a much-tempered joy

Today, Spring's buds are in ice -
encased
silenced
stilled:

an uncertain beauty.

Still, the Light is let in and will, in time,
release
resound
enliven:

a much-tempered joy.

artifice

linoleum skin stretched

over plasticine bones

makes for brittle landings

as one leaps into life.

who made this lame artifice?

to whom can we post a return,

and demand an exchange

for something more resilient?

something that bruises and heals,

something that bleeds and scars,

something that lives and dies,

something born to leap and love.

a Mother maybe, but no hen

Somewhere in scripture it says God's a Mother Hen.

Well, I ran into Her today, and let me just say that

even though She may be quite a Mother,

She ain't no hen.

Perched on the branch, She quickly raised her head at my approach and turned a sharp, black eye. She must've deemed me safe, trivial - or both - because just as suddenly She dropped her head and sank a hooked bill, with a dull phut, into the pile of red flesh gripped between Her talons.

She spit out tufts of unsatisfying fur, and it softly fell to the ground. She tore at the silvery lining of the creature's gut until She stood tall once again with a bloody noodle in her mouth. She gulped it down. Nothing stained Her proud, white breast as She gorged to fullness on this small life, making it Her own.

She was stunning.

She was terrifying.

And I was not inclined to cozy-up under Her wing.

winter hedgerow cries

winter hedgerow cries,

yielding to north wind:

this great reed

played by a great breath

harmonics of

dry husks on an empty cob,

straining, cold wood,

and a sheltered sparrow

O this heart-song,

guiding steps

to the trail's end!

eyes of a an old friend

eyes of an old friend

bear more wrinkles in these days -

and smile with more light

on the wind

there are stories told

by this prairie wind blowing

across the gravestones.

a love poem

snow, being this snow -

falling, draping, melting -

creates a new landscape.

river, being this river -

flowing, joining, carving -

makes a new path.

we, being this we -

having, holding, releasing -

die into new worlds.

not an opportune time

scripture text: Luke 5:1-11

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, ²he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets. ³He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. ⁴When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’ ⁵Simon answered, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’ ⁶When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. ⁷So they signalled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. ⁸But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ ⁹For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; ¹⁰and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ ¹¹When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.


a reflection

It isn't really an opportune time for any of this to be happening. It's a terrible time for Jesus to stop by the shore and ask to borrow a boat for a teaching. The disciples just got in from a long and unsuccessful night of fishing; they're tired and still have more chores to do before getting some rest.

It is not the ideal time for Jesus to ask even more of them: Get your nets and put out into deeper water and let's do some more fishing! One can imagine the weary fishermen's thoughts: "Um, how about NOT doing that!" (Or, perhaps something a little more salty.)

It's not an opportune time for Peter to be confronted with an apparent healer and "holy man." Peter seems very much in touch with his own dark side at this moment: "I'm a mess! You don't want to have anything to do with the likes of me. Leave me alone."

And, as far as most everyone in the story except Jesus is concerned, it certainly is not a good time for Peter, James and John to be dropping their nets, leaving behind their livelihood, responsibilities and families and heading off to follow this stranger who could very well be a charlatan or some sort of weird cult leader. It seems like such a ridiculous and rash decision. Surely they have other considerations to take into account before heading off in this impetuous way!

It seems to be a quite common human impulse, to want to wait until conditions are favorable before we are willing to step onto new ground or accept a new challenge or possibility.

And, sometimes, if I choose to wait until conditions are just perfect, I never begin at all.

"I'll go back to school once life settles down a bit more."

"I'll quit smoking when the weather gets nicer!"

"I'll be happier once I get through today . . . this week . . . this year . . ."

"I'll take some sabbath time, some reflective time, once I've checked off a few more things on my 'to do' list."

Certainly, there are some things that require that we wait until an opportune time before we move or act. For instance, I am not about to go out and plant my tomatoes or basil in the garden this week. I'd have to break through a layer of snow and ice, and even then it would be a very unwise and untimely thing to do!

Or, if reconciliation is needed in a broken relationship, sometimes we must wait until there is readiness on the part of both persons before proceeding with some layers of that healing effort.

Yet, the story above (and the whole of the gospel story) stands as a reminder that this is not how it is with the God who is Love. God does not require all conditions to be perfect in order to act. God does not need you or me to be perfect in order to call us or to shine out through our lives in love. In fact, it is probably true that when we think we've got our act together and all our ducks in a row, we are most deaf and blind to the One who is calling upon us and wanting to lead us more deeply into life.

Like those first disciples, we're a mess. By the grace of God, we're a fine and beautiful mess! And it is not necessary for us to be otherwise in order to be loved, or to love.

running hot and cold

when hot, I seek cool

when upset, I want solace

why not choose to stay?

when love casts out fear

Beloved, let us love one another,
because love is from God; everyone who
loves is born of God and knows God.

No one has ever seen God; if we love
one another, God lives in us,
and God's love is perfected in us.

There is no fear in love,
but perfect love casts out fear;
for fear has to do with punishment,
and whoever fears has not
reached perfection in love.

We love because God first loved us.

- 1 JOHN 4:7,12, 18-19


Fear is one of the most profound and powerful human emotions. Thank goodness we have a capacity for it! Fear has a remarkable power to help us focus on and respond to threats and dangers that are immediate. When we are gripped by fear our brain casts off any extraneous thoughts, our perception narrows, our mind literally closes so that we can concentrate on what is most necessary and important for our survival.

We see only the mother grizzly bear and the two cubs, and the simple but quite important fact that we are standing in between them. We've suddenly lost interest in the beautiful lupine flowers we were admiring by the trail, and the glorious clouds we were watching in the sky. Gone is any thought of what we had been doing in the past or where we were thinking of going in the future.

The fear-full brain sets off a chain reaction of electrical impulses and chemicals, preparing our body for one of three primary fear responses: fight, flight, or freezing.

Granted, we experience fear at varying levels, and it isn't always a mad-mama-grizzly-bear-sort-of-situation that sets it off. It may be something as simple as walking into a room for a meeting and seeing a person at the table whom I've sought to avoid because I've felt hurt or threatened by him in some way. That is a lower grade of fear, but it still has a direct and significant impact on how open my mind is to options in that moment, and the judgments and assumptions I may make about him and that situation. It may result in various forms of fleeing, fighting, or freezing in my engagement with him and others.

It can be an important exercise at times to ask ourselves:

What am I afraid of here?

How did I learn this fear?

When I feel this fear, how does it shape my attention, my living and my relationships?

It seems that we learn our fears in part through direct experience. For instance, I have a deep fear of avalanches because I once experienced one on the side of a mountain. But we can also be taught to fear things without ever having had a direct experience of them. I've never had the experience described above, the encounter with a grizzly and her cubs, but I've learned that it is to be avoided! I fear it happening when I'm backpacking in grizzly territory.

I have acquaintances who fear recent immigrants to this country - those with visas and those without - because they are worried they will take their jobs and ultimately "ruin our communities." This fear is not based on a direct experience of any kind; it is simply what they were taught and what they have chosen to believe.

I often wonder how much fear is really at the root of so many of our human conflicts. Certainly, when it is present in a conflict, it makes it far more difficult to see possibilities for reconciliation and peace. When there is fear in my being, it becomes increasingly difficult for me to see past my own self and my own safe havens.

I also feel an increasing sadness at the fear that is taught and nurtured in religious traditions, particularly in my own Christian stream of faith. I find no evidence that we humans possess an innate fear of God. Just like many of our fears, this must be taught and learned.

When my son was just a toddler, he and I were playing in the living room when our front door blew open. He made his way to the door and looked out onto the porch for a time. Then he swung the door shut. I asked, "Did you see anything?" In reply he said, quite matter of factly, "God came in." Then he returned to his play, as if this was a very normal and even welcome experience.

The young child knows no fear of God unless it is taught. So why do we teach our children about a fearsome and threatening God when time and again the message of God in the scriptures is: "Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid because my love is stronger than your fear"? This is the very message of the Good News of Jesus who was constantly meeting the fearfulness of people with love.

How much does our fear close and lock doorways in our being and in our communities, so that it is all but impossible for us to witness the God who wants to come in? How does the practice of love - with its patience, kindness, freedom from arrogance and rudeness, and its ability to hope all things, believe all things and endure all things - help us cast out the fears that bind us and cause us to fight one another, flee from one another, or freeze before one another?

We love because God has first loved us. It is the very fiber and breath of our being, if we will only awaken to it.