only be sad
If this were not so.


We are trying to be better

Or we are giving up,
More and more each day.



I fall short of the progress
I want to make each day,

As my horizons grow.


Each day I discover
I have farther to go

Than I knew the day before.


This is not discouraging.

Discouragement is thinking
There is no place left to go.


These “places” we are going
Are actually ways we are going,

Ways we are coming to be.



If we are making progress,
We are becoming better

Toward and for each other.


There is nobility in this,

For nobility is not realized
As an ultimate achievement,

But in our strivings to be better,
In spite of all our failings.



You reach a point
Of just a few thing left

You are withholding
Your compassion from

In those around you
And in yourself.


As you find compassion
For those things too,

Things begin to seem,
In some way, more transparent,

And you begin to see
What is behind them.


The finding of compassion
Is a changing in regard,

Away from shoulds and shouldn’ts
Toward acceptance of what is.


You stop saying to yourself,
I should or shouldn’t feel.

You stop thinking to yourself,
They should or shouldn’t be.

And you begin to see
The whys, instead.


Things begin to seem, somehow,
More flexible and responsive,

As you become, somehow,
More flexible and responsive,

More sensitive and feeling.


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Answers

I thought there were questions
I needed answers to,

But I am finding
Something more important.


I have found it in my hands
As I have opened them

And looked at what is there
More gently.


What shrinks from a judge
And a master over,

Opens to warmth and light.



There had long been a part of me

Cowering in fear and shame,
Hiding from the part of me

That looks on with disdain.


I had felt the rumblings
And I had heard the cursing,

But I had not really known
What the fighting was about.

I know now I was afraid to really look
Because of how I looked.



When one sees the symptoms
Of an illness, what is one to do?

What if the illness
Is a self-destructive one,

An illness of your own making?


You can look upon with disdain,
And be completely justified in doing so.

You can be a judge,
With rightness on your side,

Correct in your condemnations.



Verdicts are the logical conclusions
Of what leads to them,

But there are other things.


There is humility
And the seeing and the feeling

It makes possible.


There is seeking
After warmth and light

To the point one must become
A source of them.



There is striving to be better
For the benefit of all

In the midst of and in spite of
One’s own unworthiness.


There are the fruits
Of genuine concern

And the gratitude
One feels for them.



Love does not command.

It speaks to in ways
One only can who listens first

And hears.


Love does not manipulate.

It wants what is best for.
It calls forth what is best for,

And what is best in us answers.


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You Cannot Stop

I dreamt
That while looking through a newspaper

I came upon a large picture of myself.


Every expression
With which I studied this picture

Became my expression in it.


When I awoke, I asked,
“What did this dream mean?”

I was answered,
“However you look at yourself
Is how you are.”



Look inside, and all you will find
Is you looking inside,

And the feeling
With which you look
Is the only feeling there.


You can look
With kindness and respect
Or without.

You can look
With compassionate regard
Or without.


Deciding how
You want to look

Does not make it so,
But it is a start.



As long as you are looking
With a critical eye

At your looking with a critical eye,
You are looking with a critical eye.


As long as you are trying

To stop looking with a critical eye,
It is just more of the same.


As soon as you start

To look at what
You are doing to yourself

And your inability to stop

With compassion and caring,
You will have stopped.


Not once and for all,
But over and over again.



You cannot stop condemning yourself
As long as you are condemning others.

You cannot stop condemning others
As long as you are condemning yourself.


Forgiveness of oneself
And forgiveness of others,

Neither can come first,

But are found as one
By those who seek forgiveness

As a state of being.



We do not learn to forgive all at once.
We learn to forgive little by little

And step by step.


We are inspired to forgive
And we aspire to forgive,

And when we fail to forgive,
We must simply

Try again.


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What Is There To Fear?

What is there to fear?

A weeping, if ever started, that will not stop?
An unraveling, if ever started, that will not stop

And will not go back together?


An anger, if ever given voice,
That would rip and tear and destroy everything?

Or what I believe is an ugly truth about myself
I simply cannot face?



I write as I arrive and I arrive as I write

And I am now arriving at a point and place
Where my darkness can be regarded

With compassion and not condemnation,
With concern for and not fearfulness of.


There is a part of me that is uncaring,
A part of me that is condemning.

I cannot make this otherwise
And I am coming to accept this fact.


I am ceasing to think
I should be able to make this otherwise,

And as I do, there is a tension being relieved.



I accept that part of me for what it is,
An uncaring and condemning part,

And as I cease to struggle with it,
As I cease to strive against it,

I see it is just a little part of me,
Not the monster I have imagined it to be.


It is one element and aspect of me.

The kind and loving part of me
Shines upon this other with acceptance,

Not with a compulsion and insistence
It must be made to be other than it is.



I had a dream many years ago
In which I was being chased

By some vague, but fearful specter.


I turned and faced the thing
And wrestled it to the ground.

Somehow, as we wrestled, it changed
From something big and fearful

To something I felt compassion for.



There has been this deep dark secret
I have been afraid to face,

The fact of my unworthiness,
The reality of my worthlessness

In my assessment of myself.


The fact that part of me does not like,
That part of me does not love,

That part of me does not accept
And does not respect me,

Despite my best efforts
To make this otherwise.


Now I discover there is no way
And there is no need to make this otherwise

And the belief that I must, somehow,
Has been the real source of my torment.


I can now regard that part of me
Lovingly and with forgiveness

And not be disappointed when
It is not transformed, as a result.


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What Is Best

Caring is wanting what is best
And doing what is best

For oneself and others.


What is best for you
Will not be otherwise for others.

What is best for others
Will not be otherwise for you.


Wanting what is best
Without doing what is best,

Is not caring. It is wishful thinking.



Most of us think
We know better than we do.

Most of us think
We are worse than we are.


We can bind ourselves
And blind ourselves with thinking.

When we involve ourselves
With others, we involve ourselves

In realms of feelings and of things
In which the spiritual is more concrete.



What is best is seldom simple.

It is never quick and never easy,
But it is patient,

And it needs to be.


It is wide and it is deep,
But it is not an empty space.

The meaning in it is not hidden,
But there is so much of it,

One cannot sort it out.



Autumn told me I needed to relax,
And she was right.

I had opened up so much
And I had opened to so much,

I did not know what to do
With it all or with myself.


With patience and with time

I have learned humility
And I have learned benevolence.



All fear harsh judgement.
All shrink from it and in its presence.

Its flaming sword reduces
Everything to nothing,

Including him who wields it.


Benevolence knows things take time,
Especially important things.

Gardens need warmth and light
And water, not questions and answers.



As you concern yourself
With the well-being of your neighbors,

As you involve yourself in helping,
You become ever more benevolent,

And as you do, things open to you
In ways that require no sorting out.


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How To Matter More

“What is one to do?” Tom asked me.

“We cannot know anything with certainty,
And yet we feel these desires to be better,

And we love in ways that defy Darwin’s theories.”



There is something more than knowing.
There is not knowing and still trying.

There is not even knowing how to try
And trying just the same.


There is concern for one another.

There is wanting to help and willingness to try
And trying even though you don’t know how.



People talk about
The price Christ paid for us.

There are ways in which
I believe that is true

And ways in which I do not.



It is undoubtably true
We pay prices for each other

To learn, to grow, and to develop.


Others have paid prices
For my ignorance and confusion.

Others have paid prices
For things I had to go through

And grow through.


Others suffered
Because of things I failed to be,

Because of things I was not yet.



These debts are of a kind
I cannot repay.

These are things
One cannot make up for.


If others find it in their hearts
To forgive me,

If they are understanding,
I am all the more indebted.



I am taught by such examples,
And so, I owe them that much more,

But if I have only learned one thing
It is that generosity of spirit enriches a person.


Kindness and what is behind it
Elevates all things in importance.

Kindness shows us that we matter
And it shows us how to matter more.


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Your Own Way

Why turn the other cheek?
Why go the extra mile?

Why love your enemies?


Not because you should.
Not because it is right.

But because it is best
And because it helps.


What is good is good,
Because it is good,

Not because it is right.


What is bad is bad,
Because it is bad,

Not because it is wrong.


Some ways make us less
And some ways make us more.

Some ways lead to growth and development.
And some ways lead to sickness of the spirit.


Sickness is not bad
Because someone says it is.

Growth and development are not good
Because we are supposed to grow.



I believe the concept of thou shalt
Is a problem of translation

Because it is meaningless to command
What cannot be done upon command,

Even if one wants to.


Thou shalt love...

You cannot do it on command,
Even if you want to.


If I say to you, “You shall love.”
I could mean, “You will love.”

It is not then a command.
It is a blessing and an invocation.



Thou shalt go north.
Could be a translation

Of directions north.


Love is a direction.

It is an orientation, but
No one can set you

Straight on it.



You cannot be coerced to love,

But I believe that way
Will be of your choosing, someday,

Because there is no other way
That leads one anywhere.



When you set your heart
Upon that path,

When it becomes
Your heart’s desire to love,

Not even you
Can keep you from it,

Because at every turn,
You will turn that way

And move in that direction.


You will not need to know how.
You will not need directions.

You will find your own way to it.


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All Will Be Well

I get past my fear
Of being inadequate

By accepting that I am.



I am in a process
Of discovering.

I am in the middle
Of uncovering

With honesty
And truthfulness.


It is not like
I have been lying.

It is like I have been hiding,
Like I have been hushing up.



I did not know
How strongly I felt,

Until I started voicing it.


I did not know
What it was I felt,

Until I started acting on it.



I have been learning
To trust myself.

I have been learning
The truth about myself.


As I have,
I have been finding

There is nothing in the truth
I need be fearful of.


The truth is powerful,
But it is powerful for good.

Which is to say
That it is good for all,

And what is there to fear
In what is good for all?



There is a contest going on,
A battling of light and dark,

A struggle that is within me.


On the one hand are my weaknesses
And my condemnations of them.

On the other hand are my strengths
And my forgiveness of all.


It does no good to condemn myself
For wrongs I do unto myself,

But good does come from forgiving
The wrongs I do unto myself.


How else shall I be whole,
But by means of love?

How else shall I be whole,
But with compassionate regard?



Yes. I am inadequate.
Yes. I am not equal to the challenge.

Yes. I am not good enough.
Yes. I am not strong enough.


And I am not patient enough
And I am not kind enough

And I am not forgiving enough.


And all of that be true,
But if I love enough,

Then all will be well.


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Much Of Little

Twenty-fifth podcast. Click here to listen.
I have been told I have made much of very little.
I guess this is because I have kept finding
more and more to care about.

In the Smallest and Most Everyday

What have you made
Of what you have?

You can only make the same
Of more.


Make the most
Of what you have,

And there you will find
Unlimited resources.



Those who do not appreciate
What they have

Are ever impoverished,
No matter how much.


Those who do appreciate
What they have

Are ever enriched,
No matter how little.



Those who do not appreciate
Themselves and others

Are oblivious to all,
But things,

And all to them
Are things.


When such wield power,
Great or small,

It is without regard
For what it is like

To be subjected
To their treatment.



When Christ was crucified,
He did not curse his executioners.

He prayed, “Father, forgive them,
For they know not what they do.”


Many others have done
As Christ did,

And blessed
Their oppressors.


You can do as Christ did,
In your daily life.

In so doing, you can be
An example to all,

But none will benefit
So much as you.



It is not what we are given
That determines,

Not what we have to deal with
Or what we have to deal with with.


Within the limits of our limits,
With the little we have to work with,

Sometimes, with only words, we create.


We make things matter with concern,

And as we do we show and we see
The most important

In the smallest and most everyday.


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How Little We Know

Religious leaders with perfect faith
Who never doubted or despaired

Are fictions of their followers,
Perhaps well-meaning,

But misguided.


The example of such a leader
Would be meaningless

To creatures such as us
Who cannot be perfect and

Should never be certain.



There is no vision so clear,
No revelation so complete,

That no room is left for doubt.


Even Jesus Christ had doubts,
Was acquainted with grief,

And knew despair.


Those who would argue otherwise
Would diminish the relevance

Of his example to us.


What need has one of faith
Who is all-knowing?

What need has such
Of courage?


What use could an example be,
To creatures such as us,

Of one who is all-powerful?



If we attach our faith

To what we think we know
And what we think we understand,

It is misplaced.


It is frightening to recognize
How little one can know.

When faced with this, most retreat
Into familiar territory.


It has been the faith of those

Who have faced the unknown
And the unknowable
With courage

That has inspired me.


Not those who have maintained
They are certain

When no certainty is possible.



We go ahead and help others
In spite of uncertainty

And in spite of failure
And find we can walk on water.


We look upon the needs of others
With compassion and concern

And find we can feed the famished
Out of the little we have

As it then multiplies.



We may not be able to heal at once,
But with love for one another,

All are made more and better
And there is nothing more miraculous

Than the ways in which this happens.


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Wanting To Know

A homeless man
Came into the jewelry store

Where I am working now
And we talked.


He had some scarring
About his face,

And his manner suggested
He may have had a brain injury.


He was very childlike.

At one point, he started telling me stories
He thought would interest me

Because I work in a jewelry store.


They were stories of him finding
Gems and gold out west,

But it wasn’t what we talked about
That mattered.



He had come in
On some kind of errand,

But in his pack he could not find
What he wanted me to look at.


Then he said,
“Will you talk to me some?”

And I said, “sure”
And sat down with him.



There is no moral
To this story,

And not much else to tell.


He wanted to know
How things were going for me,

And I wanted to know
The same thing about him.



Gary Larson used to create
The Far Side cartoons,

And I loved them.


In one there was an inventor
Wearing this device

That translated dog barking
Into human speech.


All up and down the street
One could see the dogs

Were all saying, “Hey.”
To each other.


In more complex ways,
Much of human speech

Could be translated to say
The very same thing.

We just don’t understand it.


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From the Inside Out

Living breathing love

Meets living breathing
Need in me.


I am in all of these parts,
But in none of them completely.

I can identify with each,
But no one is completely me.


I am all of them and more.
I am both sides of each division.

I am every part of this tangled knot.


I am not rushing
Toward a conclusion.

I am approaching it slowly.



I am reading Kim by Kipling again
For the first time in many years

And I am enjoying it immensely.

Kim’s lama loves him, in spite of himself,
In spite of his desire to have no desires.



There are all of these things
Along the way,

And all of these people.


None of them obstruct
What all of them are parts of.

No one leaves another behind.


We rise as one
Like the Himalayas.

What does it matter
If we take eons to arise?



Salvation is not
Worked out from above,

But with the taste
Of dust in one’s mouth.


This taste is not spit out.

It is understood
In feeling ways

And knowing.



Love accepts what is,
As it is,

And in so doing,
Changes everything.


This is enough
And more than enough.

This is fulfillment
From head to foot.


This is light shining
From the inside out

Of everything.


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A Secret Life

There is a secret life I lead,

A life of purpose and meaning,
That is not apart from this one.

This one is a part of it.


It is a life in which I pray and seek
And feel and touch.

It is a kind of secret life because
I do not discuss it much,

Except in this way.


It is like another dimension,

Another dimension of me
Extending out and in.



I cannot find anything
That does not matter.

This charges everything
With meaning.


As a result, I am better
And I am worse,

But I am not less.



You can be told about compassion,
But until it is shown to you

And you see it and you want it
For yourself and others,

You do not have the capacity for it.
There is not that dimension to you.


In that dimension,
All things exist as they are

And you exist as you are with love.



I have dishes to do now,
Because the dishwasher is broken.

I have picking up and straightening to do.


I have errands to run
And some yard work to finish.

While that life goes on,
This secret life goes on, as well.


The more important this life becomes,
The more important that one does.

I am able to reach with it, touch with it, and show.



All I have is a little time
And a few words to show you with,

How kindness is brought forth
And to what purposes.


The dishes and the house,
The errands and the yard work,

Are for the benefit of my family,
And are otherwise of no importance.


In service to our Heavenly Father,
In service to His children,

The everyday is made important.



Kindness is not a promise
Of goodness to come.

It is the promise
Of goodness fulfilled.


It does not exist
As a means to an end.

It is not something we can do without.


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A Part Of

Caring is shown in concrete ways,
Each one an example

Of how God is and how we can be.


Each and every thing becomes endowed
With significance and meaning.

Every thing we do and how we do
Becomes of more and more concern.


If we are not caring in a thing or way,
It is another opportunity

To try to understand and act in ways
That meet the lack and need

With what is lacking and what is needed.



There is no shortage
Of rightness in our thinking,

But of kindness in our dealings.


When we recognize this,
We must meet this lack with what is lacking,

Or we make nothing more or better.



Rightness thinks it knows
What they deserve who are in the wrong,

And does not know how wrong it is,

But there are others who know better.
There are others who are better.



I was back in Wyoming,
But with everything messed up.

I was living in my car, but I made friends
With this couple who would come to see me.


One day I was riding with them
And they pulled into a drive-thru restaurant.

He asked me if I wanted anything, and I said, “No.”
She said to him, “I don’t think he has any money.”

And he said, “I’m the same way when I’m broke.”


The truth was, I was hungry,
I was broke, and I was embarrassed by my condition.

They bought me a meal, and I have never forgotten it,
Though that was more than thirty years ago.



I have been feed at times
I was so poor I could not acknowledge it.

I have been helped to be better
In so many ways that now it is my turn to help.



My angels lead me into places
Where I fear to tread,

Into writing of things that are painful to me,
Saying they are for and with me.


I guess you could say
That we seek out the shaky ground,

The unsettled and unresolved,
The places where more light is needed.


It do not believe I scale these heights
And plumb these depths without good reason.

I believe I do this for the best reason of all.


I may not know my part,
But I have no doubt of what I am a part of.

I am a part of all who are in service to His children.


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No Place Else To Go

What looks like strength
Turns out to be

A fearful kind of hanging on.


Real strength is kind and gentle,

Is understanding toward
And forgiving of.


If I force myself to loose my grip,
It is just another kind of hold.

If I can lovingly regard
My fearful predicaments,

Then the stronger part of me
Can help the weaker part.



A part of me
Is the prodigal son.

A part of me
Is the brother who mutters
At my wanting to come home.


The part of me
That is most confused

Does not even know it
And sits in judgement of me.


It is in the gentler part of me
That my real strength resides.

It is in that part of me that loves
The judging, unforgiving, part.



I find myself in tears
And on the verge of them

In recent days.


These are not tears of sorrow.
These are not tears of joy.

These are tears because there is
Such love as I feel.


These are the tears one sheds
When prayers have been answered.

These tears are the tears one sheds
When hopes have been fulfilled.



It concerns me some may think
I am especially good or gifted,

When the truth is I have just been
More desperate than most.


I have received, because I asked.
I have found, because I sought.

It has been opened to me, because I knocked
And knocked and knocked

And would not go away,
Because I had no other place to go.



There is an irony
In how our weaknesses

Become our strengths
With honesty about them.


There is an irony
In how amidst our fears,

We find our faith in facing them.


We do not find a faith
That makes us fearless,

But a faith that makes us loving
In the face of fear.


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Pearls

Twenty-forth podcast. Click here to listen.
It does not matter if I cannot see where my little steps are leading,
if I simply choose the better half in every little instance.

Realities and Fantasies

I remember the first time
I kissed a girl.

It was not at all
Like I expected.


There was no
Crescendo of music,
And there were no fireworks.

It was not at all
Like it had looked in the movies.



That is the difference

Between flesh and blood
And imaginings.


That is the difference

Between realities
And fantasies.


Flesh and blood
Is warm and soft,

And realities
Have depth.



The fantasy
Is out there somewhere.

The reality
Is here and now.


The fantasy
Is being crowned

And a royal mantle
Placed upon you.


The reality
Is far more noble

Than receiving a reward.



What is gilded shines
About one micron’s depth.

What shines through
From the inside out,

Achieved by great effort
And at great cost,

Is infinitely more.



It has been a revelation to me
How personal this all is,

How much creation is about
Individuals caring.


It has been a revelation to me
How difficult this all is,

How much creation is about
Individuals giving of themselves.



We do not know
How much we have to give

Until we do.


We do not know
What we are becoming

Until we do.


We are revelations
To ourselves,

As well as to each other.


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Secret Signs

My dad grew up
In the Great Depression of the 1930s.

In those days, I understand,
Homeless men would ride the rails,

Hitching rides in railroad boxcars.


It was not uncommon
For such men to ask for food

And hope for charity.



My dad has told me
Of sitting on the porch

Of his family’s home
In Clearfield, Pennsylvania.


From that vantage point
He could see a good distance

Down the street on which they lived.


He would see
One of these men coming,

Walking up the street,
Passing every other house

Until he came to theirs.


At his house, the man would knock
On the kitchen door and ask

If he might have a meal.


At my dad’s house,
Such men were never turned away.

His mother would feed the man
And his father might produce an old coat

Or pair of shoes or such.



As a boy, my father
Did not think twice about

His parents’ charitable natures,
But there was something else

He wondered about.


He wondered how these men knew

To come to their house,
Instead of any other on their street.


He told me he would carefully watch
As they came up the street.

He watched to see a sign
Of them taking notice of some sign

Others had left to indicate his house.


He would walk the street, himself,
Looking for some secret sign,

Some secret hobo code,
But he could never find one.


It was one of his boyhood mysteries.
Was there a sign he could not see?

Or was notice somehow posted
In the railroad yard or down the tracks?

Or did these men just pass the word along?



However it happens, it is true
That when you care about people,

They come to you or they are somehow brought.


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On the Brink

We cannot feel but incomplete
As long as there are aspects of ourselves

We are not accepting.


As we do accept and heal,
We feel the strength within us grow.

We cannot help but then extend this unto others,
For caring is the very essence of it.



I am now finding compassion for
The last person on Earth

I was withholding it from,
And for my doing so.


It changes nothing
And it changes everything.



I have always written
From my experience,

But now it feels as if
My writing has caught up with me.

It feels as if I am now writing
At the edge and on the brink.


I cannot say exactly
What I mean by this,

Because I do not know
Exactly what I mean.


It is a sense I have,
A way things feel,

And so I say
That now it feels

As if my writing has
Caught up with me

And I am writing at the edge
And on the brink.



At the edge
And on the brink of what?

I believe it is compassion,
With a surprising dimension to it.


Though I guess it should not be surprising
When the reality of a thing

Is quite different from
The contemplation of it.



Compassion is an arriving at a place
That is no other place at all,

But me no longer separate from
Myself, my feelings, and my experience.



So now I am to make decisions,
So now I am to make my choices,

Based on how things feel to me?
Based on what I care about?


How is this different
From common sense?

Or is it not, but I have been
Somehow lacking in it?



Is this nothing more than caring?
Is caring nothing more than this?

Is this what feeling what I feel is like?
Is this being what I am is like, with love?


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The Creatures We Are

Twenty-third podcast. Click here to listen.
But it was not that long ago there was very little going on
in this same skull and life, but giving up and sinking,
until I got up and tried again.

Shields

I heard a preacher on the radio

Detailing at great length
The qualities of “harlots.”

That evening I happened to see
A program about “exotic dancers.”


This morning as I thought about
These two very different perspectives,

I thought about Jesus and
His conversation with the prostitute.

I thought about his compassion for her.
“You have been more sinned against than sinned.”



These preachers talk about
Putting on the armor of God.

They talk about helmets,
Shields, and swords.

They talk about
Protecting themselves from sin.


Those who are converted
To this way of thinking,

Are then put on their guard,
Protecting and preserving

A false idea of righteousness.



A pool of water

Surrounded by embankments
Cannot be kept clean.

Debris blows in from all directions
And algae naturally grows.


You can skim it constantly,
You can vacuum from the bottom,

You can even treat it chemically,
To keep the water clear.


The best result you could expect
From such vigilant attendance

Would be a sparkling clean
Pool of stagnant water.


You are more likely to end up
With algae in your pool,

With leaves floating on the surface
And debris resting on the bottom,

Because no one can maintain
Such vigilance for long.



There is another way, of course,
A way not self-protective,

A way of looking
At others and their needs.



Use the water you are
To wash the wounds of others,

To quench the thirsts of others,
To cool their fevered brows.


As you do, you will discover
You are a fount, and not a pool, of water.

As you do, you will discover
The free flow of your outpourings

Results in a kind of clarity
Safeguarding never can.


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Adding To Creation

We form from clay
And breathe life into.

We make important.

We instill
Significance and meaning.


Love appreciates

And elevates
In importance.


Disdain empties
And reduces

In one’s heart.



Good will grows.

How it grows
Is a mystery to me,

But so are other kinds of growth.


We do not harness
And we do not ride.

We are parts of what is growing.



We are not mere witnesses.
We are participants in creation.

We are not in the way of
Something more important.



What enables you, requires you.

You do not care because you should.
You care because you are able to.


What enables us to reach others
Is not a straight and narrow road,

But ways in which we all trail off
In many different directions.


Those winding paths of ours,
Those gnarled and twisted parts of us,

Are the branches that bear fruit.



I used to prune to perfection,
But there was not much left.

I find now there are no parts
I want cut off and cast away from me.

In them I breathe. In them I exist,
And in them I grow.



Cindy teaches children
Who have problems learning,

And many other kinds of problems, too.


Getting them to try again,
Despite their past failures

And their present difficulties,
Is not half the battle,

But it is the start.


Behind the lessons,
There are other lessons.

Behind her efforts,
There is light and warmth.


She reaches them in little ways.

She touches them
In instances and moments.


She is adding to creation.
She is nurturing the growth of it

In the only places
And parts of it that matter.


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Blessings In Your Life

Cindy teaches special education.

There is one week left
In this school year.

Last week they read an essay
In one of Cindy’s classes.


The essay had been written
By a young woman,

A recent High School graduate,
Who had been in special education.


She wrote of her feelings about it,

And Cindy said that all of her students
Were intensely interested in the discussion,

Even those who did not participate.



Their feelings about
Being in special education

Are something they rarely talk about.


It was a big thing for that young woman
To write that two page piece.

It helped Cindy’s students
In some big ways.


Who else could really understand
Those feelings,

But someone who has had them?



She had experienced the feelings
Of someone who needed special education.

She had looked at them with open eyes
And with an open heart,

And she shared about them in the same way.


She wrote, “I love special education.”

“I could raise my hand and ask a question
And not feel stupid.”



No one is deliberately stupid,
But all of us are stupid in some ways.

I know what that feels like,
More than most.


I understand such things,
And I thank God for that understanding,

Though what has made it possible
Has been hard things.



Because of where you are
And because of where you have been,

You will be able to reach others
And to help others

Who are in those places.


When you find yourself
In the midst of difficulties,

It may be because
You are needed there by others.


It may come to pass

You will be most grateful
For those difficulties in your life,

For the opportunities they make possible
To be a blessing in the lives of others.


For there is no greater blessing than that.

No greater blessing than to be a blessing
In the lives of others.


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Acceptance

Twenty-second podcast. Click here to listen.
It is a funny thing about acceptance.
You can’t get it from the world for all the world,
but you can give it to yourself and others.

How To Answer

Shakespeare wrote,
“All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players...”



I was once brought to recognize
What I can only describe as

A body of feelings.


It was a body of feelings I had

As a result of a body of experience
I had as a child.


It was remarkable to me,

Having spent so many years
Contemplating the spiritual,

I had never noticed this huge thing
That had always been with me.



There was nothing
To be done about it,

But to feel it and to weep,
Out of sorrow for the pain of it.



Having felt it, knowingly,
And having wept over it, it seemed

As if a spring had unwound
I had kept wound tight.


It was the stiff upper lip
Of a little boy who was tough,

Because he once had to be.


He had steeled himself against
What was painful to him,

But now he could feel it
And discover

He would not perish
In the midst of it.



We all have these sorrows
And these pains.

I do not say this
To diminish their importance.


Just the opposite.
There is nothing more important.


These sorrows and these pains
Are the sources of true wisdom

And the bedrock of compassion.



The drama behind this drama,
The reality behind this reality,

Is not a puppetmaster
Or a puppet.


It is one who suffers.
It is one who feels pain,

One who anguishes and strives.



He is not learning how to deaden.
He is not learning how to still.

He is learning how to feel
And he is learning

How to answer.


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Cardboard Characters

Some regard others
Like cardboard characters,

And so feel free to target them.


Not even those who do this,
But especially those who do this,

Are in need of our compassion,

For they are not cardboard characters,
And none are meant for target practice.



As you find compassion
For more and more,

Things begin to seem
More transparent,

And you begin to see
What is behind them.


You stop thinking so much,
They should or shouldn’t be.

And you begin to see the whys, instead.



It is hard to honor cardboard characters.
It is hard to honor those

We look at in that way.


We do not know
The way things are for others,

Because we barely let ourselves
In on how things are for us.


We occupy ourselves, instead,
With thinking of how we ought to be,

Instead of about the way we are,
Instead of about the way things feel.



We can learn compassion.
It comes to us naturally.

Compassion comes when we will let it,
But it always comes as a surprise.


We cannot know all we lack,
Until we do not any more.

We cannot know how flat and empty
We have been, until we are filled.



Blame is laid in two dimensions.

With it we look at what and how.
With love we look at who and why.



If we wear out and get full measure from,
If we extract all of the juices from,

We have used things as intended.


If we discard what we have barely opened,
If we dine upon, but then do not digest,

We do no honor to the gifts
We have been given.



We are not poor for lack of abundance.

We are poor and starved
For lack of honoring.


We look upon the world
With shallow eyes

And think the world
Is flat and empty.


We look upon
With grateful eyes

And see the world
Is full of plenty.


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In Upon and Out Upon

When it matters to you,
How another feels,

That is not a small thing.


There is nothing more profound.

This is to say
Nothing makes more of a difference.

All else follows.



I used to think I needed
Rightness in my understandings.

I used to think in terms of rightness.


So I understand obliviousness
From first-hand experience.

I understand being tangled
In a tangle of ideas

That matter more to me
Than things like warmth and light

And people.



Someone was speaking to me
About a woman

His son was in the process of divorcing.


I said, “I feel sorry for her.”

He said, “I don’t.
She cut her own throat.”

I said, “I feel sorry for people
Who cut their own throats.”



I understand that kind
Of darkness and confusion.

I understand what it is like
To be lost and tangled in ideas

That make one indifferent
To oneself, as well as others.


No one can explain the ways
That free us from those tangles,

But they can show them to us.



How I felt did not matter to me.
So I did not listen to myself.

I heard the cursing going on,
But I did not really know

What the fighting was about.


I felt the disturbances,
But I did not pay attention to them.

I know now, I was afraid to.


I was afraid to face
My ugly way of looking in the mirror.

I was afraid of my disdain
And so I shrank and hid from it.



Rest can be had in peace and quiet,
But discoveries and revelations

Are more often made
In the midst of where the trouble is.


In the midst of that, we see,
And in the midst of that, we show.

We shine in upon and out upon.


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Mixed Together

Retribution is not a part
Of divine justice.

Righteousness
Is its own reward.

Wickedness
Is its own punishment.



Is the desire to see others punished
For their wickedness,

A kind of wickedness,
Or just ignorance?

Is there a difference
Between the two?


Holding onto such desires
Within one’s heart,

Is holding onto darkness
And to torment.


Seeking to be compassionate
For those who seem to least deserve it,

Is a righteous endeavor,
A seeking after light,

The rewards of which
Are wonderful and surprising.



Should the prisons be opened
And the offenders set free?

Should the wicked be allowed
To rampage without consequence?

That would not be kindness
To them or others.


What if the righteous
Could be separated from the wicked?

And the wicked be allowed
To inflict their wickedness on just each other?

Would the righteous then abandon them?



These are crayoned questions,
Put down in black and white.

The reality is more
Than shades of grey.

It is colorful and wonderful,
With depths beyond description.


Regardless of the names we use,
Regardless of the words,

The reality is love,
And it is dawning on us all.



We do not go
To one place or another.

We are not just
One way or another.

We are mixed together.


Light grows
In relation to darkness

And for its benefit.


Light grows
In reaching out

To meet the need
Darkness represents.


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Ascending

Twenty-first podcast. Click here to listen.
I have been bound, blindfolded, and left,
but not abandoned, in the pit.

The Good Shepherd

Why do I confess my failures
And my failings to you?

You might think better of me
If I kept these to myself,

But in making a gift of these,

I make something else
Of my failures.


I have searched in many ways
And I have followed many paths

And I have come to many dead-ends.


Many ways do not lead to anything

Because finding truth is not
A trick of consciousness.

It is a process of becoming.


The Great Misunderstanding in religion
Is the paramount importance of Believing.

Believing is just a step. It is not a destination.



A Good Shepherd
Never stops looking for his lost sheep.

He searches in every thicket and in every bramble.


He descends into every pit

Until every single one is found,
Regardless of their belief in him or not.


A Good Shepherd uses many devices
To free us from our entanglements.

Inspiring us to believe in him
And to have faith in him,
So we will follow him,

Is just one such device.


But he never gives up,

Regardless
Of what you have been told.

It is not in his nature to do so.


He returns
Again and again,

If need be,
Until all are found.



I believe there is an afterlife
And an afterlife and afterlife,

And those who care for one another
Are bound together by their caring.


And all are bound to him
Who cares about them all,

Regardless of their caring
Or lack of it.



In all these worlds,
In all these many mansions,

He seeks and finds
The lost and wandering,

And every one found, joins him in this work.


I believe it was always meant to be this way.

For there are lessons to be learned
And there is growth to be realized

That cannot be in any other way.


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Going Ahead

I have been preoccupied,
Through most of my life,

With a search for means
With which to be of service.


I have somehow always felt
That I could help
And wanted to,

Even when the suggestion
Was somewhat laughable.


Now it starts
To make sense to me,

As a lifetime’s pursuit
Leads to something, after all.



I had a conversation on a plane
With a stranger about Passageways.

I said to her, “It worries me,
Who they will think I think I am.”

She said to me, “If you can help one person,
What does it matter what others think?”



Going ahead in spite of uncertainty,
In spite of fear, and in spite of failure,

Is the story of my life, past and present.


Going ahead in spite of looking foolish,
And in spite of being foolish, time and again,

Is the only way I have ever found
Of going ahead.



I am afraid,
But there is nothing wrong with that.

I have good reasons to be afraid.


But fear can be
A hindrance and an obstacle.

I can be paralyzed by fear,
And have been recently.



I prayed for guidance,

And the recognition of my cowardice
Was the answer to my prayer.



I saw my fear of offending others
And of disappointing others.

I was not afraid of failing,
But of failing others,

Of being too inadequate
To meet their needs.


Why are others’ needs
My responsibility? Because I care,

And because I am willing
To accept the responsibility.



I am responsible for the suffering,
Even if I am not inflicting the hurt.

Better that I make a fool of myself
With an honest effort to help,

Than to hold back from committing myself.


I will be better, in my own estimation,
For doing so,

Regardless of what others think.


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Out of the Mire

I look back
And I see things I’ve done
And people I’ve hurt,

And I wish that I hadn’t,

And my only explanation is,
I didn’t know any better.


I can think now
I should have known better,

But I did not know better then.



I can remember
The suffering of abuse

Without flinching.


But when I think
Of things I’ve done,

When others suffered
From my ill-treatment,

It is hard.



I feel forgiven,

But forgiveness
Is not enough for me.


I want others to be
Better than I was,

To sidestep, if they can,
The pits I’ve fallen in,

Or to learn of climbing out
From me, if not.



I have taken
All the worst of me
And made the best use I could of it,

And in so doing,
Have brought forth something shining
Out of the mire.



Helping people in spiritual ways
Does not need to involve

Talk about religion.


Much religious talk
Is just about being better.

The kind of talk in which
Being better is in evidence

Is not self-conscious about it,
Because it is not focused on itself.



Words that show
Kindness and concern

Can show people to themselves
In a different light.



Some of my most troubled times

Have also been my most creative
And most growth-filled.


I would not wish such times on others,

And I did not wish them on myself,
But have been grateful for them.


In my clearest moments I see

That every difficulty I have ever known
Has had within it a blessing,

A measure of growth
Or a compassion for others

I would otherwise lack.


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Countless Ways

There is no love of others
Without love of oneself.

There is no love of oneself
Without love of others,

But there are other things.



Love gives and it receives
With appreciation and recognition

Of meaning and value.


There are no limits
To the depths of love,

Because there are no limits
To the depths of us.


There is an infinite capacity
In each of us for love,

And out of that capacity
Come all things wonderful.



In our most personal relations
We can see and feel most clearly.

Without caring there are only
Empty pleasures and pains.


There is no need to search
For hidden meanings in this.

In how you deal with each,
Your meaning is quite clear.



Some believe you can part
The darkness from the light,

But darkness is not like a rotten spot
You can cut out and throw away.


The deeper you cut,
The more you find there is to cut,

And there can be no end to it.


Light regards the darkness
In oneself and others

With a compassion and a caring
That meets the need

Darkness represents.



There is a light
Shining in the darkness,

And you can be one source of it.


Every individual
Can be encouraged by you.

There is no one way of doing this,

But with caring you will do this
In countless ways.


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Endless Efforts

My son saved a baby rat
One of the dogs had caught outside.

He cared for it in every way he knew,
But in a few days, it died.


He cried and cried
For that little wild thing,

And mourned its passing.


Some might think
He made a big deal out of nothing,

But I think there is more to him
In such things

Because there is more to him.



To those who love life,
Life is given abundantly.

To those who love things,
Existence becomes

Increasingly lifeless.


Nothing is withheld from us.
All is held out to us.

Every way is tried to reach us,
To touch us, and to show us.



The Heavenly hosts
Are not enthroned on high,

Looking down on us.


They are intimately
Involved with us.

In feeling ways
They touches us

And they shows us and
We understand.



The tears love sheds

Have more meaning in them
Than a mountain of philosophizing.


The love of a boy
For a baby rat

Has more truth in it.



There is evil in the world
And it makes us unfeeling

In the name of big ideas.


We can justify not caring
In a thousand ways,

But what does that get us?
Where does that put us?


It puts us on the outside
Of everything that matters.



One might call
The outside of what matters hell,

Worlds upon worlds of empty existences.


But these are not cut off and cast away.

Endless efforts are made
To penetrate them,

To touch them and to show
The difference that love makes.


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What Is Real

Sometimes I have dreams
That are more than dreams.

They are real.


In one such dream,

I dreamt I awoke from a dream
Of my grandfather, who is deceased.


In that dream,
My grandfather had been singing;

Something I had never heard him do in life.


In my dream about that dream,
I was telling my father about

The dream I had just awakened from.


I told my father I had a sense

His dad had been trying
To tell me something.

I said to him,
“It was something about the children.”


Saying that, I was suddenly
Overwhelmed with emotion,

And the three of us embraced,
From our three respective realms,

And we all wept as we embraced,
Because the love we felt, as one,

Was so overwhelming.


What was real in that dream?

Only one thing
I can be certain of,

The feelings.



There is a certain surrender,

A certain letting go
With faith,

A kind of going ahead
And finding out in the process,

That makes creation possible.


For an omnipotent being,
Nothing is impossible,

But being careful
Is hard.


Being powerful
Is easy.

Being strong is hard.


Nurturing and not stunting,
Guiding without discouraging.

These things are hard.



I have sought and found

In dreams
That are so real

And in realities
That are so dreamlike.


I have learned what really matters
Is not what is real and what is not,

But what is good and what is not.


What nurtures, what sustains,

What gives meaning, depth,
And substance to,

And what takes away.


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Miracles

Twentieth podcast. Click here to listen.
We have been given good advice that has been
turned into a chore. Words given as encouragement
have been twisted into whips and used to instill fear.

The Wheat and the Tares

In the King James version
Of the Holy Bible,

Matthew recounts
Christ’s telling of this parable:


The kingdom of heaven is likened unto a man
Which sowed good seed in his field:

But while men slept, his enemy came
And sowed tares among the wheat,
And went his way.


But when the blade was sprung up,
And brought forth fruit,

Then appeared the tares also.
So the servants of the householder
Came and said unto him,

Sir, didst not thou sow good seed in thy field?
From whence then hath it tares?


He said unto them, an enemy hath done this.

The servants said unto him,
Wilt thou then that we go and gather them up?

But he said, Nay;
Lest while ye gather up the tares,

Ye root up also the wheat with them.


Let both grow together until the harvest:
And in the time of harvest I will say to the reapers,

Gather ye together first the tares,
And bind them in bundles to burn them:

But gather the wheat into my barns.
Thus ends Matthew’s telling of the tale.



The wheat and the tares have grown together
Side by side.

The sower of the seed arrives at harvest time
And is moved by compassion for the tares.

He stays the hand
That would bundle and burn them,

And his wishes are obeyed.


He instructs the workers
To proceed with the harvest,

Picking out each stalk of wheat,
One by one,

Taking care not to disturb
The tares still growing there.



In this field, there is not one stalk of wheat
That was not once, some way, a tare,

And not one tare
That could not yet become fruitful.



How much time
Could be too much time?

And how much trouble
Could be too much trouble

To take with such a harvest?


Those who would hasten
To bundle and burn

Might be surprised to find

Which bundles
They would be gathered in.


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For Each Other

Sometimes I feel
The weight of a mountain on me.

Sometimes I stand upon it.

Sometimes the valleys and the peaks
Are all my own.


What I try to keep at bay

Crowds in on me
And weighs upon me.

What I listen to and feel
Speaks to me and shows me.



Tearing down is easy.
Lifting up is hard,

And it is slow, but patient.


We are growing in the way
That mountains grow,

But with more strength.



There are places we reach,
But we reach them by becoming,

For each other, on the way to them.



Some things are frightening to face.
Some things are disturbing,

And understandably so.


Fear has its times and places.

With humility one accepts that fact
And does not get around, but through it.


As you do, you see
You are not encompassed by darkness.

You encompass it, and you
Accept it in its times and places, too.


These times and places
Are in you.

Parts of you extend
In all of these directions.



When you fail to deal well
With all of life’s demands on you

And dealing with that becomes a demand, too,
You can sit in judgement, never-ending,

And there are parts of you that always will.


There will always be
Dark places and dark times in you,

But in them and surrounding them, you shine.
You shine in upon and out upon.

We do this for ourselves and for each other.



This is not about
A bigger, better explanation.

This is not about some words
That are more important than others.


This is about awakening
And awakening each other.

Some kinds of words can help in this,
But it is not words we awaken to.


We awaken to each other.
We awaken for each other.

There is no other reason
And there is no other way.


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My Religion

PART ONE
A Way of Being

I believe
Christ came
To provide a way

For those who love life
To receive life
Everlasting.


He showed the way
By example,

Not a way of believing,
A way of being.



Christ provided his example,
Not for us to believe in only,

But for us to aspire
To become.



PART TWO
Along the Way

Christ said
That many things
Would be done in his name

That he would have
No part in.


That many would claim
To be his followers,

Who would know little
Of the path he trod.



Our Heavenly Father

Is more generous
Than judgemental minds
Can imagine.


Nothing
Is withheld from us

That we can develop
The capacity to receive.



PART THREE
The Meeting

I believe
Christ will come again

To lead his followers
Farther.


I believe his followers
Will then see

That he is more like them
Than they imagined,

And they,
More like him.


He, more human,

And they,
More godlike.


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Walking On Water

PART ONE
In Faith

Despite the many answers
To my many prayers,

Despite the truth I have been shown
That is, to me, self-evident,

And despite the light
That has been granted me,

I do not have
Certain knowledge.


I do not look for certainties
To hold onto.

I accept uncertainty
And have faith.


I do not allow uncertainty
To paralyze me

With the fear
Of being wrong.


I accept my uncertainty,
And I accept my fear,

And I step out upon the water
In faith,

And discover that my faith
Is more certain than all else.



PART TWO
My Confession

My failures
Have been many.

My failings
Are many still.


I wish that I were better,
So I could better be of service,

But I present myself, as I am,
Before my Heavenly Father
And before you.



I cannot be
An example of perfection,

But perhaps I can be
An example to others who have failed
And to others who have failings.

To them I can speak words of hope,
Born of personal experience.



PART THREE
A Promise

I will do my best
To keep this promise
To myself,

And to forgive
My failures
To do so.



I will not try to be
What I am not.

I will not try to be
More than I am.


I will be what I am
And what I become

And have faith
It will be enough.


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Finding Our Way

There was a man
Who set out upon a journey.

He did not know the land,

But he set out feeling optimistic
And ready for adventure.

The weather was mild and sunny,
And the road ahead was clear.


He had little need of maps, at first,
But there came a day when he felt lost.

He had not known how tangled,
How uncertain and unclear it all could be.

Ways leading on to ways he could not see,
Ways he could not reason through.


When he resorted to his maps,
They only compounded his confusion,

As it was hard for him to get his bearings
From the information they provided.


He met others in the woods
And in the mountain passes.

They had maps, too,
But he was not persuaded

They knew any better.


There came a day,
He put the maps away,

And resigned himself to being lost.


He did so with relief
And with good humor.

“I will make this place my home.” he said,
And the place was like a mountain meadow.


“I will make this place a place
Where others will feel welcome.”

“A place where other weary travelers
Can find rest and sustenance.”



He labored all his days

To make the place he was,
A place of caring and compassion,

And in that place the people gathered.


God saw this place,
And saw that it was good,

And there He came to dwell
In this place He had prepared to be prepared

To be our home and destination.


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In the Here and Now

Nineteenth podcast. Click here to listen.
So what does Heaven do with the slow learners?
Are they condemned? Are they cast off?

What You Care About

I have been a person
Who loved things.

The things I loved
Were words and ideas.


I have been a person
Who did not appreciate

The life around me
Or the life within me.



I was a person who

Did not hear others,
Did not feel others,

Did not know others.


I did not care about

What others said,
What others felt,

What others were.



I was a person who

Did not listen to myself,
Did not feel myself,

Did not know myself.


I did not care about

What I thought,
What I felt,

What I was.



I have learned

That what you care about,
You become sensitive to,

And what you do not care about,
You will be oblivious to.


What you care about,
You come to appreciate.

What you do not care about,

You never recognize
The meaning and value of.



One does not start
With understanding.

Understanding
Comes last.

One starts
With caring about.


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Healing

Those aspects of ourselves
That are sick and ineffectual,

That are disruptive and disharmonious,

Are the parts of ourselves most in need

Of our patience and understanding,
Most in need of our nurturing.



Gaining understanding
Is not the ultimate.

Being understanding is.



There are many tangles of confusion
That do not need to be sorted out.

They do not make sense,

And there is no need
To try to make sense out of them.


When we are patient with our confusions,

When we are understanding toward them,
When we care about them,

When we will hear them out for once,
They often have a way of dissipating.


These are aspects of ourselves

That are not healed
By reason or by reasoning,

But by love and caring.



As we learn to work
This kind of healing on ourselves,

We learn how to work
This kind of healing on others.


As we learn to work
This kind of healing on others,

We learn how to work
This kind of healing on ourselves.



The healing power is caring.

Caring does not dismiss pain,
Try to hide, stop, or control pain.

Caring appreciates the reality
And the actuality of pain.


The wonder and the irony
Is how often caring about, alone,

Is all that is needed to cure these ills.


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Speaking to Me

Dark soils
Are rich and fertile.

We never get away,
But grow from them.


Many things I have tried to still,
I have later learned

Were speaking to me.


Much I have tried
To put out of my mind,

I have later learned
Was showing me the way.



Our confusions and our pains
Are not to get away from.

They are to listen to and learn from,
For they tell us and they show us

Ways we need be working toward.


It is not climbing up
And over obstacles that wears us out.

It is lack of progress.
It is feeling there is no place to go.



There is not this little you

Traveling a long hard road
To a worthwhile destination.

There is this you who is becoming
More and more along the way.


We do not grow in one direction.
We grow in all directions.

We grow in our regard.
We grow in our appreciation.

We grow into loving more and more.



Growth and goodness do not need
To serve other purposes.

They are sufficiently endowed
With reasons for being.


Kindness works in ways
That are impossible.

It untangles things
That cannot be untangled.


It is not a promise
Of goodness to come.

It is the promise
Of goodness fulfilled.


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Gnarled and Twisted

At the end of my life
I do not expect to look back

And see something like perfection.


I expect to see something
Gnarled and twisted,

Like a tree or vine
That has brought forth fruit

In a difficult environment.

Something Shining

Out of ignorance

We do many wrongs
To one another

And many things
We later regret,

Unless we remain
In ignorance.


Are there those
Who were never ignorant?

Those who knew better
From the start?


If there were
Such a man or god,

He would be ignorant
Of what it is like

To be human.


He would lack in faith
And the need for it,

The need for courage,
And the need for strength.


He would certainly
Lack compassion,

Lack understanding,
And the heart for it.



Sorrows and regrets
Are part of the price we pay

For wisdom.


There are no short-cuts to it,

No way around the things
We must go through for it.



Growing is a messy business.
So is creation.

Those who think otherwise
Have never been involved in either.


When we grow,
We do not grow bigger.

We grow deeper.

This is the way I think
Creation grows, as well.


We do not fill vacant places.

We grow in places
Where there were none before.


We are not restored.
We are something new,

Something more than ever.



It is in fact and in actuality,
Goodness that shines.

It is compassion for
And kindness toward

All lacking in them.


One who had never known
The lack or need

Could never know the joy,
Could never fully appreciate

Having been without, then with,
And would be ignorant, indeed.


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An Eagle Someday

Just newly hatched,

All elbows and eyeballs,
All gangly and wobbly,

A thing of wonder,
But not of beauty.


I may be an eagle someday,

But right now I feel
Ridiculous.



More than faith is needed
To learn to fly.

Enough time is needed.


Some use the spiritual
To achieve material ends.

I do just the opposite.

I use the material
To achieve spiritual ends.


I do not stand upon the precipice
And command the wind.

I learn to appreciate my nature
And the nature of my environment.


Nothing revolves around me,
But I can revolve

And circle and soar.



Miracles abound,
But we don’t see them

If we are looking for magic tricks.


That we have existence,
Consciousness of an environment,

Self-consciousness and
So many things within ourselves,

We too often take for granted.



There are many purposes
With no real purpose to them.

There is really nothing to be gotten
And no place to be gotten to.


Becoming someone
Who genuinely cares

Is more extraordinary than
Any exercise of powers
Could ever be.



What is needed is not
Fiddling or meddling with,

But caring and appreciation,
Discernment and coordination.



We are given life,

But it is not given in exchange
For anything.


In that fact there is a mystery,
The mystery of love,

And in that mystery there is an answer.


It is not an answer to a question.
It is an answer to a call,

And it is we who answer it.


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Untangling

Eighteenth podcast. Click here to listen.
If you are unkind, it doesn’t matter much
what else you are. If you are kind, it shows
and makes all you do important.

The Giver of Gifts

Our Heavenly Father

Is more generous
Than judgemental minds
Can imagine.


Nothing
Is withheld from us

We can develop
The capacity to receive.



We do no honor
To our Heavenly Father

In hiding gifts
He has given us.


In honoring the gifts
I have been given,

I must risk the appearance
Of thinking much of myself.


I am afraid of that,

But I cannot allow myself
To be governed by fear.



In spite of my fears,
I will not shrink or hide

From the responsibility
That is mine

By virtue of the gifts
I have been given.


It is for you to judge
The value of these gifts to you.

It is for my Heavenly Father to judge
What is in my heart.



I know what it is like
To shrink and hide.

It is new to me
To know anything else.


It is new to me to speak,
To stand up and to stand forth,

To respect and to honor.



I did not know
How much there could be

To respect and to honor.


The more you respect
And the more you honor,

The more you find there is
To respect and to honor,

And the more there is to you.


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Dark Soils

These are dark soils we are rooted in
That we are just emerging from.


We are inspired to bring forth.

We are not drawn upon.
We are drawn to.


We cannot drive ourselves,
But must bring ourselves,

To being kind and gentle.


As others have shown us,
We then can show

How kindness is brought forth
And to what purposes.



There is an urgency I feel.
Because I can, I must,
While I am able

And while there is time.


This is the urgency of growth

To twig, to leaf,
To flower, and to fruit.



I do not believe He has a plan
That everything is following.

I believe He has a purpose
All things serve.


This is not to say that I believe
Everything is necessary.

This is to say that I believe
There is no thwarting of His purposes.



The belief that God wants
Everything that happens so

Is a monstrous belief
That makes a monster out of God.


I have no doubt He knew
There was bound to be a mess,

But that does not mean He made it so.



He brings us into existence,
But we bring ourselves to life.

He holds it out to us,
But we must come to it.


All that is good
Serves this purpose,

And all that is made
To serve this purpose,

In the end, is good.



We can look at our lives
And focus on the messes

Or focus on what is
Brought forth from them.


Only the youngest of children
Draw trees that look like lollipops,

Straight sticks with balls of leaves on top.

Real trees don’t grow that way,
And neither do real people.


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At the Same Time

We all labor under difficulties.
We grow in difficult conditions.

The winters here are harsh.


What hurts hurts,
And there is no way around that.

There is no explaining that away,
No insight that diminishes the pain.



I have what my doctor calls
Cluster headaches.

That means I get migraines
Every day, sometimes, and sometimes not.


There are other things wrong
With my brain, as well.

I have problems learning,
And remembering, and with organization.


One could just say I am an idiot,
But it is more complicated than that.

I am other things, at the same time.


Some parts of me are underdeveloped.
Other parts are not.

As a result, I am gnarled and twisted,
Because I keep on trying, anyway.



We feel many different things,
At the same time, and all for good reasons.

The point is not to get ourselves in line
And under control.


We are gnarled and twisted
For good reasons,

And what that shows about us,
When we can see it,

Is something beautiful.



My wife Cindy teaches special education
In a Middle School.

Driving Cindy to work this morning,
She told me a story.


“Jake” had been assigned to her class
Because of the severity of his behavior disorders.

He acted up and he acted out.
He made trouble for himself and others.


In Cindy’s class he became friendly
With a classmate, “John.”

Cindy told me that John
Has had a hard time learning to read.

He has had to work ten times as hard as others
To make any progress at all.


Jake took an interest in helping John,
And the situation has been good

For them both.



Cindy did not make this happen,
But she made it possible for both of them.

If I had to pick one of the three in this story
And say, “That is me.” I could not.

I can identify with all three. I am all three,
In different ways, at the same time.


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The Wisdom of Breathing

I have heaped scorn upon my past,
Heaped scorn upon myself.

I have felt the pain of doing so.
I have shrunk and hidden from myself.


I have looked at what was lacking,
And there was no end to it.

I have seen clear through and found
No meaning and no value.



I have learned to look
At that ugly way of looking

In a different way.
I have found compassion for it.



There are no tricks.
There are no easy ways,

No shortcuts you can take.


There is accepting that fact
And the liberation of accepting it.

There is allowing yourself time
Which is like allowing yourself air.



My dogs are driving me insane.

They make me mad, at least.
They act like dogs.



Tramping through the woods
And the field behind our house

At six a.m. in the freezing cold,
Hunting for our beagle, Boris,

Who bolted and who now
Is waking all the neighbors

With his howling,
As he chases something,

I am mad, if not insane.


Should I be feeling differently?
And if I think I should,

What then?



Boris is behaving
Like what he is, and so am I.

I am a fool, and I can’t help it,
But I am other things, at the same time.



Is there wisdom in accepting
What can’t be helped

When there is no other choice?


Yes there is.
It is the wisdom of breathing

When I can no longer
Hold my breath.


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Becoming More

Becoming is more involved
Than deciding to and doing.

How you are is the result
Of much more than your thinking.


There are many kinds of momentum.
We rarely stop or turn on a dime.

We do not control, but guide ourselves.



The more understanding I become,
The more helpful I am.

I am not a lord over.
I am a part of.


The touch with which I guide,
The ways that I regard,
Determines

The directions I am able to go.


A gentle touch is stronger,

A kind way more profound
And more effective.



One with genuine concern
Need not have an answer,

But is an answer.


Learn to be that way
And you will find

There is no end
To what that can accomplish

And there is no end to where that leads.



The question then becomes
How does one learn to be a way?

How does one become
More caring than one is?


It is accomplished
Little by little,

But not step by step.



If there were only
Logical progressions,

There would be no progression
In ways like these.


We are capable of seeing before
We are capable of being.

We set our hearts upon.
We pray for help becoming.


We reach up,
Not even knowing how,

And we become, not all at once,
But no less miraculously.



You learn to count on
These kinds of miracles.

You count on them whenever
You reach a dead end.

You count on them when logic
Can take you no farther.


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In the Eyes of Heaven

Seventeenth podcast. Click here to listen.
Some people may think I’ve lost my mind,
and it’s always possible they are right.

It Makes Everything Spiritual

You look around
And you see the need

And you do not know
If you can help or not,

But if not you, then who?


You go ahead because
You care enough to try

And because
You care too much not to try.



What is needed is not power,
But strength,

Not control, but appreciation.


Your strength is your caring,

And the extension of your strength
Is an arriving at levels of caring

That require you and enable you
To go ahead and try.



My grandfather
Did not have to be asked.

He looked for those in need.


If he ever had a vision,
I never heard of it,

But he was guided.


He was moved
By compassion.

He was led by concern.



My dad was visiting
Clearfield, Pennsylvania,

Where his parents had once lived
And where he was born.


His dad had been a mailman there,
In the midst of the Great Depression.

My dad learned from a man there, a man
Who had been named after my grandfather,

That my grandfather had helped to support
Five other families with his mailman’s wages.


Being the kind of man my grandfather was,
My dad had never heard of this from him.



I can only guess at why
My grandfather kept this to himself,

But I believe my guess would be a good one.


My guess is that he did so
Out of concern for the dignity

Of those he was helping.


Such is the nature
Of genuine concern.

It makes everything spiritual.



It is easy to become preoccupied
With religious abstractions,

But where what matters shows
Is in these circumstances

Where living breathing love
Meets living breathing need.


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Not Hidden

I know what I mean when I say with,
And I know what I mean
When I say for,

But I did not always.


There is no being with
Without being for.

I know that now,
After years of estrangement from myself.


In the midst of this, whatever this is,

And as I am, however I am,
Is the only place I can be with and for.


This should be obvious,
But it has not always been for me.

I beat at myself with sticks
For not being better, instead of starting.


There are many ways of doing that

And of continuing to
Because you are.


Love accepts things
As they are and as they were,

But it sees all in a different light.


One does not become detatched.
One does not need to.

One is not afraid to feel
Who feels this way.



I had searched high and low, repeatedly,
For my tennis shoes before I found them.

This time I am sure Cindy hid them

And then put them in the den
By the chair I had been sitting in.


I am not only absent-minded.
I am oblivious to much,

But I do not think I am alone in that.

I think I look too hard, sometimes,
But not carefully enough.



Nothing has been hidden from me.

I know that now, but still I am amazed
At how much I have not seen

Until I looked more carefully.



The mechanics and the building blocks
Of consciousness and creation

Were things I once thought I cared about.


One may come to understand such things,
But one does not care about them

And they do not care about you.



What is happening here,
What is unfolding,

Is not mechanical.
It is deeply personal.


There are everyday wonders,
Almost miracles.

There is light and warmth
In instances and moments.


There is being shown and being shown
And being whispered to by angels.

There is no proof, but there is evidence.


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An Encouragement

I was feeling weary
And discouraged,

And I prayed for guidance.


I then started reciting to myself

The story of my grandfather
That was told in Passageways:



My grandfather,
Ward Shaffer,

Was the kindest,
Most gentle man
I have ever known.


When my grandfather was a child,

His mother and father
Would bring the bundled buckwheat

From the field to the barn,
Where they had a threshing machine.


The wheat was fed
Into one end of the machine

And the straw would be ejected from the other.
The grain collected underneath.


One harvest time,
When my grandfather was still little,

His father, Joseph Shaffer,
Made him a shortened pitchfork
So he could help.


His job was to pitch the straw
Away from the machine

As it came out.


Working as fast as he could,
He could not keep up,

And as the straw piled up,
Out of frustration, he cried.



Ninety years later
He could recall

His father telling him
That he was just a little boy

And that he was not expected
To do more than he could.



It was not until that moment

That I recognized this
As the answer to my prayer.



How does one receive inspiration and guidance?
How does one become receptive?


It is really very simple.

What you seek, you find.
What you ask for, you receive.

And when you knock, the door is opened. (Biblical)


It is very simple.
That is not the same as very easy.

Some answers can take years to find.
Others come in moments.


The real question is not,
How does one receive?

But, How does one ask?

And there is only
One answer to that. You just do.


Seek Him and ask.
Voice the yearnings of your heart.

Such prayers are always answered
In wonderful and surprising ways.


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Stop and Listen

I watched a crane this morning,
Stepping slowly through the water.

I watched the care with which
He took each step and made each move.


Being still and quiet
Is not itself a virtue,

But enables us to feel and hear.



We do not prove ourselves
By flawlessly performing.

We prove ourselves worthy
By how we handle harder things.


Being perfect is impossible.
Being imperfect is even harder.

It is not harder to accomplish,
But it is harder to handle,

And things that are most hard,
Need the greatest care in handling.



Slowly and more slowly,
With greater and greater care,

In smaller and smaller things,
I am proving myself.


Not by flawlessly performing,
But by carefully stepping

Through these places
Where there is no perfection.



I watched him catching fish
And swallowing each one,

And then he caught a crawdad
And it proved to be impossible.

He struggled with it for a while
And then he put it down.



It is easy to find fault.
It is easy to find weakness.

Finding strength requires much more.


Malevolence reduces everything to nothing.
Benevolence elevates all things in importance.

This is a difference that exists not only in others.
This is a difference that exists not only in big ways.


This is a difference at the start
That determines the end,

A difference in what we seek
That determines what we find.



Feeling good is good.
Feeling bad is sometimes better.

It can be better if you value
Opportunities to learn.


Feeling bad does not mean
There is something wrong with you.

It may mean just the opposite.


It may mean that you are feeling
That something is not right.

You may be trying to swallow
What you should be spitting out.



If someone else was choking,
If someone else was feeling ill,

If someone else was in distress,
You would not tell them to be quiet.


You would stop and listen.
You would try to understand,

And then you would do
Whatever you could to help.


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In Love's Hands

Love does not straighten out.
It does not heal that way.

Love does not cut off
And cast away from it.


Love does not silence.
It listens to and hears.

Love does not put things
In their places.

It allows them the places
They occupy

And it allows them time.



Cheryl said to me,
“You don’t still feel that shame, do you?”

And I said, “Yes, I do, and I always will
In some places and some parts

And there is nothing wrong with that.”


“It is thinking that
We must be rid of things

That sets parts against each other.”



A man asked me if I had many regrets,

And I told him, “Yes, I do, but if I did not
I could not write about the things I do

And help others in the ways I am able to.



Loves holds all
Gently in its hands

And in its arms
And speaks to in ways

No stranger to could.



We are not
Encompassed by darkness.

We encompass it.


Light speaks to darkness
And is understood

As both come to know
The other is no other’s,

But is its own.


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A Higher State of Being

You are to others
As you are to yourself.

This is your state
Of being.


You cannot
Care for others

More than you care
For yourself,

Or less.



We are subjected to
The treatment of others,

And others are subjected to
Our treatment of them.


With kindness and respect
Or without,

Others have treated you
As they have treated themselves.


It takes character to find
Kindness and respect
Within yourself,

When kindness and respect
Have not been shown to you.


Recognizing and wanting
A higher state of being

Is only possible because
Of what you really are.



Out of ignorance
We do many wrongs
To one another

And many things
We later regret,

Unless we remain
In ignorance.


There is no escaping
The past.

There is only accepting
And not accepting
In the present.



Accepting yourself
As you were,

Makes it possible
For you to accept yourself
As you are.


Accepting yourself
As you are,

Makes it possible
For you to accept others
As they are.



Growth takes time,

And patience
Takes patience
To learn.


Forgiveness
Is patience
With the past.

Patience
Is forgiveness
Of the present.


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In the Company of Angels

I was first taught
We are accompanied by angels

And to call on them for help
Thirty years ago.


It took me ten years

To begin to get a sense
Of why they are there.


At first I thought

They were there
To answer my questions.


Gradually I learned

That asking them questions
I wanted answers to

Did not lead to anything.



Information is important
In certain realms, but not in these.

Direction is important,
But direction cannot be given to you.


Not even God can tell you
What will not be

Until your choosing.



I ask of the angels,
But I do not ask for answers.

I call on them for help.


I do not ask for help
In getting information.

I ask for help
Becoming.



How one can help
Another to become

Is still a mystery to me.


I know it has to do
With being an example,

With showing, more than telling,
And that is how they answer me.

They show me things.



She who nurtures and sustains us,
Does not articulate abstractions.

She shows us what is substantive.


What seems so concrete
Is nothing more than shifting sands.

What seems so intangible
Turns out to be the foundation of all.



Out of His caring,
We were brought into existence.

Upon Her caring, all of creation rests.


This is no cosmic accident,

But love
Finding full expression

In giving life to us.


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Treasure

When I was thirteen
I was given a copy of Walden.

To this day I do not know
If Mrs. Hodell gave me the book

Because she thought I would
Appreciate its message

Or because of all her students,
I needed it most desperately.



I had grown up
Without feelings of self-worth.

I was the kid
Other kids abused.


I was short, had freckles
And big ears,

And I was desperate
For acceptance.


I would do anything,
Would try to be anything

I thought
Would get me acceptance,

But never did.



When I read Walden,

It seemed as if
I had never thought before.


I saw for the first time
What it meant to search for truth,

And that first glimpse
Was like a ray of light to me.



Since that time
I have immersed myself
In many kinds of foolishness

And have plumbed many depths
Of self-degradation.


From each
I have emerged

With new appreciations
Of the challenges they pose.


I am now grateful
For the darkness I have known.

The experience has given me
An appreciation for others

I would otherwise lack.


I hope I will never forget
What it was like

To feel so lost, so unhappy,
And so devoid of hope,

So I might use that understanding
To better be of service.



In other words,

What I once considered
My great misfortune,

I now treasure.


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All We Have to Lose

A young woman,
Whose name was Amie,

Was killed senselessly
In a sandwich-shop robbery.


Her killer was soon apprehended,

And in the midst of their grief,
Amie’s parents reached out to comfort
This young man’s family,

And spoke out publicly
For compassion, forgiveness,
And their hopes for his redemption.


Thousands were inspired and uplifted
By her parents’ examples.

Their caring for all concerned
Helped hearts to heal,

Including their own.



The seeds they sowed
By these good works

Will bear fruit
For generations to come.



The generous of spirit
Are enlarged by their giving.

The miserly, diminished
By their clutching.


In the spirit,
What is kept is lost,

And what is given
Is a joy for all.



We give or we withhold
In every interaction.

All are made poorer
By what is withheld.

All are made richer
By what is given.



We deprive ourselves and each other of
Warmth and light because

We think we don’t deserve them.


The confusion that results
In this deprivation

Is a kind of false economy.


Granting only that which is deserved,

We grant less and less,
And less and less is rightly ours.



But there is something more than right,
More than just, more than is deserved.

It is not something we ask of others.
It is something we hope for them.


Bringing this forth
From ourselves for them,

We enjoy the warmth
And light of this ourselves,

And in no other way.


(Amie Montgomery, 1978 - 1997)
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Living Waters

Sixteenth podcast. Click here to listen.
A pool of water, surrounded by embankments,
cannot be kept clean.

The Truth

The truth is not
Some information.

The truth is not
Some explanation.

Not even
A perfect explanation.


The truth
Is a living reality

Which is a part
Of each of us,

And of which,
Each of us is part.



The search for truth
Is not a search for answers.

It is a search for access.


Whatever we imagine
Of the truth,

We will always be wrong,

Because the truth
Is beyond our imaginings.


If you are afraid
Of being wrong,

You will hold
To doubtful certainties

And be paralyzed
In your search for truth.


Being open, but unattached,
To varied explanations,

Allows for a kind of freedom
That makes searching possible.



You are likely to find
Things you thought were true

Are, in actuality, true
In wonderful and surprising ways.


True in ways
You could never have imagined,

True in ways
You could never have seen,

As long as you were holding
To your certainties about them.



As you give unto others
As you would receive,

You become
A source.


As a source,
You know the truth

From a perspective

You cannot know
In any other way.


You know the truth

From the perspective
Of the inside out.


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Nothing Small

Those who would be great
Are least of all.

Those who are faithful
In all the little things
Discover

There is nothing small
Or unimportant.



When you look upon
With caring and concern,

That is important.


When you inspire another,
When you offer encouragement,

That is important.



The truth is in all things,

But in the things
That are close at hand,

We can see it most clearly.


Things like being
Considerate in little ways

Are not little at all.


Things like being
Inconsiderate in little ways

Are not little at all.


Things like patience,
Things like kindness,

Turn out to be
Anything but small.


They turn out to be
So big

There is no getting to
The end of them.



Our everyday troubles
And how we deal with them

And how we deal with failing
To deal with them well

Are not just things we must get past.


These are things
We must go through,

And through them learn
And grow.


These are not tests
We pass or fail.

These are the kind
That teach us.



If all we learn
Is patience,

If all we learn
Is compassion,

These are not
Small things.


These are among
The most important things

In all of creation.


There is nothing sacred
Of which

They are not parts.


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My Foolishness

Trying to get,
Everything gets away from you.

Trying to hold on,
Everything escapes your grasp.

Trying to be certain,
Everything is doubtful.


As you become a participant
In the nurturing of life,

You become more than whole
And more than secure.

You become a source.



There is a light
Which is the light of life.

This light is not
Some distant place away.

You are in the midst of it,
And it is in the midst of you.


Life nurtures life,

As life expands
And realizes its possibilities.


Light nurtures light,

As light emerges from darkness
And realizes its nature.



I see a great work
Unfolding,

But I do not know
The means by which
It will be done.


I have no answers
And no explanations,

Only these observations
I am telegraphing to you.


The observations
Of a participant in the work,

An answer to my prayer
That I might be of service.



I have a sense

That nothing will be
As expected.


That light will not
Come down upon us,

But will emerge
From within our midst.



Who am I
To say such things?

Who am I to refuse?



I have little fear
Of being wrong,

And little fear
Of being foolish.


This is fortunate,
For I am often both,

But I do my best
To keep my foolishness
Out of this.


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Rewards and Punishments

Christ said
That we will be forgiven
To the extent that we forgive,

And that we will be condemned
To the extent that we condemn.


Perhaps this is because
Not even God can spare us

From being
What we become.



Perhaps our rewards
And our punishments

Will be this.


To be what we become,

And to be with others
Like ourselves.



If we reap as we have sown,
What could be more just?


But justice
Is not the end of it.

Justice
Is not the point of it.


Forgiveness is His to grant,
To whom all owe everything.


We do not possess

The wisdom or the right
To judge one another.

To us it is given to forgive,
For our own good.


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An Instance

One day in a first grade class,

A little girl was reprimanded
For taking other children’s crayons.


She was reprimanded sternly,
Though not unkindly,

But she was poor,
And everyone heard it.



The next day,
Another little girl

Brought this girl
A new box of crayons.



I will never forget the example
That was set for me

By that little girl
Who could look past
The shoulds and shouldn’ts

To the feelings and the needs
Of another.


I will never forget
That moment.

It seemed as if
The world stood still,

As the light within
That little girl
Shone.



Our lives are made
Of little instances

And of little opportunities.


We can make much
Or little of them,

As we choose.


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Meaning, Depth, and Substance

Before I met my wife Cindy,
And for some time after,

I was always on my way
Somewhere.


We each must search
In our own way,

But if we are not careful,
We will search too hard

To ever find
What we are seeking.



I thought I was looking
For answers

And understanding.


But answers to questions
Are not satisfying,

And understanding
Is not the same as knowing.



For me, actually finding
What I had been seeking

Was like looking for a book
In an old library,

But finding, instead,
An open window,

Light and warmth,
Fresh air and fragrances.



I have learned from Cindy
Much about what is concrete,

What has meaning, depth,
And substance to it.


Which is to say
I have learned much from Cindy

About what is truly spiritual.



It is easy to become preoccupied
With religious abstractions,

But where what matters shows
Is in instances and moments.


It is not in words
About the spiritual.

It is in words
That show the spiritual.


It is not in what we talk about.

It is in how
We speak to others.


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Waking Children

I wake my children
Differently.

My oldest and my youngest
Wake up like me,

Rather quickly.


My middle child
Wakes up like his mother,

More slowly.


I rub his back
And speak to him,

Allowing him the time he needs
To come around.


I take the extra time with him,
Because he needs it

To wake up feeling
Good about the day.



He caught a snake
This summer,

And we let him keep it as a pet,
But as the summer waned,

We told him that he had to let it go.


With a lot of coaxing,
He put it in the grass,

But as it started to slither off,
The tears welled up.


I let him catch his snake
And keep it for a few days more,

And when he let it go again,
He did so happily,

Because he was ready to.



I could have played the game
Of making me the boss

And making him a little man.


I could have, but I didn’t,

Because what was important
Was not about myself.

There was no contest
And there was nothing to prove.



Yes, the situation was significant,
And there were lessons there,

But they were not about control,
And I was not the teacher.


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In This Way

My dad and I have just returned
From an antique buying trip to Arkansas.

We came back, having not bought a thing,
But we did not return empty-handed.


We had occasion to stop in Batesville,
Where my grandparents had once lived,

And this prompted us to recollect
And talk about my grandfather.


My grandfather had been a mailman,
Whose rural route was through the hills

And to the homes of some very poor
And very secluded mountain people.


My dad recalled his father talking about
When he first began to drive the route,

That he would see the people waiting
And watching for the mail to come,

Half-hidden and a ways away.


He said that it was weeks before
Many of them would come out to meet him.

Being the kind and gentle man he was,
He came to be a good friend to those folks,

And he always spoke of them with fondness.



Though we live in homes
That are big and fancy, by comparison,

To the humble dwellings
Of those Ozark mountain people,

We are really not so different.


Our circumstances may be
More richly decorated,

But out of them we peer,
Half-hidden and a ways away,

At a kind and gentle man who we
Will one day come to know as friend.


He might not look
Like what we think is strong,

But he will meet the need this way,
And show us, in this way, how strong love is.



My grandfather appreciated people.
He saw past the clutter around them.

He saw past the junk in the yards
And the old furniture on the porches.

He saw the hearts of those who dwelled
In those humble surroundings.


I believe he saw as we are seen by Him,

Who looks past the clutter around us,
Past the junk in our yards

And the old furniture on our porches.


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With Thanksgiving

Money is involved,
Keeping the lights on,

And the bills paid,
And the family clothed and fed.


Health is involved,
Strengths and weaknesses,

Pains and incapacities,
And aging.


People are involved,
Their needs and their complexities,

Their hungers and their mysteries.


Children are involved,
And all of their demands on us,

Our hopes for them,
Our successes and our failures in providing.



We are involved
In all these complications and in more.

We are bound and blindfolded
And pushed and pulled from all directions.


He who thinks he masters,
Has lordship over and control,

Is like one who holds his breath,
Closes his eyes, and holds on tightly,

When there is nothing to hold onto.



If we are wise, we are humble.

We do not sit in judgement
Over things we do not understand.


We look upon more gently.
We hold with open hands.

We speak and act with generosity.



I was touched yesterday.

An elderly man came into our store
Needing new batteries in two watches.

A co-worker greeted him, but he asked for me,
Because I had helped him before.


We talked about New Mexico,
Where he and I had both once lived,

And about his wife of fifty-five years
Who had passed away a month ago.



One is not made proud by caring.
One is made humble,

As it elevates
All things in importance.


Caring is not afraid to face
And it is not afraid to speak to.

It knows there is light and warmth in it.


It shines and it shows
In how it looks upon and holds

With thanksgiving.


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All This

Fifteenth podcast. Click here to listen.
Love accepts what is, as it is, and in so doing,
changes everything.

Making a Difference

I heard a preacher on the radio
Equating all the good we can do

To a speck of ash in the balance,
Compared to what’s been done for us.


He may have been right in his proportions,

But I believe he was wrong
In his assessment of the importance

Of that difference in the balance.



A homeless man came to my door at work,
Asking if we had work he could do.

It is my policy to give money
To people on the street who ask for it.

I told him, “We don’t have any work for you,
But here’s five dollars to buy you lunch.”


Two or three weeks later
I was getting into my car

And this same man came up to me
And said that he wanted to thank me.



He said that giving him that money
Had turned his life around

And everything was going much better now.
And he did not ask for more.


How could five dollars turn a life around?

I can’t imagine how
And I can’t imagine that it did,

But it was not a little thing to him.
Something significant had happened.



Little things can tip the balance
And make all the difference in the world

To maybe just one person.


To make that difference,

To be there
When someone needs to be,
And care ...


There are no words
For how it makes one feel,

But blessed.


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Eternal Life

Many things
Are ours for the asking.

Some are not.


When I ask that I might be
Or that I might become,

Remarkable coincidences
Pave the way.


When I ask that I be given
Or that I might get,

Nothing helpful
Happens.


Ask that you might be
In harmony.

Ask that you might be
Of service.

Ask that you might be
A source.


And you will become

More than you could know
To ask for.



You are given life,

And life is given
Into your care.


To those who love life,
Life is given abundantly.

To those who love things,
Existence becomes

Increasingly lifeless.



Appreciation
Is the recognition
Of meaning and value.


The more we appreciate,

The more meaning and value
We recognize.


Those who will not receive
Cannot be made to receive

What can only be received
With love and appreciation.



Many times, in prayer,
I have expected
Reproach,

And have deserved
Reproach.


All I have been shown
Is complete compassion.



I am encouraged
At such times

And inspired.


My prayer
Is that I might
Someday become

So loving.


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