Shining Spirit

We share the pain of our friends
when suffering comes.
“What horrible thing has happened
to you?”  He stood silently.  No response.
“What savage attack have you
sustained”?

Fixed on the jagged wound,
I sat by his side in painful silence.
Soon a playful wind invited the leaves
above me to dance and as branches
swayed with the celestial music, little
healing droplets of sunshine fell upon
my shoulders, gifts from a brilliant blue sky.
In the midst of it all, a faint soul whisper
rose in my saddened spirit.
“See with your heart.”
A transition from mind to heart, an
intentional shift from thinking to being.

Heart vision doesn’t change the object
seen, only the one who sees.  Heart vision
reformats the world and in that world I
float in the exhilaration of living rather
than sitting trapped in the suffering of
brokenness.  In the Heart World birds build
nests in his strong arms.  Lovers sit in the
cool shade of his glorious emerald canopy.
Winter snows wrap him in brilliant white
robes, and he laughs when the wind tickles
and teases.  With the wound and in spite of
the wound he lives.

He stands in his brokenness not with
resentment but with a resolute determination
to be, and all the while the universe applauds.

Sometimes in life,
often when least expected,
a technicolor day shows up.
A rainbow day just after
the storm when the clarity
of the arched ribbons of
luxurious colors hurts your
eyes.  An artist’s palette
day rich in texture and
shimmering in glorious
colors splashed onto the
world from the heart of
Imaginative Love.

So it was today.

As I rest my head on the
pillow, I find it difficult
to release the day.  Neither
of us wants to say goodbye.
Night is almost here, but he will
not be able to cloud my
sacred memory nor diminish
the joy that has burrowed
deep into my soul.  The brush
stroke of the One who paints
the day is gracefully indelible.

(On the occasion of celebrating
50 years of ordained ministry.)

My Friend reassured me:  “even though you get
lost in the darkest, deepest canyon
I will find you.”

Don’t worry.

I told my beautiful child:  “even though you make
mistakes or use poor judgment,
I will never stop
loving you.”

Be yourself.

My wife said to me:  “even though you left your
dirty socks on the bathroom floor, forgot to pick
up the cleaning, and overlooked the flashing
yellow warning light on the dashboard,
I’m stuck with you.
I love you.”

It’s all about “even though”, isn’t it;
and,
Living from a deeply spiritual place is all
about “even though.”

Even though…
–the mountains rumble and roar, I won’t be afraid;
–the day is filled with reports of suffering and
injustice, I will work against them;
–I question some of my long held beliefs
and traditions, I will trust;
–I wonder about the future,
given the present,
I will hope.
–I feel so unloved and unlovable,
I am loved.

It’s all about “Even Though”, isn’t it.

Amazing how creation portrays the Sacred Love
that is the foundation of all living things.  I’d like
to meet the wren that carved out the opening
in such a lovely form.  Watch for signs of the
Sacred everywhere you go.

Within the space of a few words,
the length of one short sentence,
the classroom sank into silence.
Joy vanished, laughter fled,
propelled by a single word:
Lockdown.

Second graders don’t often sit rigid
at their desks, eyes fixed on the one
who stretches their young minds.
No matter how many times she
told them not to be afraid,
they were.

Children watch television, overhear
conversations, whisper among themselves.
Danger has always been somewhere else.
Now the terrible possibility is just
beyond the chain link fence.
The stranger.  The gun.

“Be cautious on the playground.”
“Run to the nearest teacher.”
“Stay very quiet.  Be sure
all the doors are
locked.”

Recess used to be fun.
Not anymore.
Not now.

Sometimes beauty is obvious.  Sometimes you have to look a little harder.  But it’s always worth the effort.  May each of us see both the obvious and the not so obvious today, and may our awareness transform our world.

Some mornings it looks like the whole day is going to
be uphill, and then I remember…

I woke this morning with a
head full of words.
They tumbled around in the dim
light of my brain, trying to
line up in neat rows of thought,
impatient with cloudy
consciousness.

A verb pushed his way to the head
of the line but was soon escorted
to his proper place by two
determined nouns.  Pronouns
scurried back and forth, unsure
of his or her place while adverbs
and adjectives loudly debated
whether it was appropriate
to be subject or predicate.

Words can be so annoying in the
early morning when coherent thought is
sleeping late.  Words are powerhouses
and without the companionship
of reason or compassion
they can do more harm
than good.
I once heard about a bunch of
thoughtless words that caused
an argument that led to a fight
that started a war.
Imagine that.
Words starting a war.

I have a vague waking memory
of a whispered conversation between
a sly verb and an easily influenced adjective.
“What kind of world shall we create today?”
That worries me because without
understanding and mutual concern
in the conversation, who knows what
words might do?

In the course of thoughtful living,
life altering decisions are shaped
from a recipe of careful analysis,
examined alternatives, and
reasoned consideration.
It is the wise way to live.

But on that day,
when fear hardened into
cold terror,
pondering possibilities was
the last thing in panicked minds.

No reasoning.
No alternatives.
Impulse without calculation.
Reaction not rational response.

In that breathless moment he
stepped into the pathway of death,
goodness denying the demonic,
sacrifice rising to the sacred.

No one will ever know what
went through Aaron’s mind.
We will never understand
the instant impulse to
shield the child,
save her life
and lose his own.
One died so that one could live.

The question lingering in the aftermath
is not “why did he do it?”
but “why was it necessary for
such heroism in such horror?”

To be willing to step in front
of a bullet for a friend is the
epitome of courage and compassion.
To be willing to confront the
circumstances prompting
such a sacrifice is to look into
the mirror and see ourselves.

“Greater love has no one than this,
that someone lay down his life
for his friends.”
John 15:13

Aaron Feis
Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School
Parkland, Florida
February 14, 2018

There are days when I watch
her sweep through the house,
swing the blue backpack over her
right shoulder and dash toward
the door.
I hear the soft trailing of her voice,
“Bye, Dad.  Love you.”
There is a joy that comes in that moment,
a sensation of sweetness that lingers
when I pick up the towel she used
or pull the covers up on her bed.

No one can fathom the raging pain
of knowing that she will never walk
through that door again,
never laugh at my silly jokes,
never again roll her eyes as she
ignores fatherly advice.
Never.

I sent her through that door this morning
to learn and to  laugh and to grow
into the young woman she was
destined to become.
Now the stained blue backpack
that I clutch to my chest confirms
the horrid truth:
There is madness in the air.

They tell me tears will come.
Perhaps.
Maybe tears will soften the rage
that electrifies my mind and
binds my body in this chair
facing the door, the door
that will never again
welcome her home
to my heart.