A note to a friend in Grief

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This was written some months ago to a friend. We were talking about the ancient winter-time celebrations and the mysterious allure some of us feel about them. I thought that I would publish this in the hope it might be an encouragement to someone who is waiting for a new word to be spoken into their Soul.

The darkness makes the light seem so much brighter. So too are your words more poignant in the backdrop of your soul’s true grief. Our culture has an aversion to darkness with our well lit homes and cities. It seems we move robot-like through our celebrations in a most shallow disconnected fashion. True there is an occasional tingle that passes for living in our world of artificial light, but it seldom if ever reaches deep into our core. The experiences which spawned those celebrations were birthed in a world of real darkness and death and fear. It was an ancient time.  A time before the gods were cartoons or trapped in stained glass. There was no luxury of half measures.  There was only life or death, survival or not.  Joy and grief mingled in a moment, profound and alive.  Our culture promotes half life, a falseness that disconnects us from ourselves.  Sometimes our grief is merely our Soul’s longing for that which ought to be.  And it calls us out of our walking sleep toward and into our more true habitation.  It feels like death, for it is.  The death to the transient and fleeting so that the eternal might be born anew.

So, my Friend, I would not wish the darkness away from you or attempt to artificially prop you up at this time as though you were weak and unworthy. But, I will sit with you in this dark place and tell stories and share nourishment and heat. Perhaps your Soul has brought you here to answer the unspoken desire of your heart, to know, to experience the true celebration in all its passion and fear and grief and joy. That you might join in the dance your heart has always known must exist. You are a true seeker and your search has brought you to this place. It is no mistake or misstep that has led you here. It is necessary to know the dark if one would truly celebrate the light. Sometimes words and action merely serve to hide a thing, where silent stillness might reveal it.

Plus one can see the stars so much better in the darkness:) Love, honor, and respect are your due. You are my friend and I am yours.

(Her response) Plato…If its dark we will just sit and look at the stars. No artificial light is required.
Thank you for passing on the primeval torch. It’s so important to pay it forward. An old ideology and a new… They blend together so beautifully.

WordPress help for those as painfully ignorant as I

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I made a new friend a couple of days ago. I got over my head with the technical aspects of blogging so deeply I was ill. There was a real threat that my redneck roots would leave me hammer in hand with a broken computer in pieces before me. Providence or synchronicity or blind luck led me to a wonderful resource. I found Alexander who lives in exotic Northern Spain. He is my new WordPress Hero. He has written or designed or whatever a new free theme that is featured on WordPress. It called SimplifiedBlog.

http://poisonedcoffee.com/blog/2015/12/06/simplifiedblog-theme-featured-at-wordpress-org/

Couple of cool things:
It is mobile ready
There is an upgrade for only $25
The coolest thing is that for a couple more dollars this beautiful human did it all for me in one day.
He was most responsive and understandable and did everything he promised and more.
I am so thankful that I did not have to spend the night in jail and that my blog works now.
Thank you my new WordPress hero!

He is available for general consulting on large or small scales and come with my recommendation and heartfelt thanks.
Go see him at

http://poisonedcoffee.com/

A Father’s Province – Audio

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They have eyes of blue and hearts of gold.

Flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.
They are of me, yet profoundly Other than me.

Their dependence decreases, moment by moment, choice by choice, as personality and character coalesces. Soul becomes known.  Small round bodies, unsure, become angular, strong and elegant.

Hints of the ancestors glimpsed, reflected in appearance,
posture, and mannerism.
Shadows of their mother and I emerge as different facets turn,
reflected in the light of their living.

See the man arise beneath the surface of the boy.
Hints of the woman foreshadowed in the girl.
Each unique and other worldly as a snowflake,
yet familiar as my own breath.

I am startled to recognize their autonomy –
their separateness from me.
And in that sacred space between the roles we play out in Time, flashes of their glory leave me awed.

They are my equal yet better than I.

Recognition of their immortality, the deity inherent in their volition saddens, yet brings strange comfort.  I grieve the blow to my ego.

I have much less dominion over them than I imagine,
yet I am greatly more important to them than I know.

They are neither damned by my weakness
nor necessarily elevated by my substance.

They are free and I am humbled.

I am Daddy to these three souls, at least for now.

And within the bandage of Time they are to me what they can be to no other and I am to them what no other can be.

While inhabiting the boundaries of this dressing we play out appointed roles.
Yet in Eternity we will have had and shall ever be One.

They have eyes of blue and hearts of gold.

Those have been and will ever be constant through the metamorphosis of flesh, circumstance, and experience.

Those same eyes which gazed up to me at the dawn of their journey will look down upon me at the ending of mine.

And yet our hope holds fast that when Time is finally swallowed by Eternity we will then know as we have been known.

We will recognize and finally comprehend the glory
of the everlasting souls with which we have journeyed.

Hearts pure, refined, and utterly alive.

Then together we can all play once more in the presence of the One who has watched over us all.

Your Daddy loves you very much.

But, I love you more.

Painful Grace

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Bones ache

Muscles burn

Feet feel each step, every inch

Joints creak like a rusty hinge

In spite of the fluid that settles around my knees

There is white in my beard now and it’s spreading

It must be heavier than the dark brown

My back hurts from the weight

I never imagined being sore from sleeping

But maybe that is what muscle memory is

And I just remembered the last fifty-three years at once

Perhaps I crossed some threshold, some boundary I did not see

And here gravity’s effects are weightier

Or perhaps it is proportional to the distance traveled

The journey from knowing it all to realizing that I did not even know that I did not know

It has been said that if one is going to be stupid they need to be tough

Young ignorance can absorb many blows without penalty

The price is paid later and funds the reining in of the ego

Unconscious pain of youth absorbed and later converted

The birth pains of wisdom require awareness of every move and its impact

Feedback long delayed in youth are eminent and felt here in this new older place

The wear on body and soul speaks now calling me to put away childish things

Nudging me to focus on what is indeed important and a part of my Groove

Wasted energy and wrong directions require payment now

There is no longer the luxury of “one day I will”

Each day is all there is, now is all

It has always been so, and I begin to see if only through a glass darkly

So I welcome the reminders of life and its living

And am grateful for the painful grace that has brought me here