Nothing transcendental about it- the mathematical equation involved in the measuring of an intellectual standard or sub-standard, is as ancient as the newness of this moment!
The satirical way of human sarcasm is as comedic as the plays which Plato once attended.
The depth and the width of relationship is unconquerable. The gaps between people are there by intelligent design- but not a Godly one.
When the complaint is that same old same old, it is only as valid as the selfishness of the complainer.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
WHEN YOU LISTEN
When you listen to me, you don't really listen... because you are so busy with your own thing... your own busy mind, thinking your own busy thoughts which do not really include me or anything about me unless it is to your benefit in some way.
I can read something out loud to you, wanting you to get into me, for a change... but it doesn't matter. I can tell by your entire demeanor that you don't care. You try to fool me with your pretension that what I have to say is important... but I know, as soon as I stop reading, that you have gone right back to where you were before I interrupted.
It is at a moment like this that I wonder what we are doing here. There is a song... maybe many more than that one.
You are as selfish as you can be. I am too, but I think about it. I consider what is wrong with my life and selfishness. I know I lack in the graces of real communicating. My desire is to take you in my arms and make you listen.
But you are busy at the computer.
I can read something out loud to you, wanting you to get into me, for a change... but it doesn't matter. I can tell by your entire demeanor that you don't care. You try to fool me with your pretension that what I have to say is important... but I know, as soon as I stop reading, that you have gone right back to where you were before I interrupted.
It is at a moment like this that I wonder what we are doing here. There is a song... maybe many more than that one.
You are as selfish as you can be. I am too, but I think about it. I consider what is wrong with my life and selfishness. I know I lack in the graces of real communicating. My desire is to take you in my arms and make you listen.
But you are busy at the computer.
Monday, May 28, 2007
NO STANDING STILL
Even in stillness, there might be no quietness to be found! Even in what we call quietness, there may not be a stillness. In what we grasp by our perception of light and sound and time, we might find that we know more than we think, merely by observing quietly what lies around us. In the dark of night... or even in the light of day!
In listening for the voice of God, I find that it is good to get away to some room or at least to some frame of mind, where I can observe stillness without interruption. Because in the stillness of at least some degree of quietness, His voice can come to me through my senses, or by intelligent mind-to-mind communicating.
God works that way, you know.
We do not have to search with a lot of work in it, to find Him seeking us too.
He is as close, as near to us as a whispered prayer, a cry, a plea for His presence to help calm my unsettled thoughts! His wish, His will, His plan and design, is for a relationship with me and with you, that reassures and comforts- and then begins to educate us.
Truth be known, it is His desire for us, to find comfort in Him, an assurance that we can be right where we need to be with Him- at any moment in time, any place where there is my loneliness or my need of Him to dip His fingers into my heart and press His love upon me. Taken away by such rapture, I know His peace like a river. I don't have to do anything right then but bask in His love.
In listening for the voice of God, I find that it is good to get away to some room or at least to some frame of mind, where I can observe stillness without interruption. Because in the stillness of at least some degree of quietness, His voice can come to me through my senses, or by intelligent mind-to-mind communicating.
God works that way, you know.
We do not have to search with a lot of work in it, to find Him seeking us too.
He is as close, as near to us as a whispered prayer, a cry, a plea for His presence to help calm my unsettled thoughts! His wish, His will, His plan and design, is for a relationship with me and with you, that reassures and comforts- and then begins to educate us.
Truth be known, it is His desire for us, to find comfort in Him, an assurance that we can be right where we need to be with Him- at any moment in time, any place where there is my loneliness or my need of Him to dip His fingers into my heart and press His love upon me. Taken away by such rapture, I know His peace like a river. I don't have to do anything right then but bask in His love.
LIGHT AND SHADOW
The imagery of one's home in the middle of the night, when one walks from room to room without lights on, becomes a background of skylines within other lines and spheres. I walk from room to room... a light on at my desk, in another room, and there is a cavern of books, toys and an odd eclectic collection of imagery which become a reflection of me, shadowed upon shadows.
After brushing my teeth and preparing for bed, I take the one-use camera to the office and, in the dark, with the cavernous shadow on my desk, I take its picture... twice.
Dripping with the blood of time, she reclines in the strange layer of lights which move around me. Shadow, lying there in half of a half-dark bank, knows only what is shared audibly with her.
Shadow, he says, your caress has haunted me since we lay together earlier in the evening, and I must be off to the auspicious sound of your breathing upon my dreamland!
Light, says shadow to me, the sweet musk of your dawns'coming with the hours of earlier than early, and your breath upon my neck devours my wakefulness and I really must join you in dreamland!
After brushing my teeth and preparing for bed, I take the one-use camera to the office and, in the dark, with the cavernous shadow on my desk, I take its picture... twice.
Dripping with the blood of time, she reclines in the strange layer of lights which move around me. Shadow, lying there in half of a half-dark bank, knows only what is shared audibly with her.
Shadow, he says, your caress has haunted me since we lay together earlier in the evening, and I must be off to the auspicious sound of your breathing upon my dreamland!
Light, says shadow to me, the sweet musk of your dawns'coming with the hours of earlier than early, and your breath upon my neck devours my wakefulness and I really must join you in dreamland!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
