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Reflections

Category: Poetry

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We Have Not Come to Take Prisoners

We have not come here to take prisoners, But to surrender ever more deeply To freedom and joy. We have not come into this exquisite world To hold ourselves hostage from love. Run my dear, From anything That may not strengthen Your precious budding wings. Run like hell my dear, From anyone likely To put a sharp knife Into the sacred, tender vision Of your beautiful heart. We have a duty to befriend Those aspects of obedience That stand outside of our house And shout to our reason “O please, O please, Come out and play.” For we have not

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Awakening

There are many metaphors for spiritual transformation: birthing, unfolding, awakening to name just a few.  I love the image of waking ourselves up from the ways we have been asleep to our callings and to the nature of the world.  Milton at Don’t Eat Alone posted a wonderful poem by Antonio Machado who writes: Beyond living and dreaming there is something more important: waking up. Milton describes Machado as a “poetic alarm clock calling us to awake, look, and listen.” I was reminded of one of Michael Meade’s lectures I was listening to in which he asked, why do we insist on

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Blessing the Bread

I just had to share two more things before I head to the airport.  I awoke early and so had time to discover a stunning post on Jen Lemen’s blog today about Love and another poem from Panhala, again by Lynn Ungar (according to Amazon her book is out of print, I think I need to make a point of finding a used copy): Blessing the Bread Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha’olam, hamotzi lechem min ha’aretz. Surely the earth is heavy with this rhythm, the stretch and pull of bread, the folding in and folding in across the palms,

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Giving Thanks

One of the things I love about Thanksgiving is that it is one of those holidays that has escaped a lot of the consumer frenzy (except as a preamble to one of the biggest shopping days of the year).  I also love that it is a secular holiday centered on feasting and gratitude. I have so very much to be thankful for, my heart overflows with gratitude for the abundance in my life.  A wonderful husband, relatively good health, great friends, work that I love, time and space to nurture delight, many layers of community and support, all of my wonderful

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Simple Musings and Offerings

There are lots of things percolating in me right now.  I almost feel as though if I dare to speak them too soon I will lose my grasp.  So I am allowing them a little more time.  I am working on a post about dreams to respond to Cathleen‘s comment and Me‘s comment to previous posts of mine which I will be able to finish tomorrow. I have also been thinking a lot about the Liturgy of the Hours lately.  Then I just read Jorge’s post about The Liturgy of the Toddler and just loved it.  I don’t even have children, but if

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Sleep is the Prayer of the Body

Sleep is the prayer of the body shrouding itself in holy surrender. It is an act of supplication, with its secret longing for the things embodied in luminous darkness. What happens in that moment of great release into the total eclipse of night when the body descends into the cradle of dreaming? Does the breath suddenly become slow? Does the heart become still, barely perceptible, in its faithful work? Or do they labor more heavily to make space in the body for the rhythmic eruptions of story and symbol that beg me to awaken to a bigger life? This is

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Enough

Dear ones, I am feeling very tired.  I have been pushing to get the draft done of our lectio divina book (which it finally is, now for editing!), I teach all day tomorrow and Saturday the Awakening program I love (but always exhausting), and I am having some conflicts with a good friend which is emotionally draining.  So I am feeling my humanness especially right now and trying to listen deeply and gently to myself in the midst all that is stirring in me.  I am aware of my longings for Sabbath, for time to just play and be with my husband,

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