One of a roomful of eager disciples I strain for every
word and
nuance.
Thirty two of us sitting in this one studio have
travelled
from parts far across the world and not so far;
Some have waited for years for
THIS.
THIS is the beginning of a deep and complex journey into
‘self’.
All of us aware of the adventures ahead of us and
some a little
afraid.
In smaller groups we create an image of self.
How intimate this is
and how exposing
too.
Revealing me to the
world.
Jim kissed my hand today when he came through the door.
Something more,
in fact he kissed my hand,
then pressed his forehead to it.
A gesture
of supplication or love?
or surrender
to something above
and beyond his control.
The tumour in Jim’s head takes up too much space now.
I wonder how
long we have him with us to make us laugh
with his funny faces
and sometimes
inappropriate behaviour.
Or fits.
I cannot forget his age
is the same as that of my son Tom.
Physallis franchetii hang,
bright, orange paper lanterns.
Chrysanthamum globes glowing.
Both sight the end of the year.
Light beams.
Trust is the reliance on the integrity and strength of the unseen.
If I cannot see it how do I know I can trust it?
Sometimes it feels like walking out over a frozen lake.
One step at a time – one foot in front of the other….
Gingerly shifting my weight, carefully feeling my way
Did the ice creak? Did I feel it shift beneath my weight?
Look. Listen. Smell. Feel. Engage all the senses you have.
Use your brain and weigh the evidence present and past.
What about instinct? I hear you say…what about – your “gut”?
Yes I listen to the small voices whispering “caution” in my ear.
Then I turn to God and ask. This thing is bigger than me.
Shall I walk on? Spiritual guidance may tell me if the ice is thin
Trust is the reliance on the integrity and strength of the unseen.
Faith is:
“being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see”
We need each of those precious moments and events.
Snapshots of great beauty, and encapsulated joy
in bubbles.
We must celebrate the unexpected gifts of word.
Treasures of glance and touch, and smile
we share.
Hold on when in despair at the cruelty of life
and of mans inhumanity to himself and
the world
These threads of gold shine bright in the tapestry
of dark woven pain and are the fabric which
clothes us
and gives us face.