As the Earth Teaches: soft-hippie insights

I didn’t have to ask.  They were and had already been speaking, waiting for a heart to be attuned to timeless truths. The grassses and purples and expanse and silence and sun clearly spoke of a way of being, intoxicating and euphoric and simple and reminiscent. I was wooed by nature’s resident mystics.

The trees taught me to reach out.

Extend yourself and stretch yourself.  Be something for someone.  Whether listening ears to a songbird’s morning litany or a refuge from the sun’s bullying.

Mantras of loyalty to stranger and old friend bind their being.

The little girl, makes her plight, to shade and protect through moments of passing.  The avid book reading depends on your faithfulness to accompany pages of adventure and tear-induced writings.  And we all know you to be the arm we can trust as we swing back and forth to gravity’s invisible dominion.  “Lean out,” the trees say.  “Show up for everyone.”

The flowers didn’t console me beforehand, but thankfully wrote me into the ownership and stewarding of admiration.  I’m now entitled to beauty and all it’s beholdings.  They give me a new definition of self-disclosure, where everyone has already been invited into complete exposure to delight.  They offer themselves so liberally and willingly:  “Please take a pedal, take and pick.  We’re yours to smell and toss, revere and let be, or bind and gift for the heart of your love.”  They benevolently hold and hug the barren, uncovered ground “to reteach a thing its loveliness” (Kinnell).  “Be selfless,” they say.  “Remind others of their beauty.”

Clouds make a mockery of the arts, and their well-manicured, lethargic progression through time, meddling all genres in a day.  I feel they need all that billow and fluff and cushion to soften their oneriness.  Sometimes opting for minimalism in acute, archetypal drifts or void-embellished space in expectation.  You’ve had thousands of suns and moons to introduce and erase your work.  With a ob description “to captivate,” I’m sure therein lies divine protection from artist’s block.  Empty skies are ust time spent churning color combinations behind the curtains of mountains.  Reprised colors and hues, seemingly archived away from the past few generations of onlookers, stir anticipation and attentiveness. Fleeting masterpieces in extravagance.  Castles built for moments. The earth plays the part of easel, commissioned by the sky. Horizon, graciously agrees to mantle their works on his shoulders.  I’m sure the imposed man-made streaks leave them haughty at our feeble attempt to participate, slightly annoyed at our intrusion.  “Be creative,” taunt the clouds.”The world needs your stroke and song.”

Maybe I can be contemplative meets youthful lover.  Here’s to a “poetic instants.”



Being Attentive

a taste to savor

Only now, as the rain is carefully escorted down upon the pedals of flowers and verdant varietals of fauna leaves, can I live in this moment. The rainfall’s medley, playfully dense mist, the bite in the air giving rise chill bumps, and every droplet begging for attention before the splash; a taste to savor this once.  Worship can be found in the act of being attentive.  God is present, being vulnerable with us by making himself so available and accessible.  He indwells and enlivens all living things, divinity imprinted within humanity and creation.  


I’ve been grasping for these moments.  I wanted to hold them within my intellect, patternize encounters and extract truths to help me complete an image of God.  Curating an image of God carefully structured for ustification of my ideals and beliefs.  In search of knowing him, I replaced  what author, Richard Rohr, calls the “creative tension” of the ambiguity and mystery of His Mysticism with seeing a complete image and clarified explanations.  He wants to be explored and discovered, not assessed and delineated as a puzzle to piece together through life experience.  In frustration, I couldn’t place conversations, a mountainscape, or overwhelming emotions into a scope to clarify into a beautifully constructed definition of the Divine.  I’m understanding that life experience isn’t a commodity to extract from, but to revel in His presence.  It reminds me of this Indian proverb I heard recently, “You can’t push the river into the ocean.”  Truth will come when it comes.  I’m not missing out or becoming less.  God isn’t withholding enlightenment or discovery because of my inadequacy to “ cultivate sensitivity to those voices that evangelize you to a better version of yourself” (Rob Bell) or find a hidden attribute of God through immersion within new culture or setting.  A receptive stance, not my ability to cognitively define a Lover, whom transcends human language, is what will brings me into perfect union.  


“The contemplative’s inner stance is not one of being swept downriver along with everything else.  The contemplative’s repose is not a passive state but an engaged, silent receptivity, ‘an every moving repose’, as St. Maximus the Confessor calls it.  Like a riverbed, which is constantly receiving and letting go in the very same moment.  Vigilant receptivity and nonclinging release are one and the same for this riverbed awareness as it constantly receives all coming from upstream while at the very same moment releasing all downstream.”  -Martin Laird


Taken from a dialogue of Pete Rollins, “I want a God who erupts my ideas of right and wrong, cultural views, and perception of life”.  It’s not a transformation I can rush though. I need to shake the tendency to rationalize God within my values or as an idealized image of myself.  I want to live moment to moment without expectation, hope, or outcomes.  I want to taste God for who he is in the present, who I know him to be now.  I believe intensity of pursuit lies within my power and responsibility, revelation and experience by His grace, and life-giving when birthed in awe and wonder.  


“The vitality that can stand the abyss of meaningless is aware of a hidden meaning within the destruction of meaning.” – Paul Tilich


May I savor the sweetness of divinity within this rainfall.  Droplet by droplet.