remembering moments

burning moment

it was on the back side of the desert

Moses saw the burning bush

fine moment

while away last week on a course

I learned a fascinating interpretation

of a word I tend (ed) to use a fair bit

FINE

fearful

insecure

neurotic

emotional

I can think of one or two friends

who will experience a huge belly button on the forehead type laugh

while reading this

hopefully I will think twice or thrice

before using this word again ~)

authority moment

you have authority

in the storm

you can sleep through

whitman moment

This is the fourth day of a dark northeast storm, wind and rain.
Day before yesterday was my birthday.
I have now entered on my 6oth year.
Every day of the storm,
protected by overshoes and a waterproof blanket,
I regularly come down to the pond,
and ensconce myself under the lee of the great oak;
I am here now writing these lines.
The dark smoke-colored clouds roll in furious silence athwart the sky;
the soft green leaves dangle all round me;
the wind steadily keeps up its hoarse, soothing music over my head —
Nature's mighty whisper.
Seated here in solitude I have been musing over my life —
connecting events,
dates,
as links of a chain,
neither sadly nor cheerily,
but somehow,
today here under the oak,
in the rain,
in an unusually matter-of-fact spirit.
But my great oak—
sturdy, vital, green —
five feet thick at the butt;
I sit a great deal near or under him.
Then the tulip tree near by—
the Apollo of the woods —
tall and graceful,
yet robust and sinewy,
inimitable in hang of foliage and throwing-out of limb;
as if the beauteous,
vital,
leafy creature could walk,
if it only would.
(I had a sort of dream-trance the other day,
in which I saw my favorite trees step out and promenade up,
down and around,
very curiously —
with a whisper from one,
leaning down as he passed me,
"We do all this on the present occasion,
exceptionally,
just for you.")

Walt Whitman

wounded moment

don't shoot the wounded

they need us more than ever

sometimes we just condemn them

and don't take time to hear their story

don't shoot the wounded

some day you might be one

Chuck Girard

earthquake moment

some days

most days

it seems the world is cracking apart

with the trembling church

sitting astride an earthquake zone

the singer moment

in "The Singer"

Earthmaker and His Troubadour sit down

on the outer rim of space

and look at our planet

Earthmaker holds it to His ear ...

'They're crying, Troubadour'

He said

'they cry so hopelessly.'

He gave the tiny planet to His Son

who also held it by His ear.

'Year after weary year they all keep crying.

They seem born to weep then die.'

Then

with His nail

He scraped the atmosphere

and both of them beheld the plant bleed.

Earthmaker set earth spinning on its way

and said,

'Give Me your vast infinity, My Son;

I'll wrap it in a bit of clay.'

and so the Son became one-of-us.

Calvin Miller wrote The Singer

a healthy child

is somehow

very much

like God

a hurting child, his son

Emerson moment

To the attentive eye

each moment of the year has its own beauty

and in the same field

it beholds

every hour

a picture which was never seen before

and which shall never be seen again

Ralph Waldo Emerson

horses moment

and so
on this most amazing day
it was while cocooned by the presence
I started to pray for my friends
and
suddenly
faint at first
felt more than heard
horses
thundering hooves shaking the ground
nostrils flaring
muscles glistening and magnificent in their rippling
racing from afar
coming ever nearer
until I was one with them and the shuddering land
covered in earth ground to dust by their racing feet
their rhythm perfect
each one perfectly in tune with the other
there were many
and yet they ran as one
in their embrace
we ran as one
there was never weariness
only a desire to reach the horizon
and then the next horizon
knowing all the while
it was not our horizon
but his horizon

what a run

dance moment

some exist for many years
but only come alive when released
to breathe unrestricted
in the open
with the fields stretched wide before them
the view unrestricted by walls and boundaries

able to find a mountain top in the darkest valley
and hear the gurgle of the river deep in the desert

just as a wild purebred stallion cannot function in a stall
one created to be free
never completely fully develops with one limb trapped

there is a dance to this season
an unrestricted dance of living

banners unfurled
feet unchained
heart open
full of risk
full of hope
full of peace
full of joy

entering
being
leaving
not yet arriving
but on the way

baptism moment

my fingers cannot type fast enough
so I simply release them to find their own rhythm
to dance their own dance
some words caught
some not
it doesn’t matter
for they are not my words to own
and it is not my dance to dance

the silence pregnant with gentle tapping
like tiny feet running through my heart

there is a perfume in the air
the aroma of a rare flower
that blooms where not many notice
and fewer still stop to see

a gurgle of laughter erupts
like a bubbling brook rising from within
then a sudden baptism in a gentle washing of falling water

wombed in a song
cocooned in wonder
I rest
his beating heart
my only pillow