Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Camp and Starlight, praise

Give victory to the king, O Lord,
Give answer on the day we call.

                             - Psalm 20

Sing praise and act to praise. Praise with tongue. Praise with hands. Praise with tongue and eyes and hands and feet. Praise He and His works. Praise She. Praise She and Her works. Praise all and praise with eyes and hands and feet. Fall to praise and rise. Act to praise and fail to praise, and rise. Call to praise and seek to praise.

Sing for singing and praise for praising. Do not be obtuse. Ask yourself to praise. Speak and remember to speak. Visit foreign and local sites and praise. Build fires. Wash dishes. Research varieties of insect and praise.
Act not to be remembered and praise. See your way clear and praise. Email colleagues and family and praise, computer-praise and mountaintop, crop field burnt and praise.

Some physical activity, a lunch date, buying school supplies, praise. I am no more alone than ever, I am no more aware than I ever was. The grain of the wood if anything somewhat duller under my fingertip. Sing praise.

I cannot be a dream for I am one in your eyes. He, She, they who are not one or the other, They, sing praise. Even the most casual companion, praise. For curling dogs and misfit companions, the soul behind the doubt or hate, praise for light on all, for light and all in light, for all in light and the seasons that follow seasons blanketing praise, praise.

Sunday, August 19, 2012

from and toward

How good to sing praise to our God;
how pleasant to give fitting praise.

Psalm 147

I choose to begin this post and may ohers with a bit from the Psalms.

God is love, and/while poems come from here and there, today a poem or a blog entry comes first as an indistinct but definite canvas, a snapshot of a familar set of steps as if you would say, I lived there. I was about 5 years old.

In firm ways but varying. My ambition is a kind of ribbon that, really, I should protect lest it get caught in the spokes. But what is that. My ambition is to do and present, then I am done with it. I am not as confident as this approach implies, or you might imagine for me. I doubt myself – or, I doubt – no, I don’t doubt. I do not place faith or hope in this sort of thing except that you are here, and generous with your time. But I am a witness to mental and emotional shadows and lapses, a kind of exhaustion. But I am clear of regrets, so in a week or so I am clear of repercussions. I stick with the plan. My heart is free, my mind is free. I write.

Do poems come from God? Insofar as all is God’s, sure. But no, not in my experience, or that I would allow sufficient to say, Ah, God wrote that, even while I am constantly in his Grace. But as this and that comes from here and there in propitious terms, fine. The work is a choice in love and need. I can say that. I can start from that point, and must, to confess a personal need. A propensity. A charism? I don’t think so. Though for another I would say, write as God loves you and loves that you write, of course. For myself, I cannot turn that corner, even as I am grateful for writing with a feeling that is closely related to the finer gratitudes, for prayer, my faith, for the privilege of prayer for others, for opportunities to serve the needy, the old, the sick at heart.

I think of my son, who exhibits talents or tendencies here and there. So I think about messaging for a life for him that will include the time to pursue where his heart and talent lead him. I think of that.

But for me, now and here (not here and there) my pleasure and the truth of that pleasure is to do what I am doing right now. Allowing the faint but definite picture to come into focus and being. Then I am done. I ask myself if that is arrogance. It may be: there is bound to be some central if latent failing, isn’t there? If not, fine – I will ascribe the grace to God what is God’s. I am a good student in this and other matters.

May God grant me the faith to learn from my own failings in his Holy name.

Saturday, August 4, 2012

Now to Say Hello



Development & report. Where to stop or start. God is life, life is God. One and one and one.

I spend days in work and family, in poetry and God. I exercise. I eat and laugh and do laundry. In and out of form, out of mind and in the spirit. Ah. A thought can be a sheet of paper inviting other thoughts.



I am a fresh Catholic, hot off the press. A boy who asked a lot of questions and thought and thought and arrived in part, or let's say he was a reasonable conduit, or a soft-handed provider, or an obliging face in the crowd. Then was I tired, oh boy - I was losing strength, so I made a choice.