Journey

Here.
Take my hand,
My friend.

Let's walk for awhile.
We'll choose where later.

No need to step
The exact same.
Your walk is as unique
As you.
No need to change it.

Just walk with me
For however long,
Views flooding sparkling eyes;
Sharing a laugh at

The timeless rooster,
The chipmunk skitter,
The salamander stare,
and little dog-sleuth Maxwell.

Let's seek the Guide.
Let's puddle-jump.
Let's run or sit or dance.

Because,
After all,
Journeys are for joy,

And joys are better shared.

Continuous

I had a chance to take some time just to sit this evening. I sat on a bench under a large maple tree, eating a ham sandwich, and reading a good book. And as I sat, I began to notice a few things.

Birds began to gather in the trees, paying me no mind.

People walked by, moving along their self-designated paths to accomplish whatever it was that they felt it was absolutely necessary to accomplish.

An engine revved in the distance, fighting against entropy to try and live again.

A man delivered pizza to place of residence.

More birds gathered. They flocked. They flew. They still paid me no mind.

As all of these things took place, I realized that they had a very important thing in common:

I had absolutely nothing to do with them. No influence. No significance. I had stopped for a moment, and the world just continued to happen around me. And it got along with things just fine.

It was humbling to consider, but after getting past the frequently-ignored epiphany that the world doesn't revolve around me, I realized how freeing it is that, though I do have a part to play, the course of nature and life and the unfolding future does not rest on my shoulders. There is an order to things. A significant, perfect, well-managed order. And yes, entropy naturally causes decline. And yes, it's our job to add to life against decay. And yes, this world can be scary at times, or intense, or just plain heavy. But ultimately, the order is maintained. However, it's not maintained by us. Regardless of our miniscule acts of choice and cause and effect, life moves forward, undaunted. It does not need us in order to continue to be Life. This is because Life is not just a collection of events instigated by humans. It is a living thing. An entity. A person, totally separate from we, the people, of planet Earth. Some like to call it God. I think It's okay with that title, but perhaps that as well as any other one title just doesn't quite cover the bigness and trueness of what It is. But It continues, with or without us.

There is a certain comfort in knowing that I'm not in control, nor do I have to be. But it's a comfort that comes only from knowing and believing and sensing that the Master of Order isn't just doing things (like we do) to get them done and move on to the next thing because that's how it goes and there isn't any stopping because life is a race and if you don't keep running, you lose.

No.

The Master maintains the Order, I think, because It is motivated by something greater than obligation or fear or frantic trudgery. It is motivated by Purpose. It is motivated because It is Life, and it can't be anything other than what It is: Unceasing, Relentless Vivacity; The Essence of Genesis.

And this is where it gets truly Good:

The Core of Life, the Source of Glory, the Definition of the Master...

It is Love.

So feel free to take it easy. Love finds a way. And It doesn't depend on you.

Mind-Makers

If your mind is a ship,

Sail in waters vibrant

And not in pungent oil in which to sink.

If your mind is a box,

Let it be a golden treasure chest

And not a bin for garbage.

If your mind is a piece of fractured light,

Let its true colors show;

Don't paint them gray.

If your mind is a pillow,

Fill it with feathers.

Not rocks.

If your mind is a tree,

Plant it in a green field,

Not a desert.

If your mind is a lightbulb,

Don't smash it.

Give it electricity.

If your mind is a bird's wing,

Don't let the bird fall from the sky

Quite unsatisfied.

If your mind is a door,

Give it a discerning door-man.

Leaving it wide open for too long lets bugs in.

If your mind is a window,

Look through it.

Don't close the curtains.

If your mind is an instrument,

Keep it tuned.

Sour notes make ears cringe.

If your mind is a parachute,

Sew it well.

You'll be grateful when you jump from the jet.

If your mind is a crown,

Make it royal:

Thorns are for torture.

If your mind is a bridge,

Give it good supports.

Troubled waters flow beneath.

If your mind is a mouth,

Feed it things to chew and swallow.

Don't make it vomit.

If your mind is a lung,

Breathe clean air.

Dust and dirt make poor oxygen.

If your mind is a fruit,

Let it ripen.

Fruit picked too soon tastes wrong.

If your mind is a fish,

Give it fins that work.

Slow fish get eaten.

If your mind is a chess set,

Make sure you've got all the pieces.

You can't play, otherwise.

If your mind is a flower,

Let it bloom.

Beauty needs great care.

If your mind is a clock,

Keep it ticking.

Silent hands tell no time.

And if your mind is riches untold,

Spend them wisely.

Buried, they're only worth as much as the dirt around them.

I wrote this poem just a tiny bit over a year ago. Along with it was this note:

"Take care of your mind. Everyone around you will thank you. As you love yourself, then you can love your neighbor."

So take care of yourself.

You're the only you there is,

and you won't be coming this way again.

Daring to Dream

I sit here, etching these words in time. And I wonder: What if I let myself dream? What if I pursued a bit of those dreams each day? What if I sought the dreams of my Maker? Or better, what if I sought my Maker above all else? What then?

I don't want an answer.

Not a written one, anyway.

This answer,

I want to experience.

Why stop at "what if"?

Because for every "what if",

there's a "That's what."

We just rarely go to the opposite side of the question mark.

Days of Music

A rabbit stopped me on the way home last night. He hopped out of a bush, and though any other night he would have run at the sight of me, this night, he just stared. Then he spoke. "Do not just listen," he said, "let the music move you."
"Thank you for that," I replied, "I haven't danced much lately."
He just stared some more, wiggling his bunny-whiskers. "I must be off," he said finally, "I'm lettuce hunting. I don't want to lose the trail." And with that, he bounced off without looking back.
Today, I was driving down a country road as Clocks played on my car stereo. As the world whizzed past me, I began to notice that it was picking up the music. The fence posts began to light up as I passed them, in time with the notes. They were joined by the telephone poles which, every 10 yards, would flash with color as the symbols crashed from my speakers. The trees took over for the fence posts as the grass jumped in too. And the sun held it all together, melding the world into harmonies. Soon, I was encompassed by a passing landscape alive with glowing bursts of music. And I was glad I had listened to the rabbit, for I was dancing.

It would, after all, be very sad to be in the midst of a musical world

and not feel the least bit moved to action.

The Dance

is for those that will.

Illuminators Burn for an August Night Victory