I was stumbling around in the dark,
bumping and bashing into things,
tripping, falling, bumbling,
wondering why I had no direction…
Then, I got clear,
found the light,
switched it on and SAW.
I made a mess
when I was crashing around blindly,
and now, in my clarity,
I see there are some repairs to be made.
To myself: It really isn’t all your fault.
To my kids: I’m working on being the patient, loving,
kind, compassionate mother you deserve.
To life: I really am grateful for you,
and I’m sorry if I ever appeared otherwise.
To God: Please just tell me, because I am so dense,
where you want me to go, what you want me to do,
what you want me to say, and to whom.
Let me stay awake now.
Let the light keep shining.
There’s a fire in my belly,
a drive to speak, to move,
to bring something up and out,
something strong, courageous,
something helpful, meaningful.
I pray to God…
Guide me to know what to do with this fire.
Let me express it in a way that it will warm
instead of burn,
help, instead of hinder.
Let this time here be meaningful.
Show me how to serve in a way
that brings us together
and lifts us up.
I’ve been searching for something out there,
sometimes catching a whiff of its fragrance
in the wind.
It would render me melancholy
to sense it but experience it
so far away,
when my heart longed for this thing
I could not know.
Sometimes it was a rush of cold air
into my nostrils
as I stepped from my grandmother’s house
into the winter night
and I’d search for the star
in the dark blue sky
that told me the light
was returning soon.
For the longest time
I feared the magic and suppressed it
much to my heart’s dismay.
The whole world seemed cold and dark
and I was trapped in a prison
of my own making.
Spirit came to rattle me out of my cage
and throw me into the light of day.
Such a fool I was,
resisting a project of God’s hand.
How can I stop the ocean from surging?
How can I move the sun in the sky?
How can I make the moon glow brightly?
How can I give the gift of new life?
I only experience these things
because consciousness pours through me.
Who made this consciousness,
the perceiver and the perceived?
My body speaks clearly.
Its language is believed.
I trust the longing in me now.
The magic in me swells alive within.
I open the door to the cold and dark everywhere
and catch its beloved fragrance on the wind.
I want to trust you, God.
But how do I trust you? I’m scared.
I can’t see you, and I’m so down
I don’t even know if you’re real.
Repeat after me:
All is well.
Seriously? Is that all?
Can you trust that you will have air to breathe?
Can you trust that you will have water to drink?
Can you trust that you will have food to eat?
Can you trust that you will have a roof over your head?
Then you are doing just fine.
Repeat after me:
All is well.
Yes. I can do that.
What would it feel like
to surrender myself completely to God?
And how would I go about
surrendering myself so completely?
My faith has alway hit a plateau,
a place where it feels blocked,
Can I reach a little deeper
and trust in the great unfolding?
I can hear the critics sneer.
They talk about delusion,
a lack of accountability,
a lack of responsibility.
But my faith is not complacency,
and I am not a bystander of my life.
When I press on and press through
my own fears,
faith is a great landscape
that I cannot comprehend
but which dazzles and compels me
to keep moving forward.
Maybe I can cultivate faith
in the part of me
that knows faith will help
bring me through this dark night.
Maybe it’s a doorway to God.
Maybe the surrender has already happened
and like a baby,
I’m just now opening my eyes,
seeing the world
for the very first time.
Little by little
the awakening comes.
Can I be patient?
Can I love the one
who needs time to learn?
with radical honesty.
Can I look at the parts
I’ve been rejecting,
the parts I’ve been ashamed of,
and hold them tenderly,
just allowing them to be?
When I stop fighting with reality
a space opens up within me,
and I can see rightly.
May I trust in this process.
May I surrender to the One
who knows me better than
I know myself.
May I allow this One
to open my eyes, mind,
body, and heart
to this moment as it is.
May I know true grace.
In the early morning
just before dawn
I had a lucid dream.
My body still asleep,
my mind became alert
that the reality I was experiencing
was, in fact, a dream.
I was facing a dark parking lot
standing on a narrow path
with the woods behind me,
and it struck me how creepy it was
to be there, just standing there
in the dark night alone.
And then I dropped something
(was it my keys??)
and I began searching in the plants
beside the path for whatever it was
I thought I had lost.
Suddenly, I realized,
I’m dreaming! There is no reason
for me to be here in a dark parking lot
at night by myself.
And then came the feeling of excitement
and the exhilaration that rises up
whenever I realize I’m awake
within my dream,
because now I’m capable of anything,
I can go anywhere,
I can have anything,
I can see everything,
the only limit is my imagination.
At such times
I usually choose to fly
just to verify
that I am in fact dreaming.
So I felt my body rising up
toward the sky.
And I had this felt sense
that I had tried so many times
to be in control of this sort of experience,
wanting to master the art of flying,
to be strong and capable,
taking myself wherever I wanted,
Now I wanted to surrender.
I wanted to surrender to God.
And so I let myself be buoyed up,
up, up, up,
until I was high in the sky
close to the stars,
and it was this feeling of being held
of floating in this vast ocean of stars
and it felt so good and so right
to just let myself be held.
I awoke then,
but the feeling has stayed with me,
and this image of being held
by a gentle, unseen, immense force—
floating in an ocean of stars.