I write, speak, invest, network, and question to stimulate fruitful conversation. Let's talk about human flourishing! It begins with freedom. Holy leisure is the key to human being, freedom and generativity. Please join me in the adventure of realizing Christ!
Gestation
I picture life in the womb as an image of life in time, waiting to be born into Eternity.
Is it possible to be this secure, this patient, this still right in the midst of time’s forward march? I have experienced it over and over, though I must return to that still center consciously, and with some effort.
I’ve been helped to do so by imagining myself right in the very womb where Christ, Incarnate, waits to be born. In His quiet Presence, I’m encouraged just to be, to be silent, to be still, to await the fullness of time without striving forward, to trust, to hope, to remain – with Him – at peace. The Divine Mercy is the little ‘sea’ that holds me here safely.
Time is a gentle, rocking motion. Not only I – here, in time – am being knit together, but also I – the whole ‘mansion’ of my being, held in God’s own being – am becoming more and more fully realized every day. The hope that surrounds my movement through time seems to hold open space for me to be, to grow, to open fully. Hope and wonder both refer to the in-between state of not-yet-but-expected, and to an interior spaciousness that is filled with the substance of what can only barely be glimpsed.
To be ‘filled with grace’ must be to be as fully spacious as possible – not empty, but held open to Reality by interior correspondence to Reality. Such was the sacred womb of the Virgin Mary, and so is the vessel of Faith that carries me toward Heaven.
Gestation
Heart – beating in the distance,
Voices just beyond the door,
Sleeping, waking in the darkness,
Held – my soul can want no more.
Cradled in a warm caesura,
Pillowed on a sea divine –
Mercy, rocking to the tempo,
I am His and He is mine.
Wanting, waiting, not impatient,
Yearning for the one who calls
Forward, to a light that beckons
Outward from these velvet walls.
Time moves on outside the stillness,
Home is woven on its loom,
Hope that corresponds to wonder,
Wonder, to the sacred womb.
Holy pregnant hush expectant,
Chronos wounds eternity,
Word now in flesh appearing,
Couched in fresh tranquility.
All the poems are now in one volume, and I’d love for you to have a copy! Click on the cover to buy it, and click here for the recordings of all the poems.
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