The Place

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The Place

The surprise of hearing my own voice

like seeing slivers of light filtered between the trees

The words are whispered which I could have missed

Words of encouragement, a push

My eyes are closed, my attention sharpened

I am resting a bit after walking long

My breathing is trying to catch up with my steps

In trying to reach my goal I struggle

There are benches, handrails, sources of spring water

I am vulnerable but not feeble.

I am not alone, or helpless

Though night is approaching I am not lost.

Is it the wind or spirit descends from above the trees

A voice telling me a place in eternity

The place where I am going.

 

Struggle

A glass of wine and rain on a March afternoon

She says she just visited Morocco

Ate a lot of foods served in tagines.

 

I struggle to know

The imperfections of a place

To find a solution, an honest quest

Some look familiar, others look relevant

A little twist, a little nudge can move small stones

Inspiring but not enough to tackle boulders

Unheroic simplicity to a balanced life.

Even busy exhausting life

Can point to God

With his never absent mercy and love.

To seek God is not for a day or a month

It’s not a pilgrimage

It’s a lifelong task, I will find in him

“The ultimate reasons for things.”

Sometimes we feel dead in our faith

Sometimes we feel invigorated like spring

The desert of lent is not devoid of life

“Rise, do not be afraid.”

Search and Work

Search and work

Search the depths of your life experience

for revelations of the sacred

Maybe they are ordinary

Maybe they are unnoticed

God is always working for us to find him

Is he beyond my comprehension?

I have to observe silence and be attentive.

With my human frailty I have to work harder

Not only in prayer but in faith

Selfishness and pride in spiritual ventures of disguises

Are difficult to discard without grace.

It’s a feast to plant and to harvest

With divine help.

At the end of day

I wipe sweat on my forehead

Thanking the Lord for the work done.

A Task

A Task

A point is tiny

but can make a difference

After a long series of words

can make one weary

a point or a period

can be a savior

a place to pause, rest

You can try

after a long succession of tasks

to breathe deeply

have a drink of water

a moment can brighten

you are ready

for the next task

or even kiss a girl.

 

Time in the woods

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A time of windy days, of falling leaves

Trees of fertile, intricate roots, anchored

Rarely do we enter the woods

As if we are afraid bears or snakes may cross our path

Thursday afternoon or any day,

Any ordinary day, is a day of sauntering,

Luminous time of spending an afternoon

Without concern of looking backwards

Not to imagine but to experience kindness of time passing,

To experience ourselves vulnerable and alone sheltered in the woods,

I like to think distant birds return because of me, a selfish notion of enticement,

Dreams die not because of unimportance

Though lustrous, their solace is celebrated no more

If you are struggling just to survive, are you missing much of life?

I encounter the homeless and heard of refugees

They crowd the margins, tiptoeing the edge of the cliffs,

The deep sea below and jagged rocks.

Each morning they look for a clean place

to be alone.

Life of abundance, life of scarcity, life of loss

And the liminal spaces between

What are the life’s possibilities and questions?

Intense experiences challenge the boundaries.

Solirude. Tumult. Arrested time.

The book I’m reading, page 37, asks,

“What’s the measure of your worth?”

Priceless, I shouted.

Choices

We lose sleep because we want

To know if our life has meaning

What’s the meaning we are looking for.

I pray for the Holy Spirit to help me

I went to see my primary physician today. Seeing a physician is a confirmation of our mortality. We are mortals. We are subject to decay. It’s a morbid reality.

When we pray we affirm our hope for immortality.

We should realize both conditions offer us a chance for greatness. Greatness means steps of extraordinary work. Greatness is immortality in the eyes of man and God. 

My doctor told me I have work to do. 

Blind tasting

A pause from blind wine tasting
Then walking to an open amphitheater
Empty at the moment but with a promise
Live performance and an audience in two months
That’s how we look at time
Flowing, not always unbreakable, sometimes sidetracked
Returning back at the table, a new flight of wine
It’s harder to know the correct vintage and varietals
Noticing mixtures of tiny deviations
We are students of perfection eager
To extend the reach with misses and recoveries
Without showing true ignorance
We faintly know how to breakthrough
The boundaries and gain insights
To master the test of senses
A simple title of sommelier
Or it can be to master the erotic pantomime,
The courtship of the birds of paradise
We will all receive a slice of blueberry pie.