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Accessing the Heart
I have been away for awhile- took some much needed vacation and time for retreat with loved ones and enjoyed a string of days whose “purpose” was unspoken for in advance. It never seems to fail that...
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Looking Beyond Meaninglessness
For nearly a fortnight this little outpost in the electronic landscape has been a purveyor of radio silence- a dot of ink indistinguishable from the backdrop of the night sky. Only an expert in this...
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January Challenge: Awakening Experiences
This post is part of a series on the subject of Awakening sponsored/inspired by Barbara Franken—a January Challenge that has claimed the first week of February as it’s own as well… * * * * * One of my...
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Witnessing One’s Self
The places within us that are not yet healed, and have not yet been dissolved into the pure and guiltless and shameless and never-confounded substance of being, are like movie stars, and the events of...
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Musings on Resurrection
The other day I had some old friends drop by for a visit– unannounced. I was sitting in the plaza having a sandwich, reading or reflecting or some such thing, when Depression slid one of the free...
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The (nth to) Last Temptation of M
Roughly a week ago I wrote about acceptance and not looking back. It was fun. It felt good. I felt whole, and alive. I was aware of a nurturing Invisibility with which I was joined, as if I was...
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The SheepMan’s Instruction
After reading the final passage of Haruki Murakami’s Dance Dance Dance, I pinched the book shut in one hand and took a deep, satisfying breath- the kind of breath you might take at dawn on the Seventh...
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Sky Healing
There’s a poverty I sometimes settle into, a clawing for connection. It’s a painful question that picks me out of the world’s line-up of chiefs and princetains, captains and raconteurs, the divas and...
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Call Center
One night when Hafiz was working the phones, a call came in. The man began by announcing that he had a few questions, as if he were preparing his counter party for a barrage of heavy artillery. The way...
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Moulting
The process of shifting identity from the false perceptions of the ego to the valid identity we all share in Christ appears, at least for me, to involve passage through states that closely resemble one...
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Ode to a Quaggy Mire
I’ve done it now. I’ve stepped into It. It’s gotten all over my shoe and It’s made walking a squishy awkward. Also, a certain quantity of the material ended up in dollops on the rug in the front hall,...
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Relinquishing Difficulty
Recent events in my life served the function of popping the vacuum sealed lid of a small glass jar of fear I had been carrying around in my coat pocket. I smacked dab into some real world...
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Ditching Progress
The sleek apparatus we call progress has failed us. The signs are all around, if we but dare heed them. I’m very clear, for instance, that the curdling of country lanes into frost-heaved mogul...
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Disarmament (Part 1 of the Rest)
Well, I couldn’t squish this into a single post… I promise it won’t be too many. Welcome to my short foray into serial fiction… * * * * * It was just a small apartment. I don’t know what I had...
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The Next One
Hafiz came along and asked what I was doing up there in that tree with soot all over my face and my hair in greasy knots, my feet scratched, blistered and bleeding, my wick burned down to the...
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Heaven’s Front Yard
Staggering through the dim light of Heaven’s front yard, slinking into the greenish shadows of distant outdoor halogens as if to hide forever, and ranting silently about the burden of makeshift woes...
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Every Step of the Way…
This post is part of the Time Machine Blogging Challenge hosted by Linda Litebeing… When I reflect on my life, the realization that emerges is that I’ve been guided in ways both more subtle and...
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Strange Ideas About Love
Once I was mumbling under my breath about a feeling that kept coming back to roost in the lee of my chest like a forlorn and beaten pigeon– a feeling like I was mumbling at altitude and couldn’t get...
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Flying Dreaming Loving
The dream is unobtrusive, glowing where no one can see it, following beside me but deep in the ground, visible only by looking straight down through the center of myself, from the inside of my senses....
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This Little Game We Play
I take the pack of index cards out of my shirt pocket, slide the rubber band off, and lay them on the table. Hafiz has prepared a few placards and set them up at credible intervals. They read, “No...
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