She sits cross-legged on the carpet
apart from the others as she doodles
on her post it notes
She pastes one here, one there, and
another on the coffee table
and then waits for us all to gather round
for the show and tell
We told her it wasn’t that kind of party
that we just wanted to eat and drink
and flirt and talk
yet she held her ground and kept scribbling
and said don’t you all want
to see my art?
Well this is awkward a few of us thought
signifying such with eyebrows raised
yet perhaps pity calls for us to scoot over
and let her explain her masterpiece
and so in condescension we drift her way
and as her eyes brighten and she whispers
the story she has devised
we all find ourselves hushing
because we find ourselves wanting
to know how the story ends
and guess what?
It turns out it was that kind of party
for the sharing of art
and bearing of souls
it turns out that sometimes
the two can be one and the same
what do you know?
And so now I find myself scribbling poetry
and seeking to find a friendly soul to read
who will do me the honor?
Bedrock
Devotion to truth and beauty is admirable. But there is a potential for this devotion to sour as one notes a misperception that leads to a devotion improperly placed. In other words, something is called true that is not true. Or something is called beautiful that is not beautiful? Nonsense you may cry. Who are you to define truth or beauty? These are nebulous concepts that cannot truly be nailed down. I agree that I am not infallible and it is very possible – even probable – that my comments stand on sand at times. Yet I am not putting myself forward as the arbiter of beauty or my own poetry held high as the level of truth. No, all I am stating is the statement that there is a standard of truth and beauty and so perhaps this does point to one who may judge such. Is this too far? We may quibble on interpretations and paradigms of course. But is it wrong to posit that there may just possibly be realities that are solid in and of themselves and are far beyond our ability to alter? This is all I say, at this time. Later on, perhaps over a coffee or something more bitterly delicious, I will discuss with you my thoughts on the realities that to me are more truly beautiful than any others I can dare to imagine. And yes of course, these realities are based in the God whom I call my own, the one who is more beautifully true than my mind can truly grasp. It is difficult for the finite to grasp the eternal, yet I try. And so in what I call feeble faithfulness upheld by the infinite united to my soul I lay my head down in sweet peace that I am known by the one of whom nothing greater can be known to be.
Grasping
Look my friend see the lighthouse standing friendly on that distant shore
these seas are choppy the wind is perilous the dark approaches
yet somehow I can’t feel anxious anymore
let me put my arm around you and hold you close to me
and perhaps as we draw near to the jetty you’ll understand
just what it is that resonates within my soul
as i consider the beauty of this grey sky over this grey sea
but maybe you won’t and that’s ok
for it took me a while to fully grasp the complex interplay
between the immanent and the real
yet now perhaps I can describe it if you’ll lend me an hour or two
or perhaps not for these concrete words that pour from this mouth
cannot do justice to the ineffable of the divine
yet for some reason I can’t help it
with all my eloquence or lack thereof i’ll try
come with me my friend let’s disembark and feel the dry land once again
and come to this table and on topics of philosophy and metaphysics
and on good red meat and potatoes roasted let us sit and dine
does that sound alright?
take off that rain-sodden sweatshirt and take this towel and dry your hair
and follow me and come inside
Indwelt
she walks down the sidewalk as she processes
the last hour on the phone
and replays every moment
every syllable
every change of tone
her face grows ever more still
as the tears track down
and she feels her heart begin to calcify
and begin the metamorphosis to stone
but is this the end or just an intermission?
she has not read the playbill
so she cannot say
but it feels like a death she mutters in her head
and so perhaps not another resurrection moment
at least not today
perhaps though if she wanders down to that coffeeshop
just maybe there will be an open table just for her
and she’ll fill up the pages of her notebook
with all the lines that burning fill her mind
and then with the ashes of their bonfire
her grief will float with the breeze to heaven’s door
she hopes so oh she hopes so
for she can’t take this anymore
Still Waters
Oh how wonderful it is to have a spare few moments to sit and breathe and think on the abundant mercies of my God! I sometimes write in poetry and sometimes simply prose but for now I don’t think I have the energy about me to write much of anything creative this night, alas but is that really such a bad thing? Sometimes it is most beneficial to my soul to simply read on lovely things that are true and meditate on what God has done for me. So I will now shut this laptop and cease staring into a screen that I cannot quite commune with even while pouring out as many words as I write now. This outpouring of my thoughts from my head to this empty white space may seem grandiose at times but can it truly capture the flickering of the candle that is my soul? I know not but oh still I try. For now though, I am off for true. Farewell my friends and be at peace this night, I pray. Peace and love.
Breathing Deep of the last Aching Notes of Summer’s Song
A quiet Friday night is upon us. A lovely little end of the week walk was enjoyed and even though it was rather hot – as is typical for September! – I did enjoy just walking along the trail and enjoying all the blessings my Father has bestowed upon me. And now! A couple of quick book reviews. Yes. They shall be quick. I promise.
55. Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Could not finish this one. There are some lovely parts to be sure and some rather fine writing and I’m sure there is value to be found in this book. But in the end, I could not stomach another second of Florentino Ariza.
56. Anne of the Island by L.M. Montgomery. A jewel of a book and one of my favourites of the Anne series. I always approach this one by with joy in the anticipation and I have never been disappointed as I turn that final page. This book is one that is just a perfect delight of a read. There is a tinge of melancholy in this book and perhaps that is what gives the whole book such a well-rounded air of the true, I’m unsure. But apart from that, I simply adore the descriptions in this book and the way Montgomery shows so poignantly some of the feelings that come with growing up. Also? Montgomery always needs a character that pulls her away from that dangerous saccharinely sweet ditch and here she comes up with a brilliant one in Philippa Gordon. Phil is one of my all time favourite Montgomery creations and I smile every time I read one of her lines. We all need a Phil in our lives.
Incarnation
purple sky darkens as chaos threatens to fall upon the earth
so I cry save us save us
oh Jesus save us and grant us
thy second birth
so witness the account that history has given
and consider the potentiality
of an intrusion from the heavens
what some today name a miracle
and if it is possible that we know not all things
can you believe that perhaps just maybe
there was a descent from heaven
and that with the hovering of the divine
Jesus came
and in humility proclaimed
that he was the last and first
and testified of glories beyond our ken
so that even as he prayed to heaven’s father
we knew something was different about this man
and perhaps this was an instance
of heaven reaching down to remake and heal
for God knows we need it
and even now we plead it
that God give us a second chance
and he says I have
believe in the Son of Man
and eternal life I’ll grant
forever and forever
dare you chance?
this is life I say to myself
to know the God who knows me more
than I know myself now or ever will
and so of course I cast myself upon this shore
and dance upon this lawn and sing once more
for hark my friends there is none other
and naught better
than the true rest and bliss
that comes from resting your eyes upon
the very face of God
and knowing you are found within
the meeting of humanity with the divine
for in Christ our life may now be hid
oh brother oh sister
taste and see
rest in Him.
Intermission
she bends over the little secretary desk
and scribbles with all her might
outside the thunder bugles triumphantly
but Emma doesn’t fear the night
for all the raging of the cosmos
only fuels the maelstrom in her heart
and she bleeds messy prose onto the paper
witness this faltering house of cards
but it’s ok she says to herself
for surely soon this candle will go out
and on my pillow i’ll lie down and
lie awake and for hours muse on art
and the way the wooden crosspiece
struck my eye as the autumn light
fell just so upon that old red barn
i remember that afternoon i wrote
a poem upon my scratchpad as i
leaned against that tree and breathed
deep of pine and felt the comfort
of the old withered bark against my back
cozy in my sweatshirt and my eyes alive
with all that was on the page unturned
now alas i’ve seen too much and i fear
that perhaps all my best lines are burnt
but at least i can’t say i haven’t written
even if the pages are all fluttering
in the wind
and who knows what backstreet alley
they’ll end up in
alas my soul comfort yourself with what you know
and rest in those old promises
i have nothing else
Before Midnight
Quick book thoughts before going out and about this Friday night!
54. Two-Part Invention – The Story of a Marriage by Madeleine L’Engle. I greatly enjoyed this one. It’s a memoir of sorts and it’s by one of my favourite authors and so the odds were in its favour, I’ll admit. And sure enough, a winner! This nonfiction by L’Engle focuses on her marriage to Hugh Franklin, who I’ll confess I knew very little about going into this one! If you know me at all, you know that I’m already a huge fan of L’Engle’s writing and so of course reading this one felt just like snuggling into a warm blanket and drinking a hot cup of cocoa. That’s not to say this story is all sunshine and roses. There are some very dark and depressing parts of this book, to be sure. But L’Engle is frank and honest as she describes her feelings even in these dark moments. You get a very good idea of what she believes and the nature of her faith in Christ in this book, which I found greatly fascinating and encouraging. You also get many of her musings on marriage and life and death. Of course all of this is intertwined with the narrative that L’Engle unfurls so brilliantly. Her prose is as simple and beautiful as always and the core themes of this book sing true. Oh and also? As someone who loves reading about artsy and literary subjects, I delighted in reading about L’Engle’s growing up and living in a very culturally rich and diverse environment. I most certainly felt some twinges of jealousy at times. All that being said? This was a beautiful read and heartily recommended for anyone who wants to know a bit more about one of the best American authors of the 20th century. I look forward to re-reading at a later date, especially when I’m a bit further along in my own marriage!
Modus operandi
Often I forget how lovely my early morning reading and meditation times can be. Too often do I struggle to wake up early enough – truly, it is not always easy waking up hours before sunrise. And oh too often do I allow myself once awake to get distracted by silly things – oh phone, begone from me! Though I am crafted in the image of the eternal, still true is it that I am a product of this age and thus susceptible to the little thoughts and fears and cravings that are manifested in this current generation. Hence how important it is to be deliberate in setting guardrails and being proactive in setting aside some quiet time and space to sit and breathe and pray and read that I might closer draw to the God who made all things. And as I say all this in that elevated morning manner that comes from being fresh of mind and slightly caffeinated it might be easy for one to view me as the pretentious, haughtily pious type. Far be it from me to claim any particular uniqueness of thought or practice. Rather, I opened this tab and started typing this morning with the air of gratitude and wonder. Far, far too often do I spend my early morning times distracting myself with lesser things or allowing my thoughts to wander to places less profitable. So when there is a notable exception – such as today – I wish to chronicle. I actually woke up moderately on time. My coffee brewed, I sat down in my little corner chair and spread my books out and made sure my phones were across the room. And then I opened the book (the best book first, as always) and began to read and pray. And oh how my soul was blessed as I read many words and meditated upon many truths and cried out mini-prayers to my God as I was struck anew by the fact that I am an adopted son and am blessed with life eternal. Many minutes did I spend this morning reading and being refreshed by the truths of God. My heart feels enlivened now – reflecting a reality that I alas do not always feel. I feel freshened and ready to face a hectic and most likely stressful work day. I wish I always felt this way at the beginning of a day, but we all know far too well that our emotional state at the beginning of a day is not always a bellwether for that which is to come. So instead, I sit quietly right now and praise my God for blessing me with such sweet intimacies with him and I call on him to bless my day as I walk forward in hope and faith. And I ask that I might be faithful this day in all things.
Something Weird 