Amalgamation

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And Old Rock Man
titling to sleep, slack jawed,
eyes hallow, blue lichen
dotting rims and ridges,
I hear him laugh while years
speed as he attends, baked
under sun, iced with snow,
quenched in spring drizzle

Open palmed, eyes closed,
I feel the patter of your elfin
droplets yield their kisses,
then race to become more than I
can grasp, finally a watercourse
running through my fingers
unable to bear your presence

While braggarts and buffoons
hold court on stages
dealing fear to anyone
who will take the draw

But you and I ask,
seek and find the open door
where you and I and Old Rock Man
dance under skies harboring
moon’s extravagance and
stars’ wildness as rain
washes us away

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Author’s Note:

 

These weeks roll on.

And I wonder what the outcome of this political season of fear will produce.

But there is always hope, tenderness in the smallest of gestures.

In the madness of this week I was presented with a gift. There was a sweet and gentle apology that maybe it should have been more colorful and soft, maybe sparkly. But what was given is rough and worn, aged with wisdom.

It holds ancient stories.

It’s been a while since I’ve regularly visited Sunday scripture readings. For this Sunday I again find that the words surround me with pain and fear, all of that which I chose to leave behind. But as I dig through, I find the much needed balm. Maybe the simple voice that needs to be heard through all the words, the words that declare we are sinners. Within peaks out the real nugget. From Sodom and Gomorrah to transgressions and uncircumcised flesh all the way to the final test and selfishness, somewhere within all that hurtful dressing, I find the wisdom of our ancient but ever present shaman, Jesus.

I must open my heart enough to set my agenda aside and simply ask for what I need. When I ask, I surrender myself. I depend on Someone else. I wash my hands of trying to do it all, to be perfect. I let down my guard, release ego from its post, relax into Spirit’s arms. And once I am there, with a great deep inhale filling my lungs to capacity and then blowing out my designs, I make room for truth. I clear the smoke to be able to see.

I am loved, always have been, always will be.

I don’t need the facade of dressing up. I don’t need the filling of my ego’s bottomless cup from other sources or even with my own deeds.

I am simply enough.

Rough and worn and a bit ragged, but wiser for the wear. And stories to tell, ancient and wonderful.

May you reach to the ancients
for our Wisdom, digging
through the trappings
to find our Beautiful Mystery.

May you reach into your heart
for there is our Light shining
to illuminate our way together.

May you reach to another’s hand,
join the dance with those
who have gone before on a path
well worn but resplendent and
wide enough for all.

Amen. Amen. Amen.

Happy Full Moon Blessings,

Lexanne

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Amalgamation Choir | Live at the Library – Ksenitia tou Erota

Between

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I am filled with You
ab84545d-7af3-4f77-a7d4-4cdeae27fff4.jpg in dragonfly shimmy
two realms inhabited
between water and air,
dreamtime waxes
and wanes, I am
replete in You.

I am filled with You
bounded by moon and
sun, in balance
of wisdom and Light.
Within I trust
both pitch and blaze,
I know I am in You.

I am filled with You
as rigid crumbles into
softness, compassion
and forgiveness fill in.
I am calm in your cradle,
held tight in dear repose
under Your stars and roots.

In gratitude I see
through my heart,
not eyes, no longer
lost in appearances,
a portal opened.

I bless you, myself, 
and all around
to wake up Beingness
that flows through all,
the pathway back to You.

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.
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Author’s Note:

 

Coming home.

I understand that allowing Spirit to flow through me is the gift. When I struggle to find the right way or the right ministry or the right worship, I am lost in appearances, veiled in confusion.

I am a portal, a way for Spirit to enter the world. When I release and allow flow without attaching my harness, I am given to the world as a gift. I am not in charge. I fall away when I try to take control.

Art is my passion – writing, photography, imagery in all forms. The photos here are always mine unless I give attribution otherwise. I love to create. Right now I am filled with words and joy of PicMonkey and an iphone camera. I watch dance and hear music that lifts my soul. Theatre brings Spirit alive through real people saying words of writers, a deep ceremony.

I do my work even if there is no audience, because Spirit is always here.

And I don’t have to be “good” at it, afraid to share that it’s not perfect. I share because it is what I do and don’t need to worry about judgement. It is what I am.

Share freely of yourself. You are the gift Divine. Let go. Release. Let Spirit live through you. All is good, so very good.

 

May you sing with morning birds,
filling air with newness.

May you dance with dragonflies,
gilding sky with prisms of light.

May you speak with bees,
words of honeyed sweetness.

May you live in Spirit
opening your heart
to grace and sureness
that we are all One.

And dream this world into being.

 

Aho. Munay. Amen.

Lexanne

Consecration

If given a chance29964129-4ad3-4ceb-90b4-dee2bf301f36.jpg
I would pare it down.
I would do it all over again,
heal keen wounds
carved to make me fit.

I would do it all over again,
heel when I come to titanic doors.
If given a chance at the pair,
I’d stay in sun, not enter shade.

A chance, if I was given,
I would banquet on each juicy pear.
Again, I would do it over,
He’ll welcome my redesign.

Under skyward arm of branches wide,
feet bared to moss and stone,
tides brushing sanded earth,
and air a swirl of life I’d stand.

This temple granted all,
no one left aside,
no one banished by belief,
or refused by creed or rule,
all embraced in gifts profound.

I’d honor bird and bee,
beast and human.

I’d honor me, formed in grace
in perfect flame,
one hand in Yours, the other open,
one path for all to be.

May all walls crumble into gravel.
May all breathe in the depth of You.
And may we, everyone together,
walk each other home.

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.

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Author’s Note:

Orlando.

Another one.

I am from Colorado and a first grade teacher, too many to list now.

I am tired of boundaries, lines drawn over and within religious belief systems. The whitewashing, justifications, excuses for the arming of those who live in fear.

There have been many touching, wise, angry, heartbroken words shared this week, much more eloquent than I can summon. They pass over me once again, yet not provoking change. The only thing I can change is myself.

A full Moon is Monday, the Summer Solstice. I join with others to welcome newness, wholeness under a moon given to all without sanction. I drop the conceptions of my past by embracing the new without fear. No more systems to alienate. No more boundaries drawn. The search is over.

I consecrate myself on a new path open to all.
I step into Oneness, Compassion, and Wisdom
under sky, feet grounded to earth,
in breath of air,
this temple given to all.
I honor myself as a mirror of the Divine in you
to recognize the Divine in me.

 

This is my chance to do it again, revised.

Lexanne

 

For more on this piece, please visit JOURNEY/lex. You can also sign up here to receive it weekly in your e-mail box.

New-Eyed Lent

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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

 

Snowblind

I wish you knew how crazy you make me12274318_10206727773744914_7556958992277019281_n
like bony arms of winter trees
heavy with ice scraping across
the window, clawing the roof
in the blizzardwind of my mind
I want to scream

I wish you knew
how my naked feet catch on water
warped wood near the fridge
that leaked unnoticed for weeks,
the pleasure of sliding them
across smooth varnished floor
taken by indifference

I wish you knew
how the turn of your head
away from the opening door, brushed
aside as if I hadn’t entered, makes
me want to scream, “I am here, notice me”

I wish you knew how fire burns
when your smile ignites, your eyes
catch mine in those moments
where we meet in words shared
from ancient ones who know how hidden
souls entwine so tightly by accident, or by
some sweet mystery only known by
another’s Hand.

I wish you knew when I open my eyes you are
there in the silence of each new
beginning given and how I wish I could
tell you.

The Ladies

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St Therese of Lisieux,
what the other sisters didn’t know,
snuck off to the kitchen
to enjoy some leftover chicken.

Mary Magdalene once said,
“Don’t let it go to your head
and be careful not to fall,”
was to Peter her warning call.

St. Brigit of Kildare
was far more than just fare.
She milked cows and brewed beer
keeping others in good cheer.

Sophia, our lady of wisdom,
set herself apart from the great “hisdom.”
Her spirit wends its way
through our lives everyday.

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Author’s Note:

NaPoWriMo Day 25. A bit of silliness today following the prompt.

“And now for our prompt (optional, as always)! It’s the weekend, so I’d thought we might go with something short and just a bit (or a lot) silly – the Clerihew. These are rhymed, humorous quatrains involving a specific person’s name. You can write about celebrities, famous people from history, even your mom (hopefully she’s got a good name for rhyming with).”

I decided to go with the ladies who are currently guiding me. Such fun!

St. Therese of Lisieux

St. Therese of Lisieux

Mary Magdalene

Mary Magdalene

St. Brigid of Kildare by Joanna Powell Colbert

St. Brigid of Kildare by Joanna Powell Colbert

Pistis Sophia by Louis Janmot

Pistis Sophia by Louis Janmot

Instead, I Went to Goodwill

I didn’t go to mass today
Sunday to pray and sing
grasp how I see the world

instead, I went to Goodwill

There once was a girl
who came upon a box of ribbons
pretty ones in sherbet colors
silky but secure
she tied each to her wrists
the other ends to sherbet balloons
she happened upon along the way

balloons sherbet balloons lifting up satin ribbons a lover’s laugh Spirit words flowing from her fingertips sweet dogs friend smiles little hands covered in glue musty earth under fingernails coyote calls beneath an oyster moon hung in black suburban skies blue eyes rites and rituals question quest Word Wisdom

all tied up, together, too many
I didn’t go
to mass today

I sat under ashen winter clouds
untied a sherbet hued ribbon
a sherbet tinged balloon
diminishing into a pinprick
in ashen winter clouds

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Author’s Note:

A few weeks ago, already, I chose the word “release” for my New Year’s Word. I’ve given up on resolutions. I thought I could make good if I chose just one word. It might be working.