Show me your ways, O LORD,
teach me your paths;
guide me in your truth and teach me,
for you are God my Savior,
and my hope is in you all day long..
All the ways of the LORD are loving and faithful
for those who keep the demands of his covenant.
The Lord confides in those who fear him;
He makes his covenant known to them.
My eyes are ever on the LORD,
for only he will release my feet from the snare.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Ice Skating
I want to go ice skating with you Lord.
You and me in our little roller-rink,
We'll swoop around in big, wide circles
and make figure-eights over and over.
We'll speed-up just before the corners
and when I close my eyes
we could be flying.
I'll keep making little gasps at the far-away wonder coming-up so soon,
Trees and benches and garbage cans and parking spaces streaming by.
We'll miss the walls every time,
Turning around and around.
I'll get so proud at the crisp sounds of my blades at the turns,
Feeling so very mighty.
Me coming along like a fountain.
(I wrote this last week. Was in such a pleasant space back then. I felt that everything was especially given. I was sitting near the fountain across the street from my work and for some reason I rememberd how they say my Grampa's parents, my great grandparents used to ice skate. That's what they did back then, it was th 1800's).
You and me in our little roller-rink,
We'll swoop around in big, wide circles
and make figure-eights over and over.
We'll speed-up just before the corners
and when I close my eyes
we could be flying.
I'll keep making little gasps at the far-away wonder coming-up so soon,
Trees and benches and garbage cans and parking spaces streaming by.
We'll miss the walls every time,
Turning around and around.
I'll get so proud at the crisp sounds of my blades at the turns,
Feeling so very mighty.
Me coming along like a fountain.
(I wrote this last week. Was in such a pleasant space back then. I felt that everything was especially given. I was sitting near the fountain across the street from my work and for some reason I rememberd how they say my Grampa's parents, my great grandparents used to ice skate. That's what they did back then, it was th 1800's).
fall
What happens when my pockets are empty.
when i put down the warm coal in the ruff and when i let go.
empty. and like the house disappeared. how vacant is this to say goodbye.
also i feel relief on the roof on the heart. and the horribleness.
The loss of the pebble that was building, tumbling, rolling, smoothing.
I don't feel the heights anymore, the vertigo, the shakey dock.
And I keep remembering this last weekend after church when it was all falling: His hands when he was leaning on the brick of the coffeeshop "Please!" and he really meant it. And all the swell of feeling and his sweetness so up and big like a mast and surrounding and for me.
Like he had me, was for me, my hands taken in--so there. His hands were around mine and squeezing my fingers. And I kept shaking my head and it is all surreal. no more do-overs or working the land. No more shaping these sweet ways. how horrible.
how surreal to drop.
I wanted to call him after I saw my sister, and Cat Power at the Filmore last night. I wanted his reassurance after such an aquard night. the new ways me and my sister move. Her calm and being, and present, -- my many words and probably too much smile when i first came off the road. she said i gave all these gestures of trying to prevent dissapointment, how it reminded her of what she used to do to try to take care of everyone else. I felt so dinged in my heart! I was just being my frazzled self, heightened from the road.
The whole night we talked about truth, how it is so crucial to be truthful and authentic. She is on a truth mission. I have been too these last weeks. but there was this emptiness between us. I think she is finding a new authentic self. I remember how she used to get so excited, and I guess much of that was her trying to take care of other people, a somewhat propped up disposition for others. And simultaneoulsy where was that warmness between us? That contagious spirit. I am happy for my sister's awakening, coming into her own. but in the night i wanted to share deeper. i wanted to get to the heart of things. we did in spurts, and then there was this gap. my words seemed lame all night, i kept losing my sentences. I was trying to truthfully respond, and listen to her. She said it seemed I was "trying to figure things out" i remembered my overdoing as usual.
so this new space. it is very surreal. there is peace and there is lost.
when i put down the warm coal in the ruff and when i let go.
empty. and like the house disappeared. how vacant is this to say goodbye.
also i feel relief on the roof on the heart. and the horribleness.
The loss of the pebble that was building, tumbling, rolling, smoothing.
I don't feel the heights anymore, the vertigo, the shakey dock.
And I keep remembering this last weekend after church when it was all falling: His hands when he was leaning on the brick of the coffeeshop "Please!" and he really meant it. And all the swell of feeling and his sweetness so up and big like a mast and surrounding and for me.
Like he had me, was for me, my hands taken in--so there. His hands were around mine and squeezing my fingers. And I kept shaking my head and it is all surreal. no more do-overs or working the land. No more shaping these sweet ways. how horrible.
how surreal to drop.
I wanted to call him after I saw my sister, and Cat Power at the Filmore last night. I wanted his reassurance after such an aquard night. the new ways me and my sister move. Her calm and being, and present, -- my many words and probably too much smile when i first came off the road. she said i gave all these gestures of trying to prevent dissapointment, how it reminded her of what she used to do to try to take care of everyone else. I felt so dinged in my heart! I was just being my frazzled self, heightened from the road.
The whole night we talked about truth, how it is so crucial to be truthful and authentic. She is on a truth mission. I have been too these last weeks. but there was this emptiness between us. I think she is finding a new authentic self. I remember how she used to get so excited, and I guess much of that was her trying to take care of other people, a somewhat propped up disposition for others. And simultaneoulsy where was that warmness between us? That contagious spirit. I am happy for my sister's awakening, coming into her own. but in the night i wanted to share deeper. i wanted to get to the heart of things. we did in spurts, and then there was this gap. my words seemed lame all night, i kept losing my sentences. I was trying to truthfully respond, and listen to her. She said it seemed I was "trying to figure things out" i remembered my overdoing as usual.
so this new space. it is very surreal. there is peace and there is lost.
I Always Obey My Nurse
by Thomas Merton
I always obey my nurse
I always care
For wound and fracture
Because I am always broken
I obey my nurse
And God did not make death
He did not make pain
But the little blind fire
That leaps from one wound into another
Knitting the broken bones
And fixing sins so they can be forgotten
I will obey my nurse who keeps this fire
Deep in her wounded breast
For God did not make death
He did not make pain
Or the arrogant wound
That smells under the official bandage
Because I am always broken I obey my nurse
Who in her grey eyes and her moral breast
Holds an immortal love the wise have fractured
Because we have both been broken we can tell
That God did not make death
I will obey the little spark
That flies from fracture to fracture
And the explosion
Where God did not make death
But only vision.
I will obey my nurse's broken heart
Where all fires come from
And the abyss of light
Made of pardoned sin
For God did not make death
I always obey the spark that smacks the lightning
In the giant night
I obey without question
The outlaw reasons
The cries in the abyss
From this world's body that the wise have fractured
For God did not make death
He did not make prisons
Or stalking canonical ravens
The dirt in the incision
I will obey my nurse
I will always take care
Of my fractured religion
And God did not make death.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
The Greatest
|
The Greatest
by Cat Power
Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or waterfall could STALL me
And then came the rush of the flood
The stars at night turned DEEP to dust
Melt me down
into big black armour
Leave no trace
Of grace
Just in your honor
Lower me down
TO CULPRIT SOUTH
Make 'EM WASH A SPACE IN TOWN
FOR THE LEAD
AND THE DREGS OF MY BED
I'VE BEEN SLEEPING
Lower me down
PIN ME IN
Secure the grounds
For the later parade
Once I wanted to be the greatest
TWO FISTS OF SOLID ROCK
WITH BRAINS THAT COULD EXPLAIN
Any feeling
Lower me down
PIN ME IN
Secure the grounds
FOR THE LEAD
AND THE DREGS OF MY BED
I'VE BEEN SLEEPING
For the later parade
Once I wanted to be the greatest
No wind or water fall could STALL me
And then came the rush of the flood
The stars at night turned DEEP to dust
Thursday, September 06, 2007
the tundra
Last night I came home.
A lumpy package from my Mom, with batteries and the missing remote control, and a note referring to the street in Michigan I learned was named after my family name. There is a street in Michigan called Passolt Street. Named after my family.
"AUNT KATE--YOUR NAME SAKE WAS A PASSOLT--YOU HAVE A STREET NAMED AFTER YOU! (sort of)"
Because I'm named after my mom's great aunt kate, and that is the name of the street in Michigan. Opening it was like this nod to me, to who i am, to where i come from. I was so happy, this note from my mom. In her typical all caps writing, just one note.
The icky still in my throat and being. The places cut off. the places inauthentic. the displeasure swallowing me. and holding.
crazy that that night i broke up with Cliff, that i was firm, that i said it all, the hopelessness, all this stuff wearing me. that i couldn't do it anymore.
but out of the tundra out of the hell of bakersfield he was crying, then he started speaking into who i am. speaking all these things he always knew. the positive things i had been doing, what i couldn't see. "Can I ask you questions?" pleading like on the edge. "OK!" and we started talking about God. and he started asking me all these hefty questions, the spirit in his voice of wanting to know.
it was so surreal that night. Then we had the most life-affirming conversation i've had with him.
There were lots of a'has. Lots of nods. There was agreement. And he came back, it was 3 in the morning. and he was pouring into me.
It's like i released it. like i let go of the cliff, and i fell, and a shorter cliff was at the bottom waiting. it is like mewithoutyou says, i threw away book and i found these buried pages. It's like I gave it up to God and it was given back to me.
And it feels like for the first time a real rebuilding. like we could make a new house. "Do you want to plant a tree?" he asked. and ever since the best days. there is this softness. a heart of flesh. there is this new posture. new being.
and wholeness. This is seriously ridiculous.
I had told God a couple months ago in July that I wanted to find the treasures. And it feels like that, this hidden treasure.
and i am still scared but i know that it was like a whole new package delivered.
And it sounds like Brand New.
A lumpy package from my Mom, with batteries and the missing remote control, and a note referring to the street in Michigan I learned was named after my family name. There is a street in Michigan called Passolt Street. Named after my family.
"AUNT KATE--YOUR NAME SAKE WAS A PASSOLT--YOU HAVE A STREET NAMED AFTER YOU! (sort of)"
Because I'm named after my mom's great aunt kate, and that is the name of the street in Michigan. Opening it was like this nod to me, to who i am, to where i come from. I was so happy, this note from my mom. In her typical all caps writing, just one note.
The icky still in my throat and being. The places cut off. the places inauthentic. the displeasure swallowing me. and holding.
crazy that that night i broke up with Cliff, that i was firm, that i said it all, the hopelessness, all this stuff wearing me. that i couldn't do it anymore.
but out of the tundra out of the hell of bakersfield he was crying, then he started speaking into who i am. speaking all these things he always knew. the positive things i had been doing, what i couldn't see. "Can I ask you questions?" pleading like on the edge. "OK!" and we started talking about God. and he started asking me all these hefty questions, the spirit in his voice of wanting to know.
it was so surreal that night. Then we had the most life-affirming conversation i've had with him.
There were lots of a'has. Lots of nods. There was agreement. And he came back, it was 3 in the morning. and he was pouring into me.
It's like i released it. like i let go of the cliff, and i fell, and a shorter cliff was at the bottom waiting. it is like mewithoutyou says, i threw away book and i found these buried pages. It's like I gave it up to God and it was given back to me.
And it feels like for the first time a real rebuilding. like we could make a new house. "Do you want to plant a tree?" he asked. and ever since the best days. there is this softness. a heart of flesh. there is this new posture. new being.
and wholeness. This is seriously ridiculous.
I had told God a couple months ago in July that I wanted to find the treasures. And it feels like that, this hidden treasure.
and i am still scared but i know that it was like a whole new package delivered.
And it sounds like Brand New.
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