John and Lisa's Blue Skies Blog – Soaring with God

Just dark enough
Still light enough to see —
God’s glory here

Truth:
I don’t need
some Old Testament prophet
shouting and pointing
his finger at me
or some guru in a cave
in Tibet quoting
sacred Scripture.
Gimme someone who deals
with the same bullshit
I deal with on a daily basis
to offer advice,
a cope-dope to listen
to my bitches
about the traffic
and the bean counters.
So be it.

Sometimes, deaf as I am, I hear the clicking of my turn signals
when I’m stuck at a red light.
Depending on the mood I’m in, they say various things.
If I’m in a hurry, I hear: “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”
If I just made a mistake, it’s: “Fucked up, fucked up, fucked up.”
After some minor injustice against me, I hear: “Why me, why me, why me.”
For some reason, I’ve yet to hear: “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Okay, here’s something fun! John and I love when poetry inspires more poetry. John’s most recent post, In the Stream, inspired my friend and spiritual buddy, Brother Leo Campos from the Community of Solitude, to send me a response poem. We ended up with a neat little poetry exchange we decided to share here. Enjoy!
—————————————–

Leo:

In the stream of my life,
— Flotsam —
Debris from upstream
Washing slowly down
Until the bend swallows them from sight

Occasionally some treasure. Trapped
In roots of the mango trees

Floating past
What has this exposed wreckage
To do with the fisherman watching
Sitting quietly under the shade
Not good, not bad
Just like clouds in the water
Obscuring the fish
—————–

Lisa:

exposed wreckage
being watched
not good not bad
—————–

Leo:

Fish swims
Unaware of good or bad
Fisherman ignores the flotsam
Only: fish
—————–

Lisa:

Fisherman: Be quiet! Sh….
Fish: Work
Flotsam: Ahh….

At this point
in my existence
people and places
from my past
float to the surface
of my memory
like flotsam and jetsam
in the stream of my life,
some good some bad.

Continued here

In meditation
it’s like trying
to balance myself
on the head of a pin.

“… ten lepers met [Jesus]. They stood at a distance from him and raised their voice, saying, ‘Jesus, Master! Have pity on us!’ And when he saw them, he said, ‘Go show yourselves to the priests.’ As they were going, they were cleansed.”
(Luke 17:12-14)

O Lord, You see
and hear our distress.
You know our illness
better than we who
attempt to endure.
We call to You.
God of All,
You know us;
You discern
the purity of our hearts.
Even mustard-seed-sized
faith opens the world
of possibility.
You command: Go!
We put one foot
in front of the other,
and Lo!
We are healed.

“A man’s spirit sustains him in sickness, but a crushed spirit who can bear?”
(Proverbs 18:14)

“God humbled you and made you feel hunger. God then fed you with a food you had never known – to make you understand that human beings live not on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God.”
(Deuteronomy 8:3)

Crushed in spirit,
humbled before You,
I repent of pride.
This vast hunger
far surpasses anything
of insatiable flesh.
I’m not immune.
You know, O LORD,
the void, Sheol,
darkness that awaits
me ever patiently.
You nourish me
moment to moment
with light, love, life,
breath, Presence.
These truly fill me
when I let them.
Amen. AUM