Be still

‘Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.’ #RainerMariaRilke

Ignorance starts with unanswered questions. If the question is allowed to marinate then in good time an education is gained. When we put into practise that new found knowledge, well then, that is wisdom, applied life lessons. So be still and ponder deeply. Your hurts reveal an underlying current in you. Your anger warns you of a bias. Your offence is some kind of defence. Your irritation is the same as an oyster responding to a grain of sand. It’s all there to perfect you and to create beauty in you. If you will let the storms fulfil their duty, then like a caterpillar turned butterfly, your tragedy will be a remedy and you will fly.

Do not fear the doubts that assail you or the whispers that betray you. How can you learn to walk if at first you do not crawl, what a humbling thing. On all fours, all flaws are clearly seen. It is when one is hardest hit that they learn their strongest bits. Be bold, it does not mean brute strength, no. It means you are sold to the good cause but your trembling knees refuse to carry you through. Nothing that is good comes easy and so you must rise to the challenge. Invite the battle and wrestle till the breaking dawn of a new awakening, a resurrection. Lest a man die, he cannot fully live. Let go of your falsehood and embrace all you were meant to be. Strip the lies that enfold you and grasp the thread of truth. The act will kill you but it will thrill you and it will reveal the real you. Out of the depth of the Earth you will arise again, like precious jewels your true self is found in deep places. Take up your tools and dig deep. If you seek with all that you are, then you will find all that you are meant to be.

Though the great World Wars have been fought. They never ended. In you is a Great War. Daily you trudge through emotional trenches and in darkness you grope seeking your own soul. For what is a man without his own identity? What is a woman with a formless entity? How then can The World exist with a fumbling humanity? They sought weapons of mass destruction, it was not a lie, they did exist you see, but the human is the weapon of mass extermination. They forgot to look in the mirror. Power is like a sword, it is nothing until a human picks it up.

So before you judge. Look into yourself. Be still and be your own judge. What are you good for? What have you done to make it better for anyone? Where has your voice been heard? What have your choices fulfilled? As you scream at the television, tell us what has been your great vision? As you comment on social media, tell us what great race you have run, dear? The human race wants to know, what have you done in your little space?

Be still and hold your tongue.

‘Hypocrisy is the complement that vice pays to virtue.’ #RaviZacharias

A possessing possession!

Excerpt from book by Kurt Bruner and Jim Ware

There is a progressive quality about evil. It begins in the simplest way: with a desire. It begins with a wish to have, to hold, to possess something. And then to use that something to achieve purposes of our own.

The drink. The drug. The other man’s wife. Money. Power. Position. There is a sense in which they are nothing to me. It isn’t the thing itself. It’s what it can do for me that counts. It’s the wish for the enhancement and enlargement of self that guides my reaching, grasping hand. The hand needs a tool with which to work it’s own designs.

And so desire produces action. One thing leads to another. I reach and stretch. I grasp. I lay hold of the object of my desire. And the spinning of a horrible wheel is set in motion. The effect is almost immediate. And it manifests itself, SURPRISE, not in the enhancement, but in the diminishing of the self.

My hand touches the desired object. My fingers close around it. But even as the thrill of possession courses up my own arm and through my body, there is a sound from behind me, like the turning of a key in a lock. Already the object has grown and I have begun to decrease. I am trapped within the realisation that it’s not enough. That I am not more but less than I was and far less than I ought to be. Sudden fears rears it’s ugly head. I run for cover and grasp again for more. And the screw is given another turn.

And so in the end, the tables are turned, the thing I desired to possess possesses me.

Evil is not possessed, but possessing.

Who Will Answer?

By Ed Ames

From the canyons of the mind,
We wander on and stumble blindly
Through the often tangled maze
Of starless nights and sunless days.
While asking for some kind of clue
Or road to lead us to the truth
But who will answer?

Side by side two people stand
Together vowing, hand in hand
That love`s imbedded in their hearts,
But soon an empty feeling starts
To overwhelm their hollow lives
And when we seek the hows and whys,
Who will answer?

On a strange and distant hill,
A young man`s lying very still,
His arms will never hold his child
Because a bullet running wild
Has cut him down.

High upon a lonely ledge,
A figure teeters near the edge,
And jeering crowds collect below
To egg him on with, go, man, go
But who will ask what led him
To his private day of doom
And who will answer?

If the soul is darkened
By a fear it cannot name
If the mind is baffled when
The rules don`t fit the game
Who will answer, who will answer
Who will answer?

In the rooms of dark and shades
The scent of sandalwood pervades
The colored thoughts in muddled heads,
Reclining in rumpled beds of
Unmade dreams that can`t come true
And when we ask what we should do
Who, who will answer?

Neath the spreading mushroom tree
The world revolves in apathy
As overhead, a row of specks
Roars on, drowned out by discotheques
And if a secret button`s pressed
Because one man has been outguessed
Who will answer

Is our hope in walnut shells
Worn round the neck with temple bells
Or deep within some cloistered walls
Where hooded figures pray in halls
Or crumbled books on dusty shelves
Or in our stars, or in ourselves
Who will answer

If the soul is darkened
By a fear it cannot name
If the mind is baffled when
The rules don`t fit the game
Who will answer, who will answer
Who will answer

Hallelujah, hallelujah

Take the last of me

My heart was once upon a time a fertile garden. It bloomed and scented with life but alas your dry winds kept blowing and carried all of love’s life giving moisture. My love was, is and shall be the dew of heaven’s gift. A love freely given and I chose to freely give. You collected all I had to give but your gathering clouds gave no rains. Your storms always poured out affection on another land far away. I turned into a desert. Now my cracked earth is parched hoping for your love. There is no more left in me but if you need to, you can carry my dust too. Go on, take the very last of me. In love it is often all or nothing. So I give you all of me. Go on and take the very last of me.

I am not afraid of being emptied. For I know perfect love casts out all fear. In my stillness there is a rushing and waters in the deep nurture my ache. You, who thought, your greed would pillage me, you will now learn how inexhaustible my supplier is. My strength and my shield remains true in scorching heat and icy winds. My fortress stands tall like deeply rooted trees. My warrior does not tire like the soldiers of nations. The keeper of my life and everything good in me is faithful. The conductor of my operatic service is moving me to a cosmic crescendo.

Take what you will. But you will never have it all. I am a gender with an agenda that must be fulfilled. Though you believe you have oppressed me, It must be confessed to thee. That still I rise and you have yet to taste the best of me. So take my gifts because you dare. Drain me without remorse or a care. I still choose to share because I am aware of a truth which is very rare. I am an heir and my inheritance is in Eternity’s lair. I am, for the Great I am is my source and sustainer. There is more to me and it’s more than you will ever know. Out of me, will continue to flow, living water and a love I long for you to know.

‘This is the miracle that happens every time to those who really love: the more they give, the more they possess.’ Rainer Maria Rilke

Calling man of the Earth


Adam, the first human name, means “of the earth.”

For a the sons of Adam:

For those who are ashamed of being earth,
For those who love being earth too much,
For those who possess none of the earth,
For those who possess too much of it,

For those who need to know they are earth,
And try to flee to heaven out of shame,
Doubting the garden that they already have,
Abandoning the garden that they already are,

By Richard Rohr, Adam’s Return

🎶Let your love song sing🎶

I listened and I remembered how that song held me in a time when I needed to be held and only those words could have spoken to the injured me. Only that rhythm could have moved me to the sway of my sorrow. Only that rise and fall could have guided the roller coaster of my emotions to a safe release. Only that tempo could have equaled the pulse of my anxious crumbling hope. It was a mystical set up. In a moment of distress a song nursed my bruised quest for purpose and meaning. In a moment of poverty, a song proposed a liberating economy and raised me from dust to glory. My life has been a surfing on sound waves and on top of crescendoing crests I have found electrifying surges that awakened love in me again and again.

Many instrumental notes have married falling words from human lips. This marriage called song has conceived and brought into bloom comforting memories and healing remedies. The narrative of our individual and communal lives have often been punctuated by lyrical speech. Warriors marched into war to rhythmic shouts of acclamation and we sang an ode to the lost and fallen hero. We rocked new life to a humming, wrapped in a few words and as our child slept, the humming, the rocking, the punctuated kisses and the rhythm reached a World of dreams and inspired a neurological plasticity, which makes Song so vital to our story of life. Maybe that’s why we are often lost in awe of those who strum our pain with their fingers, croon our unspoken secrets and below our deafening screams. Maybe that’s why we often find our counsellor on MTV and our pill in an ipod or the radio. Maybe that’s why she sang, “Last night a DJ saved my life from a broken a heart.”

So then what is humanity but a chorus and what is self but a soloist. What is culture but a merging of vocals each freely expressing the self they know. What is society but a choreography of where monologue becomes dialogue. That is why in each dawn, there is a master conductor perched outside your window, reminding you to sing your song. Nature serenades to you, hoping you will hear and join the duet. All that is living longs for the outpouring of your characteristic composition. We long for your voice.

Let your love song sing. It may be a whisper but a whisper can carry the wind across Earth’s sphere. In song, even a whisper carries a scream. Serve us like the bird serves the dawn. Remind us that we are all an unfolding story full of melody. Let your love song sing, peeling off the layers of fear that leave many shrouded in darkness because perfect love casts out fear. Let your life song usher a new dawn, let it be a light through which we see all that is good in humanity. Let your loving life song sing!

If you can’t do great things, Mother Teresa used to say, do little things with great love. If you can’t do them with great love, do them with a little love. If you can’t do them with a little love, do them anyway. Love grows when people serve.’ John Ortberg

Love is a word

If you think about it, love is just a word. It matters only because of what we choose to attach to it. It is that decision to place value on it which leaves us feeling deprived, depraved, denied or destined for good things. The saddest thing is when we assume that we have found this thing called love and we place our heart at the feet of the beloved, only to have them walk away without a care. Suddenly, the young teen heart wants nothing but to stop beating and even though we know, this life is not a Romeo and Juliet scene, it’s shocking how many young lives quit on life because they thought they found and too suddenly lost a great love.

A young life told me yesterday that they were ready to die. Their beloved had wounded them deeply and alcohol had not numbed the pain nor had it detoxed the poison of misery that suffocated him. My heart broke for this young Romeo because he was ready to die for what was nothing close to love. Yes love may be just a word. But this word has evolved for thousands of years to help humanity express a powerful motion that is not just an emotion.

Love is not the absence of hate, it is the choice to veto that aching anger and take up the torch of peace for a course that will outlive us. Love is not a fleeting, hormonal driven, neurological buzz, it is much more than pulses and circuits, it is a honed Will. Love is a focused controlled power, it zeros in on its target and gives and gives and gives again. But it doesn’t give bullets but kindness. Where it ought to inflict vengeance, it vindicates and liberates. Love is not moved by anything the beloved does, love makes its own moves and dances to a song played by cosmic instruments. Love is an offering which only blooms at the altar of sacrifice. Yes, there is a loosing in loving but the inevitable harvest covers all pining loss. Love’s produce may take a while to fruit but it shall surely come and its spring is more than all of Earth’s seasons for even Earth bows to love. Earth pays homage to love for honour is love’s due and love’s portion.

So when the young Romeo was broken over rejection, I knew it was time for me to introduce him to love. So this is the song I sang the young Romeo…..🎶

🎶To be continued 🎶