How well certain writers
explained and described
how big and small each
day is.

Making a poetry collection…

Lord gather my collection
put me in Your stanzas
pronounce and write me both
as you will.
Gather your words
out of my years
and make a poetry collection of me.
You are my only editor
and publisher.
i will be your little words,
organize my lines
so we can share them in time.
Lord make me
your collection.
Collect me, in Thee.

You have no time pressures
no dead lines-You
crossed that dead line
long ago. Now,
gather the real words
in my bones
for your own pleasure
of reading them
out loud!
i don’t need success either
to know
so
let’s just
make a whole
poem together
friend.

Collect me
into Your Heart’s Mouth
and sing me
to Yourself Lord first.
And then, if you want to share me,
feel free.

I’m free verse
anyway, as You who made me
already know.
Collect then sow me Lord
where You see fit.

planting an olive tree:

what i want to be growing on
this land when i’m dead…
today i planted an olive tree here
so it will talk to others
around the world,
when i’m dead.
some have complained
about the dusty green color
(they were disappointed
after King David’s description)
but i’ve always seen silver flecks
in olive leaves
like angel dust glistening in God’s breeze;
so that is what
i’ll leave here
starting today.
I’ll plant an olive tree
in this little temple
of me.

afterthought:
I want to be
rooted and leaning upwards,
like an olive tree,
i, ancient already.

Watching a particular cherry tree

Staring at that one particular cherry tree today
the one i watched before i can remember-
branches bending, knowing, in soft wind again
recalling or at least revealing where
Wind comes from, as a breeze does on skin; just as I was,
three sea gulls crossed over, and
a copper’s hawk
and hummingbird passed by suddenly
in that old tremble of things-
all just being themselves
miraculously. And me
there watching it
all, finally still enough to see well.

The way of the prophets….love walking in their way….God still uses art to speak.

The prophets were symbolic thinkers, their imaginations were integrated with their spirituality. One of the advantages of that, is they could write plays poems and songs which could contain God’s messages for their times. “Don’t constrain God to one medium!”

They made portable art which could be carried—like songs and fairy tales are. Stories which could pass across generations. Art is like that. And it is still a method God uses to package Himself.

I love studying those throughout history, who had integrated imaginations. They are most needed in our times as well. Those who are clear symbolic thinkers, and can talk in poetry, drama and rhyme and story—to put in on artistic tablets, so the heralds can run with it.

That’s part of the priestly task, which is needed our day! “Give God the most mediums and room to talk and play through!” as one of my mentors put it.

The prophets did that! Love listening to and through their art today, as I am reading Habakkuk’s great play!!! And considering it’s applications for today! His times, so similar to ours! And God’s method will probably once again be art! As He tends to tell old stories in turbulent times.

Let me be
a cup of tea for Thee
in the dark.
Let me be
something you enjoy
at the end of the night.
(a simple spark)
Something which keeps
You going, Lord.

One of my mentors ice climbed waterfalls with me. When waterfalls freeze up in winter in the mountains, it’s possible to climb them! He must’ve known i’d need it in this season…..wrote a little slant poem for him today…

My teacher and i climbed iced over waterfalls once in mid winter mountains up north somewhere …

half way up, iced over, and iced picking through life’s
water fall cliff clime, Berkshires in rhyme, us; two men dangling, where they were;
we ate lunch as men, in time together half way up…
hanging there, on our particular hooks, considering….
vulnerable as leaders are; just then, a willow or wren passed, at least, or hawk’s relief flew through; something regardless (which i can’t recall fully), flew above us;
and maybe through us, as we reached upwards….

that teaching is still in my colder knowing bones,
my mentor friend.
Ice climbing waterfall in winter with you, went in.
Let’s climb on.

Trying to hear the poem…

I can’t hear a poem anymore
with the sky covered so quickly;
can you speak through this cloudy dissonance?
can we hear, as we are.
i’m trying to hear your poems, but
so much interference
black noise on rivers
whole city’s silenced
black outs everywhere… earthquakes fear, mainly fear instead of Love.
i’m trying to hear your poem Lord and
friend
i’ll transmit it,
i promise.
Let me be
your cup of tea
in the dark.
Let me be
something you enjoy
at the end of the night.

One of my mentors ice climbed waterfalls with me. He must’ve knew i’d need it in this season…..wrote a little slant poem for him today…

My teacher and i ice climbing waterfalls once…

half way up, iced over
water fall cliff clime, Berkshires in rhyme, us;
we ate lunch as men, in time together half way up…
hanging there, on our particular hooks,
vulnerable as leaders are; just then, a willow or wren passed, at least, or hawk’s relief flew through; something regardless (which i can’t recall fully), flew above us;
that teaching is still in my bones my mentor friend.
Ice climbing waterfall in winter with you, went in.

Taking off cultural clothes….a friend’s great question! What’s your naked religion!
“If you take culture off Christianity, what do you have left? I would like to meet Jesus, but can’t get past the cultures (especially American and Western Europe’s versions) which developed in His Name. The culture of christianity is blocking me from meeting Jesus.” a friend asked last night. Wow, ok….
She went on, “What is your naked religion? What is it without all the cultural manipulation of expression, it’s cultural branding and marketing? What’s its essence?” Always a great question! If anyone’s gotten to that point, they actually want to know!
My favorite question anyone has asked me in the past five years. And led to the best depth dialogue, I’ve had in a while! What is the essence of that faith? Was her basic inquiry. What are it’s core symbols and metaphors which would help me live better?
Especially in the post religious (or global supermarket religious) times we live in. What is the essence of your faith, outside of its cultural expression. Good inquiry.
And what a great moment in history for authenticity! A transparent faith is the most useful now. People living out their spirituality out loud. Telling their real stories. I met an angel, i met Jesus, i had my life protected….
We started by separating spirituality from religion. I love starting there. What are you actually guiding your life by? What is your higher or upper story, how to define or value your life? Daily, what keeps you motivated to wake up! We went there, but as with most best conversations, things often start with a good earnest question!
How to encounter the actual essence of a way, still matters. And listening to one another’s deeper stories of life. So thankful there are folks still asking the basics.
What’s your naked religion? If it were just you and God in the entire universe, who would you be. Would you feel loved, seen known valued, purposeful? If you took the cultural clothes off your faith, what would remain?! Great quest-ion from a friend. I love great questions! Keeps us questing forwards in faith!

Telling our true stories!

How to find and then tell your life story still matters! It makes meaning obvious, and helps keep us to turn the pages into new chapters.

Learning how to tell our true stories through art, still matters to me. Once, we can read and tell our stories, we see that they are meaningful, valuable. I like helping people do that-find and tell their stories through art! Here’s one of mine i started telling and drawing as a kid!

The man between worlds:

A long time ago, i too, like most young artists, created a mythology of life for myself in this little character of a stick figure walking between worlds. The man who walked between worlds was the narrative. And it was a man like the man on wire, who set a rope between cities and the heavens going through musical notes which were the sky, and joining or at least walking towards the rays of the sun which were hope’s musical Source.

It came from a funnel vision i had when i was younger; in the vision, where I saw Jesus at the end of a huge funnel. The funnel itself was made of music. And as long as I looked only at him i could walk in air, or float, but like St Peter (in my case though on air rather than water); as soon as I looked away, I sunk. In my case limbs would be torn off, and my eyes or gaze seared. If I stared at the demonic the atmosphere outside the funnel of music, i would immediately decay, but if i stayed focused on Jesus, i was free to create in this huge funnel filled with living notes. In my drawings, the people in the music were actually made of notes.

Great vision, and so i did a series of drawings about that stick man who walked between worlds. Thinking of making a children’s book from it now. How to walk between worlds without getting torn apart.

This little character, “Sticks and Bones” i’ve called him since, wore a tall hat, had a cane which could also be used as a balancing pole, and always had a slight smile, and usually a single flower on his hat—a sunflower in fact. I still often think of him as my future self talking to my younger one, and offering hope for the atmospheric journey we all take upwards.

In college, when i first heard about Philipe Petite, back before everything was documented, his symbolic stunt of walking between the world trade centers, a prophetic stunt as it turned out, for I was also there the day those symbols fell; i always thought, that’s amazing, but he is going lateral, in my vision I was going vertical gradually.

In my story, the fellow can also go back and forth between the city’s rooftops and the source of song or heavenly realm. Heaven also is not depicted as everyone in bliss, but as everyone very creative and still learning things.

I’m going to work on this little story again, for all the kids who want to keep climbing towards the stars! Regardless, interesting how when young we make up stories, that we need, in order to know our own!

Learning how to tell your life narrative through different mediums like fairy tale or visual art is a way to remember who we really are. That especially is helpful at certain seasons of life, and builds trust in the Narrator! The One who is telling your story, wants to finish it!

I still love helping people find their true stories and express them. What our lives have to teach can be expressed symbolically, in short! Know your story, to keep telling it, or rather having it be told!