Tag Archives: Holy One

I am thankful for…

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My feet
to step on Mother Earth
connecting me to her
and all that grows beneath
and rises above to meet the breath of day.

My lungs to breathe in Life.
My eyes to watch Moon
cycle in remembrance of
my fragility and fiercness.

My skin
to touch the Sun’s warmth in my heart
and know his fire burn to ash
when I must begin anew.

My nose to smell lilac and rose, pine and rain, and doggie breath.
My ears to hear crow and whispered wind, roaring waves,
and
the deep stillness of You within.

Lips and arms to hug and kiss you…
my love, my Bean, my dear sweet friends,
the children of this Earth,
each and every one of you.

You.

…..

Happy day of gratitude and joy.

May compassion be the way for this day
with gentleness and love for all – even the hard ones.

Munay. Aho. Amen.

Lexanne

Winter Geese, the Solstice

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Winter Geese.jpg

 

If I hadn’t lifted up to see,
taken my eyes from my path,
you would have passed from sight
without a hint of your glory.

I was breaking new ground,
a new snow, new for me,
my feet to hold me firm,
but you startled me.

A path was there, other
imprints to follow, guide,
iced but sure, not my size but
there to lead.

I stepped abreast,
aside the clough and rents,
into fresh snow
where no road could be discerned,
and then your call.

I understand, fear no more to
stay me within rimy fissures. I feel
your soft earth beneath powdered
snow, my eyes above to see your sun.

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.
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Author’s Note:

We finally had a good snowfall. Good for how snow now comes. Not as much as it use to. Dryer winters. Less cold. Weather has changed.

Yet, there is much that doesn’t change. Winter Solstice comes again and new Light re-enters. But if I am too connected to the path, the path is all I see.

I must remember to look up, especially when I am called.

My doggie, Benny, gets me outside, a lot. He now has a coat and boots and we walk in all but the coldest weather. It’s good for me, not only physically but for my soul.

I look up more. I’m less afraid to step off the beaten path. I hear our Holy One’s voice that I once ignored, or maybe, couldn’t hear…

 

May you find Light within, and release yourself to allow it to shine out.
May you give Compassion as your gift in this holy season and beyond.
May you walk the new year softly upon this Earth honoring All…
creatures, plants, rocks and stars…
for we truly are One.

Happy Solstice.

Amen. Munay. Aho.
Lexanne

Undercurrent

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Even as early winter ice petrifies,
glazing what is open to outlying sovereignty,
an undercurrent flows unceasingly.

When moon is dark, geese yet adhere to flight,
their path laid out by pricks of light,
an endless artery towards journey’s end.

As my head is cradled in night’s dream
I feel your eternal breathsound within,
your whispered comfort that I am Love.

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Author’s Note:

In this Advent season as we move towards Winter Solstice and new birth of Light…
In this time of political uncertainty and fear…
In these days of lengthening darkness…

May you flow through your days, not fighting against,
but moving to the song of our Truth.

May you fly through the depths trusting
our Light will lead us on our journey.

May you be held up in the breath of our Holy One
and fill your lungs with the certainty of compassion.

Munay,
Lex

Rose Yellow

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There is a bush of rose yellow where bloom tightly binds
through first frost protected by bough of
precious crabapple and wall of brick and mortar.

The few last petals cling to stem,
thorns useless for no passerby would pluck
such ragged bud to prove one’s love.

I clear away all that presents itself boldly just for show,
to see your grip as though it’s spring awakening.

Here I am comforted by your gentleness,
emboldened by your sense of strength in your own being,
and conceive that which only you know resides within.

 

Warrior

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Do you know the tenacious bee,ae0a76c6-1da1-4dfd-b73c-4cb7327ca164.jpg
one who moves from bloom
to bloom without fail, without
regret, without losing faith…

Do you know water as it
runs cold from snowed
peaks, down to settle in
low places, without question
to its purpose, without fear…

Do you know the sun as it
pushes above the horizon
without falter, without doubt
since before time that we remember
until time when it is burned out…

Do you feel your heartbeat,
a gift given, one you cannot
contain, one that speaks to
you in every moment, at each turn,
in every breath, unwavering passion…

Warrior,
one who does not abide in fear,
acknowledges its impossible grip,
but leaves it to shrivel unfed.

Warrior,
who is built on faith.

Warrior,
who opens space
for that which will be,
that without ego.

Warrior,
who trusts and moves
in rhythm of heartbeat.

Warrior
who releases all to the One who Is –
a marriage without question,
a union of tenderness,
a hand fasting of strength
to move a mountain,
if such a thing be needed.

You are warrior,
born to trust,
made to honor,
sent to be you.

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.
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Author’s Note:

I once had a discussion with one dear to me who when I read a poem about being a warrior, a dismayed looked came upon the face of my friend. It must have seemed unlike me to consider myself a warrior. In my friend’s mind, possibly, understanding a warrior to be one of violence.

If I place myself into a historical context I would probably be a hippie – peace and love and all that jazz. I struggle with eating meat, wearing leather, supporting the zoos. Trash. Oh, the waste. I don’t seem to have anything warrior about me, in the traditional sense of war.

Today I was once again presented with the idea of warrior – one of strong conviction, not violence; respect and honor, not ego.

To be a warrior doesn’t mean I am going to pick up a weapon. On the contrary, I see no purpose at all in carrying guns. Yes. That includes hunting. No war. No pesticides. No boxing or football. No winners or losers. No Game of Thrones or even Harry Potter. Violence is much too pervasive in all we do. I know. I eat meat. I love Harry Potter. I am working on this contrary life of mine.

But I am warrior.

Some call it stubborn. I am also a Taurus. Maybe that plays a part.

In these past four years, especially since January, I have come to acknowledge and embrace my Warriorself – in my faith, in my love, in making my life along a new path. I embrace new ways, ideas, and thought that aren’t new but ancient. And people who are of nature and see our Holy One in all and in everything have stepped graciously into my life. No boundaries or creeds to accept or hide within. Just opening, opening to all in wonder and joy. No fear. No fear.

It is astounding. The path is wide enough for everyone. The gifts to share are stunning if I quiet myself like a warrior, learn to listen, really hear and understand. Stay open to whatever may happen. Make room for those new voices and their gifts who are presented to me, and to welcome all.

It is not perfect or easy, but I am not giving up.

I am warrior.

I hope my friend understands.

May you stand in stillness,
warrior, listening deeply
to our Holy One’s voice.

May you walk in lightness,
warrior, in honor and
respect of all life,
all that is holy.

May you see with eyes
wide and free,
warrior, open stance
accepting of the gift Divine.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Aho,
Lexanne

 

Above is Luna, my new rattle.
I love the gift of her into my life.
Made of leather, sitting on leather.
Oh, my contrary life.
One side is this lovely deep blue signifying the dark Moon.
And, then, the other side is ever so lightly tinted blue
for when she is full.

 

 

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Warrior dancer Gillian Murphy
Photo by Ken Browar and Deborah Ory, NYC Dance
Found on Musetouch Visual Arts Magazine, Facebook.
Project.https://www.facebook.com/nycdanceproject/timeline

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“The two basic qualities of warriors
are sustained effort and unbending intent.”
by Carlos Castaneda | Artist unknown
From Dreamwork with Toko-pa
on Facebook

Water and Seeds

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Water and Seeds
An Easter Blessing

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Deep within
I enter my garden,
winter passed,
snow melt prepares
for new life.

Barefoot I linger,
loam filters through
my fingers,
heady rich earth
to be seeded.

That which sprouted,
flowered, faded and
browned, now feeds
ground to offer new life.

I am grateful for
all that came forth
to bear my soul,
weed as well as
blossom.

My winter job to
winnow the finished,
resolved.

I hold seeds of reverence
for our Holy One.

I hold seeds of gratitude
for our Gift.

I hold seeds of joy
that I am beloved.

I hold seeds unknown
that will surprise.

I hold seeds of heirloom knowledge
to remember what once nourished.

And I hold seeds of all,
each a universe that
we may grow as One.

I inearth with all seeds
this day of beginnings.

I sing and dance with them
my delight and joy.

.

.

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Author’s Note:

Easter. Spring Equinox. Full Moon.

Our Holy One gifts us many paths to transformation.

Some of us have walked this Holy Week to Easter Sunday in the shoes of those who watched and were unable to stop the horrors. We can only feel the despair and pain through our eyes of experience. We wonder what can we do? How can we transform the world into a place where compassion and acceptance and love prevail? But we know the answer, the root command – love one another. It is the way to resurrecting that which has been lost or forgotten.

Some of us have watched the Moon. Light that is full, then fades. And cycles once more as it did for the ancients and now does for us, and will do for those who come after us.

Some of us welcomed a new year of growth as snow buried us deep into itself making us wonder how life can survive. Even still, we understand the need for the water it will become. And we also know that deep within where our loving God resides, we will thrive because we are beloved and abundance is always present.

All of us walk the path of resurrection, from seed to bloom to something dying in us or away from us, only to be given another chance. The Holy Wheel never ceases turning, will never abandon us.

We will plant again, hopefully transformed by what has passed. We will grow to endless possibilities of being Love and Life and Laughter.

Enjoy. Easter day is ours to revel in and to share. It is our transformation to celebrate.

Happy Easter. Joyous Spring. Stand in the glory of the Moon that lights our darkness. We are blessed.

Amen. Amen. Amen.
Lexanne

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New-Eyed Lent

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ANewLent.jpg

I began my Lenten journey much earlier than I realized.

Christmas night we saw a full moon, a rare occurrence. A new beginning. A new life born to us once again. I am finding comfort and wisdom in our Holy One’s creation, the moon. Her cycles are a connection to nature at its most ancient. She is constant in the way of gentle guidance, not a nagging pedagogue.

Through January I experienced many losses, those stepping through the veil into a new cosmic Life.

As Luna cycled large to small and back once more, I am able to take comfort in her faithfulness, a presence holding me firm. She is a reminder of our cycles.

And so I am at Lent, seeing it with new eyes.

A dark moon greeted us two days before Ash Wednesday. The dark moon cannot be seen, our shadow covering her. Hiding Sun’s light. Giving me the peace and still of darkness. Allowing time to not see clearly. Being blind so I can listen.

I made some drastic changes to my life, releasing a love and a passion for now, knowing a different path is needed. Listening, I realize that I must rest and hear yet more deeply.

So I returned to a place of silence to begin once again.

In the dark of night beneath a cross hung high above an altar, I entered my daily meditation. A light shown brightly on Him, the rest of the sanctuary and myself in blackness. When I opened my eyes, I again asked the haunting question, “Why?” This image? What is it that I am being asked to understand?

I know it is not about Him “dying for my sins.”  That was a past life. It just doesn’t make sense any longer on so many different levels.

Last year I explored Magdalene. I wrote a monologue based mostly on the Gospel of John. I walked her path and listened to her voice.  I came to understand the “Why?” but only partially.

I came to understand that we are deeply loved, but we just don’t get it.

Each and every one of us, each and every creature, each and every thing made, is a vessel containing our Holy One’s grace and love and being to be given away freely. There is no bottom to this gift. We won’t run out. We truly are the hands and feet and eyes and minds of God on earth in the cosmos. But we just don’t get it.

So Jesus God, came to show us that we are so loved, so powerful in what we do, that He became a person, just like you and me. He was a man who walked on this earth, loved, cried, and also needed help understanding. The Syrophonecian Woman was a teacher, as many others He would encounter who would inform his life.

We are Wisdom.

It is within each of us. So much so, Jesus also learned from us.

Jesus came to us to help us see what we can do as people, how to look into each other’s eyes and see Spirit in ourselves. Care for all the things on earth, because everything is made of stardust, our Cosmic Source. There is no disappearing or loss, just transformation.

Then why did Jesus have to die?

“Only the suffering God can help.”
Dietrich Bonhoeffer

In Bonhoeffer’s words, I came to understand that God understands our struggles. And Our Infinite Love cannot leave us because we are Oned. Yes, we will suffer but Spirit is here within us. Only we don’t always realize it, or help others find it through their pain and suffering and hate and fear.

Earth dies every year to remind us life is a struggle. Luna cycles from darkness to full light to remind us Light is always here, even if we can’t see it. Everyone and every creature dies and moves through the veil into cosmic Oneness. We are constantly transformed.

Lent is no longer a time for me to put on sackcloth, suffer, moan, and ask forgiveness.

Lent is a new beginning slushing through the melting ice that creates such a great muddiness, that sloppy rich earth from which new life will sprout.

I walk this Lent in darkness and stillness
to hear my Loved One’s voice.

I remember the times I didn’t look long enough
to see Spirit in each being, person and animal,
I meet. Or care for the living earth
or cobbled stuff that fills this physical plane.

I move to accept myself absolutely
for my past ignorance and rejoice
in the beauty and love I share from Within.

I remember the root command,
love one another.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Lexanne

A grateful heart to Eileen Terry and her gift of
*Thomas More, Original Self, Living with Paradox and Originality
to inform my prayer.

 

The Gift – David Nevue

Diana Butler Bass
Grounded
Finding God In the World
A Spiritual Revolution

A Podcast with Rob Bell

 

Holy Heretic

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Photo by Niko Pekonen

 

It is a leap of faith, not a loss of one.

A leaf deepens into rich shades,
a gift of time and experience.
Audaciously, it releases from what was,
a liberation away from nourishment
no longer adequate,
loosening into the fall.

Crashing to awakening.

It crumbles and molds into earth,
itself now food for roots to overwinter.
Then returns once more, ready
to re-bud, to burst open,
not of its own accord,
but that of Oneness.

It is the way of a holy heretic.
I un-label myself,
open to the Holy One,
an ordination of new birth.

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Author’s Note:
Something happens inside of me when I watch the extraordinary creativity of The Piano Guys. It’s not just their musicality, but their masterful technical and production value as well.

Or when I see a spellbinding performance such as Hamlet that was shown live from the Barbicon last year. I was touched, weakened, heart-wrenched by Ophelia’s mad scene in a way I never before experienced.

Or the dance from my favorite reality show, So You Think You Can Dance, when That Leap happened, I gasped. We had it recorded and played it again, and again, and again. It still takes my breath away.

Or when a photograph captures the essence of an animal as in the wolf above by Niko Pekonen.

When I experience stunning art…

…there is something in my soul that jumps and screams, “I want to create like that!”

Inside of me I am a Creator. I know that. That is my blessing. It is my biggest joy and darkest heartbreak. When I experience great art, deep within my solar plexus I feel such profound acknowledgement of the Divine it’s hard to breathe. I know that I, too, am meant to create in some way. Not like those above, but in my own way.

I struggle to find that way.

When I try to make a plan, forge a road, grasp tight to make it work, it doesn’t. It’s been an eyeopening journey to realize that it’s not my plan. I wasn’t listening, or maybe not allowing myself to hear the Voice. I am now. It’s not for me to make it happen. It’s not for me to corral others into my web to help me attain it. When I do, I fall crashing to awakening.

It hurts. It should. Sometimes it takes pain to get my attention, especially when I’m holding the noose.

I’ve come to realize it’s not the extraordinary that I need to reach out to and try to be. I must simply be who I am. But finding that was the rub. I am getting there. I also understand that there will be more pain in release, followed by more time of quiet and listening. It is the Divine road I yearn to discover. I need to liberate myself and allow it to open before me in its own magnificence and time.

I am in a much bigger place than I was a few years ago when I began to let loose of old traditions, habits, and thoughts. I set out and tried to navigate on my limited knowledge of who I was and what I do.

I understand more now…

…and I’ve changed.

I am ready to pack up my tent once more…and listen to the Heartbeat, our Holy One within. The berth is so much wider and more wondrous than I ever imagined. I will never be one to camp in permanence. I realize now that this is okay. All will be well.

It is a leap of faith, not a loss of one.

Lexanne

 

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Undone

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When ghostlike fog wrapsDoro3
itself around your arms,
be wary if you stay.
There is temptation
to welcome softness, allow
a mantling about and through
palms outstretched,
fingers sans raiment.
But its demands are fierce.

There is impregnable beauty
if you do pause as cold
descends stilling fog’s path.
Majesty in each mounded
crystal cling, appendages
knitted one to another,
a new glove and cloak.
Astonishment in delicacy,
an artistry in lethal cold.

I reach to you,
as trees on winter mornings,
undone. My once summer
facade laid bare,
a deathly inevitability.
No longer hiding my array,
I am yours to draw,
an artist’s form
for you to mold and pattern me,
a remarkable fragment of
your bewildering eternity.

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It’s not always easy to see grace.

It is in letting go of what we think we are that we become what we must be.

You see, sometimes the Divine is not warm and fuzzy. Sometimes our Holy One comes through cold and harsh demands that make it difficult to realize the beauty unless we still ourselves and take the time to acknowledge it and experience it for what it is.

Nature is a threshold into the Divine. The snow crystals on tree limbs in early January were astounding. Fog hung thick as the bitter cold arrived. The fog, no longer able to stay afloat, settled on trees and turned into new forms of winter wonder. Many photos of this found their way into my life. My friend, Dorothea Madry, graciously allowed me to use her photo to pair with today’s poem.

Enjoy the cold. The barren trees. The icy mounds. You never know what gifts they bring.

Lexanne

 

Click here if you would like to receive this as a weekly newsletter, Journey/lex.  It arrives either Friday or Saturday each week. I would love to have you join me along my journey.

Diviation

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It was a mud pie, dusty ground swirledDSCN1255
into water from a brass nozzle. I mixed
a thick concoction to please my eye.
Delicious would never be an
accurate description.

I found the ones that sparkled
hidden among plain granite pebbles,
quartz chips, slips of mica, only those
that caught my eye were treasure
for my pocket.

I peddled hard uphill, long
and slow, patient for the payback,
quick though it be, a fly down,
foot push paused, eyes squinting
against summer air across my face.

Ease of childhood’s wonderment
weeps efficiently through my grasp
to leave behind hardened opinions,
germane novelties, stilled wheels.

I set aside wide-eyed wonders
where magician coins awed,
grass stained knees scouted out
crawlies, tender arms rocked
a goodnight tale. I forgot
there is no need to orchestrate.

I turn back, shake off the dust,
open my palms,
liberate my tunnel vision
to meet your sweetness
once again,
eternal anticipation
of my return.

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Author’s Note:

“Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.” Mark 10:15

As I grew into adulthood, I left behind something dear. The wonder of play and nature became a frivolous activity left for vacation time. But the more tragic part of growing up was assuming that I needed to control my life. I forgot the freedom of leaving my worries in the hands of someone more compassionate and wiser and loving than myself. I forgot there is Someone who knows me inside out, my needs, and what I can be.

I believe our Holy One gave us our child time to get good practice in surrender, leaving worry to itself. It was the time to trust and learn to live with abandon the gifts we’ve been given.

May I fall back into childhood simplicity,
that I may see your face, feel your embrace
and know all is well.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Lexanne