Blogging to illuminate, to reconcile

Illumination

Lately I have been enjoying writing blogs that seem to reconcile stuck, limited, or judging viewpoints within.

Something arises.  Some judgment, some feeling, some sorrow, something that’s not yet integrated.

Perhaps it has to do with a friendship.  A sense of longing.  Something deep inside which wants to be accepted, yet there’s still a pushing away, a not-allowing. Perhaps it’s an anger, a sorrow, a not-understanding.

I sit and type, letting the deepest self share its thoughts.

Then–instead of turning too quickly in the next moment–or too compulsively looking toward your comments or visits–it seems that the words in the blog are felt on a deeper level.  I feel the truth in the words, to understand, to allow.

It often feels like a big ah-ha of understanding.  It feels like it translates into true realization, into something real which can inform the next action.

Made of dreams and dandelion fuzz

Make a wish and come to earth for a lifetime.

So many lives are made of dreams, of wishes, of wants, of blow-the-dandelion-fuzz across the back yard so the Forest Owls hoot your deepest desires back to you just before midnight.

I once dreamed of traveling to Switzerland, to Italy, how about France? Perhaps even Mexico, Nicaragua, maybe Ecuador.  I dreamed of writing a famous book, you know, the kind of book which leaves readers gasping, wanting more, truly inspired, truly knowing themselves in some deeper way.

Up all night birthing a goat

At morning’s first light–before a busy day–slowly scrolling down the Facebook home page.

Marvelling at the differences in friends, family and acquaintances.  Marvelling that I’m not feeling irritated at the differences this morning–that the mind is not judging, sorting, categorizing as it loves to do.

Instead, look at the sparks of God!

This one ponders if she’ll be up all night birthing a goat.

A week-old baby goat. OK, I didn’t help birth it.

The great and powerful longing

Longing

I awoke this morning thinking about–and feeling–longing.

The longing, like a swirling snake of energy, which has lived with me since I was a wee putter-snapper.  

Do you live with longing?

Oh, she can be a challenging guest, that one, with her slanted green eyes and endless desires which circle round and around and around.  

She lives at the center sometimes, an ache which can’t be filled.  Oh, how I’ve tried to appease her all these many years!  How did I try to appease her?  Let me count the ways.

Do you feel the pain?

…and then the unthinkable happens.

Cancer knocks on your door.  While you slept an invasion of cells stole away your peace and now chemotherapy rules your days and nights, even though you swore, didn’t you swear?, that you would never ever radiate yourself, that you would never fight for life with poison and hope singing in your bloodstream.

You’re running in the Boston Marathon and suddenly an explosion rocks your runner’s high and you’re falling, falling, to the pavement and blood runs instead where your legs once pumped in delightful anticipation of that finish line which never arrived.

Prayer

Easter on ice, 2013

Hello world!

Picture this. Ice fishing over 280 feet of water on Lake Superior. Floating on 18 inches of ice.  Convinced by husband to leave warm house on Easter morning. No one else on ice, except one lone snowmobiler. Everyone else at church.

We celebrated Easter Services in tent.

Husband snapped this picture.

Coffee was enjoyed in the fellowship hall.

The fish have not risen. Yet.

Opening our Easter heart

My Good Friday tradition, for more years than you can count on fingers and toes, involved spinning the old album on the record player, clicking in an eight track tape, pushing in a condensed “modern” tape, and eventually inserting a CD into the player.

Listening to what, you ask?

Listening to Jesus Christ Superstar, my friends.  Thank you, Lori, from this post at Lori’s Lane for the inspiration!

How many of you can sing the entire score?  If you can, shall we Skype and sing it together?  (Just kidding.  I’m not singing in public.  Even in the relative “private” of Skype, thank you very much.)

If you want to listen to the ENTIRE 1970 CD here’s your Easter weekend jamming:

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth

Red and white

I used to think truth was something simple.

Something one felt.  Something essential.  Something easily revealed.

After years of meditation–and the practice of blogging–it becomes more and more apparent that, yes, Truth is very simple.  But it’s extremely complicated to convey it to oneself or another person.

Most of the time we humans tell half-truths to each other.  We pick and choose what to tell.  We announce we think or believe something, conveniently leaving out the actual experience in our lives where we did the opposite.

What a difference a day makes!

It’s melting, it’s melting…

Today the sun is shining in Lake Superior land.

It’s 20 degrees and the hockey game’s on…  (Sorry, Jimmy Buffett fans, I can’t help myself quoting his lyrics lately.)  The only part of the last sentence that is true is that it’s 20 degrees. (-7 C for all of you who have no American affiliation.) It’s stunningly warm!

What you don’t know about me

The great pink search.

Still pondering what isn’t spoken, what isn’t shared on our blogs and with casual acquaintances.

What don’t I share here?

What words aren’t uttered and why?

I spend most days deeply contemplating spiritual questions.

Looking at things deeper and deeper and still deeper.