Ambivalence (Audio)

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I have found that most of what I write is an attempt to be descriptive of some process at work in me.  And then if I go back and look at it I find that many times it was in some ways prophetic in terms of where I needed to go next.  Or perhaps it is that this student is slow and can only take what I need in small doses and must return again and again until the lesson is finally learned.

When I wrote this piece some years ago there was a stubborn anger and a blind faith that refused to move from where I was.  It was during the beginning of the rebirth of me or at least of my awareness of the process.  Today it is less desperate anger and more a statement of faith that somehow living in the paradox is the path for me.  That in deep places I already know and am slowly developing a new language to contain the sights of the undiscovered territories of my Soul.  In the end I wonder if the idea of “choice” is a bit overrated.  Especially if the conscious options keep one blinded to that which is hidden within view.

Am I terribly weak, or terribly strong?

I am pulled between forces stronger than the earth.

Yet I am not utterly destroyed.

I may yet lose my mind or I may find it.

I am ambivalent yet I choose.

I choose ambivalence.

I wait.

I will not choose out of fear of loss.

I do not fear loss.

I fear being lost.

And the man is lost.  His fears have come upon him.

Who is he?  Where will he go?

What will he do?  What does he want?

He knows.  He waits.

He is seeking the answer to the un-thought known.

24 thoughts on “Ambivalence (Audio)”

  1. Your ways of being are wondrous and mysterious. They are unique to you. I would know you anywhere…

    Saw that quote today by Maya Angelou. It reminded me so much of you.

  2. The chamber is quiet, lit by a single candle – perhaps the one in the window, waiting for you to return. I find it comforting that the chamber is open to the air; to the night sounds, and the daylight, and the floor is carpeted with grass so I may sit, and listen, and read, and learn.

    I like seeing some of where this process began. I’ve realized that observing your process can teach me about my own.

    I like the quality of this ambivalence. It offers choice, like you’re at a fork in the road, like in the song: “once in a vision I came on some woods, and stood at a fork in the road. My choices were clear but I froze with the fear of not knowing which way to go. One road was simple acceptance of life, the other road offered sweet peace. When I made my decision, my vision became my release.”

    *listening to a voice from the past*

    In this moment, alone in this sanctuary, my greatest ambivalence is about why I’m no longer receiving your posts? Is it that my own path is about making the pilgrimage here?

  4. Well you sure as heck are wise enough to know the landscape of your life has changed. No one’s perfect. As you said in one of your other poems (at least I think it was you) we’re all cracked pots and THAT’S HOW THE LIGHT GETS IN.

    There’s an echo of something here I haven’t heard you express before.

  5. This is new? I don’t recall reading it before. A precursor to The Second Half perhaps?

    “I do not fear loss. I fear being lost.” These words brought a picture to my mind. When B was the cantor at St. Joe’s we used to go with him for mass on Sundays. I was always so affected by seeing men (of all types) come down the aisle and genuflect before they slid into their pews. It always made me think of strength under control. I think Jesus was like that.

    Your willingness to submit to this process while yet being a strong man is quite remarkable, imho.

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