Shining Spirit

May I have the courage to make the journey today, the strength to see it through, the wisdom of those who dreamed Discovery into being, and a determined reliance on The Presence who set all the stars in place and calls me to the adventure.

Does it matter that one blue flower lives on the edge of the pathway that disappears into the shadowy woods?

Does it make any difference?

Far from the path that crosses the woods,

away from sounds of laughter and play,

in a place where no boot has scattered brown leaves

and the soft snow of winter rests low on the branch,

pine trees sing in an October breeze,

harmony unmatched in concert or choir.

The earth, moist and fertile, pulses in time

with a melody formed by crackling leaves

as a deer and her fawn move cautiously near

the edge of an ice-crusted, shimmering pond.

Paint on canvas could never portray what the

eye and the heart witness that day.

High in the top of a snow dappled pine,

on a limb that stretches to touch the clear sky,

the voice of a bluebird announces the birth

of a song that will dance with the moon and the stars

on its way to a galaxy hanging in space,

the gift of the forest and the rich, living earth.

I am shaped and formed by the potter’s hand

as a container to hold life. It is my choice, granted

in love, about what kind of life will fill this simple

creation. Each day I choose, from each encounter I

choose, from my work, my decisions, my failures and

my accomplishments I choose. May the strength of courage,

the gracefulness of hope and the amazing diversity of life

display my gratitude to the potter who offers opportunity

and the freedom to create.

Early morning, before the sun wakes, sitting at the kitchen table with hot coffee and a dear friend, talking and laughing, remembering. A blessing.

Receiving the hospitality of a neighbor, warm and genuine welcome, vanilla ice cream over apple crisp, conversation that deepens friendship. A blessing.

Warm bed in a cold night, comfort and security, peaceful rest, renewal. A blessing.

Count your many blessings.

Name the times when the Mystery touched your life this day. Name them and be glad.

When the last prayer is said and the mourners go home,
carry me down to the ocean’s edge
that I might hear the rollicking surf
and sing one last song with the circling gulls.
Set me down on moist sand strewn with
seaweed and shells, near the place where
tidepools reflect the moon’s glow.
There I will welcome vibrant new life
borne in the froth of the incoming tide.
Be poised and ready for the sight of a star
streaming across the western sky,
then cast me high in the favoring wind
toward the tail of the comet
splitting the night.
And I will grasp the ephemeral,
streaking light and be off
on a grand and glorious
ride toward the gentle
beat of creation’s
heart.

Dust covered his feet and his face.
The road to Damascus, rutted and
unfriendly, scarred by chariot wheels and
columns of smart stepping Roman elite,
stretched into the distance before him.
Saul was deep in thought when the
brilliant flash of light struck, knocking him
to the ground where he curled into a
fetal knot.

“Get up, Saul, get up and tell me why you
persecute me.”  The disembodied voice
seemed to come from the clear morning
sky but no one, neither Saul nor his
traveling companions, could see the
attacker.  “Who are you?” Saul’s voice
cracked from dust and terror.  It was
in this moment that Saul realized he
was sightless, blinded by the blazing
light.  Even if someone stood in front
of him, Saul could not make out a
face or physical features.

“My name is Jesus,” the voice replied.
Saul knew instantly who he was.  The
imposter, charlatan, fraud, the one
whose friends were the targets of
Saul’s vengeance.  Now, blinded,
kneeling in the dust, afraid for his
life, Saul gathered his courage:
“What do you want me to do, Lord?”

Hear again the question that spilled
from Saul’s dry mouth.  “What do you
want me to do?”  To do.  An action.
Something tangible.  What to do, not
how shall I be?  Not “What should I
believe?”  The answer:  “Get up, go
to Damascus and there you will be
told everything that has been assigned
for you to do.”  To do.  Actions.  Practical,
everyday living.

Saul’s life changed that day.  He
exchanged one way of living, violence
and hate, for a different way of living,
love and service.  Merely believing
is apparently not as important as
what one does for the Voice that
speaks from the sky or from the heart.

Dr. Pierce’s prescription:

At least one laugh 3x daily for grumpy mood,

sad face, the “blahs”, or a general feeling of “yuk”.

Can substitute chuckle, chortle, guffaw, giggle, titter,

or snigger.  Depending on age, rolling on the floor while

guffawing is allowed.

Side effects include better mood, pleasant face, happier spirit,

appreciation from family, friends, and neighbors.

Refills:  endless

Caution:  addictive and may produce feelings of

happiness, contentment, delight or joy

Recommended for people of all ages, especially

those suffering from droopy spirits.

The bill is in the mail,

marked “paid”.

I’d like to follow the leaf strewn path,

dappled with rays of the morning sun

as it winds its way through forest and glade

then falls from sight near the river run.

I’d like to hear a bluebird’s song,

relax for a while, smell the moist earth,

lay my head on a pillow of moss,

dream of tomorrow and hope’s rebirth.

The shimmering light embracing the path

marks a doorway that leads to a magical place

that transforms and renews the weariest soul,

bestowing the gift of unmerited grace.

In my mind I see this enchanting path

where welcoming light and shadows seem

to draw me into its mystery

but, in truth, it’s only a wishful dream.

I wake today in the warmth of a

soft bed, one room removed

from choices in a pantry of plenty.

At my fingertips, water waits,

the light switch promises to

remove darkness, and I am

conscious of the quiet hum

of the furnace that wraps me

in warmth on this

cold morning.

A rack of shirts, two rows

of shoes, five electronic

devices that link me instantly

to the world.  Either of my

cars can take me anywhere

I want to go.

By all counts, I live in palatial plenty.

How can I not be thankful?

How can I avoid the

obvious?