Sight Lines.........seeing God in all of life

Full Moon on the Playground

 

 

When the night mind

won’t release the curtain, the

sleepless stage becomes a playground

for hyperactive children with undisciplined

imaginations and disorganized reasoning,

 

littering the platform with strewn toys and

games, discarded dolls, and puzzles with

vital pieces scattered, turned

upside down and colorless, that

plea for reconciliation

and appeasing resolution.

 

--rLp--

Leaving Well Enough Alone

 
 

The open fire is small and contained,

inviting a close chair, a pipe

and a glass of wine,

 

the flames casual and hypnotic,

an orange glow in the timber cellar,

throbbing, making the wood

crackle and hiss, a faint whistle

from inside the grain.

 

I’m grateful for this slight breeze north

that leans the smoke back; and I don’t know

how long I’ve been staring into

my tiny arson.

 

Then with an iron tool and gloved hand

I poke the embers, maneuver the kindling, and

adjust the planks though they are ripe

right where they are.

 

Why is it so hard to just

let a really good fire be?

 

--rLp--

Just a Flesh Wound

 
 

As the blood from the cut

trickles down the right side of my palm

it finds the etched lines of my handprint,

 

discovers them open like dry creek beds

and rides them like streams and

tributaries where they join forces

 

and forge a blood river down the

prominent groove that runs

like a crescent from above my thumb to

the shore line of my wrist;

 

and just past those faint carvings

the underside of my forearm is smooth

as slate and does not divert the flow

anywhere but straight down toward my elbow.

 

I want to see how long it takes the spring

to clot and close its mouth, how long it takes

a wound to say enough,

 

how long an offense will pride itself open,

how long it takes for an artery to

make amends with its cover.

 

--rLp--

 

Fickle Fan of Winter

 

i am a fickle fan of winter,

who jeers the cold and sunless

shortened days of january

 

but applauds the way that

overnight ice glazes and

morning snow frosts

the skeleton trees on the cliffs.

 

--rLp--

Guessing Game

 

 I woke just as dawn was peeling the day,

and with my eyes closed tried to guess what

t-shirt and boxers I was wearing

beneath the covers pulled to my neck.

 

I guessed the medium blue boxers with

the gold diamonds and the grey t-shirt

with the gym logo on it.

 

I was wrong—black & grey boxers with crosshatches

of thin maroon stripes, white t-shirt

from a half-marathon.

 

That’s OK, I’ve been wrong before when

my eyes were closed, thinking

something was one way

when in fact it was another.

 

--rLp--

melt

 

 

sometimes the full sun on a cold day

is not enough to melt the snow that

loiters on the shaded side of the house.

 

sometimes it takes a good rain.

 

--rLp--

Staying Warm

 

This photo is not Stacy but it could be. On Friday in Franklin, TN the temp hovered around freezing. After enjoying lunch in a local restaurant I approached the intersection in my car where the homeless lady was selling copies of the The Contributor (www.thecontributor.org) Nashville's street newspaper written by the homeless and former homeless. Through my open window I exchanged a dollar for a copy of the paper. The lady smiled with broken teeth and said "Thank you. Stay warm."  Stay warm. With no saracasm or even intended irony this gracious homeless person standing in the cold tells me, sitting comfortably in a heated automobile with a toasty home in the distance, to stay warm. I just sort of crumbled inside.

 

I proceeded to my gym for my workout but was haunted by the kind words of the homeless woman. The workout was cut short as was the time in the steamroom. Stay warm, she said. And I was. Warm gym, soothing steamroom, hot shower.  I left and returned to the intersection and parked and walked to the lady and asked her, "How do you like your coffee?" I asked.  "Cream & sugar" she said with a slight smile. "Thank you".  I went into Panera's and came back with coffee. She seemed nervous and the eye contact was brief. "I'm Ramon, what's your name?"  "Stacy" she replied. "Thank you for the coffee".  "You're welcome, Stacy." 

 

She returned to her post on Mallory Blvd and I to my car. I don't know where Stacy is on this bitterly cold night, hopefully a shelter. I'm at home. Staying warm.

 

--rLp--

Snowflakes and Your Personal Journey

My newspaper column coming out later this week.

 

“Snow crystal formation is very sensitive to local conditions. If you consider the life of a snowflake, you find that its shape is determined by its history . As the crystal blows about inside the clouds, a developing crystal experiences ever-changing temperatures and humidity levels along the way. Each change in its local environment causes a change in the way the crystal grows. After numerous twists and tumbles, the final structure can be quite complex. And since no two snowflakes follow exactly the same path, no two are exactly alike."                                                           

( from Ken Libbrecht's "Field Guide to Snowflakes", Voyageur Press )

 

Today's personal & spiritual shape is influenced by my history--experiences, people, relationships, conversations, books, decisions, even the most seemingly insignificant events. In fact, everything since my birth has collaborated and conspired to influence my current formation. 1/100th of a degree in temperature sculpts an unduplicated snow crystal as does passing through an imperceptible change in humidity. Likewise, the smallest changes and movements in our daily life are molding us, usually imperceptibly, as though the earth’s rotation were a potter’s wheel, we being altered and smoothed in each day’s turning.

To be at any peace with who I am and where I am today is to recognize the sculpting influence of my entire life up to that moment, including the things I might wish away or prefer had happened much differently. That doesn’t mean I am to be grateful for tragedy or applaud evil (mine or someone else’s). But it does mean that I am not immobilized by despair, regret, or resentment.

 And please note that the sovereign shaping of the journey does not remove my personal responsibility. I am often amazed by how passive we can be and how much we underestimate the influence we have in our directions and outcomes.  Control is always an illusion, but influence is ever-present and vital.  Too often we watch influence sit in the driveway with the engine running, waiting for a driver, while we are by the side of the road with our thumb out, ready to hitch a ride with any experience that will pick us up. That is not contentment or peaceful living—that is complacency, laziness, and irresponsibility. “Que Sera Sera” is a song by Doris Day, not a verse in Proverbs.

Last year I was struck by a segment of an interview with NFL running back Ricky Williams who by most measures squandered his incredible talent and potential. He had neither emotionally healthy parents nor a nurturing childhood. But in response to whether he blamed his later and present troubles on his parents and upbringing said, “If I place all the blame on my past for who I am then I’ve given away all my power.  If I make this all my parents’ fault then I’m trapped because I make them the only ones who can fix me. And they can’t.”  The spiritual and emotional maturity of such words could not be more gripping if they came from a prophet or priest.

In conclusion I’m inclined to see the wisdom in the simple Serenity Prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.”

Few people are aware of the remainder of the sage prayer penned by Reinhold Niebuhr:

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
forever in the next.
Amen.

As you watch the snow falling, think of the shaping journey of each flake, and consider your own life. Accept and even honor the journey that has helped form you, and welcome the invitation to join in the further influence.

--rLp--