SEEKING YOU

I never knew you Lord,
Or your love in such great measure.
I'd heard about you as a child
But you were someone else's treasure.
I'd always hoped for more, I hoped you would be true,
When growing up, I'm sure you knew
I was always seeking you.

Teenage cries, confusion reigned, the order of the day.
And all the while, your awesome presence, with me all the way.
Not knowing you're my Saviour; I'd never heard of grace,
I couldn't hear your voice of love, so closely at my face.
I'd always hoped for more, still hoping you'd be true,
Still growing up, I'm sure you knew,
I was always seeking you.

Unsuccessful plans, mistakes were running high,
An adult crying to the Lord; He'll know the reasons why.
I heard about you in that book, when I was but a child,
I wanted to know this Jesus, so kind and meek and mild.
I'm so grateful for your word, in You I've come alive,
My heart you've filled with gladness, and joy has filled my eyes.
I'm glad I hoped for more, and now I know You're true,
When growing up, I never knew
That You would seek me too.




my input: God see's everyone in their day to day issues. But God always loves us for who we are but not who we do. 

In the Garden

Last night at St. John's Maundy Thursday Worship and Agape meal, we embodied the story of Jesus' last night with his disciples. We shared in a meal and communion, remembering the last supper. We washed one another's feet, remembering how Jesus became the servant washing the feet of those he loved, telling them that they were to serve one another. Then we processed outside into the sanctuary where the Eucharistic elements, representing Christ were placed in an altar space created to be the garden. We read the story of how Jesus moved away from his disciples to pray, asking them to stay awake with him. And we read his desperate prayer: ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.’

In these moments, I thought about the people I have loved who have been lost in death. I thought of my grandmother and my mentor Dari Gibbs. I thought of my friend Lori, who has recently been moved to hospice care. And I felt I was there with Jesus and his friends. I understood their grief and fear and love in a way I never have before.

Lori's husband recently shared about her move into hospice care and this time of goodbyes. He wrote, "My sense is that the miracle will come – not as we hoped, but by the grace of God – when God opens His arms and welcomes Lori home. Then she will be set free from the pain and the struggles that have been so much a part of her life for the past few years. She is a woman of great faith, and there is absolutely no doubt that when she leaves us, she goes to God. I’m so grateful to God to have had the time. I think of those who suddenly lose someone they love, and I think that must be so much more difficult. Lori and I, as well as our children, have had the time to speak from our hearts about what we hold in the depths of our hearts."

So, I sat in the garden with Jesus, and I thought of Lori. I felt amazed and blessed by the miracle of having time with the ones we love before they go. How it is both beautiful and heart-breaking at once. I understood Jesus' prayer in a new way. No longer did I think he feared the physical pain that was to come. But instead his anguish arose out of leaving these friends who he adored, the people who were a part of himself. He prayed, not out of doubt, but out of grief and love, wishing only that there could be more time. More time to laugh and tell stories around a dinner table, more time to share dreams and fears, more time to teach and question, more time to hold one another.

This holy week is an invitation for us to stay awake. To be fully present with Christ and with those around us who we love. This time in the garden is a time to share our hope and our grief. A chance to realize how very blessed we are to be together in community. Today, I am remembering the deep truth that every moment we share is a miracle.

What is Home?

Like with most major holidays the days leading up to Easter will be filled with thousands of people traveling home for the happy holiday. I myself was fortunate enough to return to Marin from school in San Diego. This pilgrimage that so many of us make any number of times in a year made me consider what home truly means. For me home is not simply made up of a structure in which I sleep or familiar surroundings of material things. Home is defined by the people who create the environment around us. The beauty of this definition is that home is not simply confined to our familial ties, with this definition home is opened up to include those who we choose to include as our family, as our most special. What's more is that I believe you can find "home" wherever you go. The solace that we typically identify with home can be brought to us by those who are most important to us, and it can be brought to us in any situation or environment, regardless if we are thousands of miles away from our familial "home".
This concept of home brings me to reflecting on what I feel is a much larger theme of lent as a whole: importance.

The time of lent offers us a chance to specifically contemplate aspects of our lives. The pervasive "giving up" of lent in itself often offers people an opportunity to reflect. If we allow ourselves to take full advantage of this lenten period we can welcome Easter with a better understanding of ourselves including what is most important to us. Thanks to Katie Trinter I was recently offered the chance to consider what I would do if I knew it was my last week on Earth. With Easter so close this consideration was very appropriate and challenged me to truly contemplate. For me a final week would not be filled with ostentatious trips or adrenaline pumped "bucket list" items; if I had one week left to spend on Earth I would surround each and every day with those who mean the most to me. The further consideration of who those people would be also became very telling and eye-opening for me. This question of how I would spend my final week has stayed with me for the past few days and while certain activities may change every time I consider it, the feeling of home surrounded by the people I love remains the same. I prompt you to spend some time this holy week considering how you would spend your remaining week on Earth if you knew it would be your last.

Human Love vs. God's Love

You love someone in a way you connect when you look in each other’s eyes. There is a spark you feel when you touch the other person that gives you goose bumps. You have this relationship you want to build between each other. Where you and the other person has things in common: outdoors: hiking, biking, snowboarding, bowling, church, and kayaking. When you find things like that it makes loving someone much easier. Sometimes it might take a while to let someone in. Once you do have that trust with that person you love, you can do anything together like climb the golden gate bridge, bungee jump off a bridge, go sky diving, and jump off a helicopter in to a cave.

In a way god has showed us how in the bible. In the first commandment he says to "honor your father and mother". In the Deuteronomy 5:16 "Honor your father and your mother, as the LORD your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the LORD your God is giving you". So when the lord has commanded you to this of what he has asked you should obey. Then the lord will know that you love him in return. Prov.17: 17 say, “A friend loves at all times.” Prov.18: 24 say, “There is a friend that sticks closer than a brother.” Prov.27: 6 say, “When a friend rebukes you, that rebuke can be trusted.” Prov.27: 9 says, “The pleasantness of having a friend springs from his earnes counsel.” Prov.27: 10 say, “Do not forsake your friend.” God can see that he wants us to make friendships with others that we don't show a lot of affection. In John 4:7-12 God's life-giving love, then, is the theme of this passage. As John develops this theme, he makes three important points: God is the source of all love (4:7-8); God models what genuine love is (4:9-10); and God commands us to love each other (4:11-12). Now you can see how God loves us and how we love.

The Sacred Hard Drive

As we travel through this life we unconsciously collect memories with each day. It's as if we have a virtual net scooping up all the happenings that are too big to pass through. It's an automated motion and self manages it's own storage system. Occasionally, we may need to plug into this mental hard drive and browse for certain files to recall a name, date, etc.

However, what seems to happen often is a trigger mechanism. Smells, sights, sounds and touch prompt the wiring to find a memory by association.

The beauty is that this corner of the brain is ours. No one knows the full content but ourselves. We're the only ones that can access it. While we can't necessarily control input and output, we have the only window.

The amazement is the power that this storage unit has over us. Quite easily synapses can cause a gamut of emotions that overtake our composed nature. It's this action that seems spiritually calculated. Why would that stranger just happen to be wearing that perfume? Why would that song come on the radio right now?

Happenstance, sure, it could be.

Although, doesn't that seem like an ideal opportunity for the Holy Spirit to show presence in your life. How better for God to sneak his way into our memory box and force the file to our consciousness. While our mind is busy churning it's daily thoughts, it takes an ethereal tug to take us away into another plane of emotion.

This ironic happening and the direct connection with a memory is uniquely personal because all the parts fit. And it's ours and only ours. This conceptual occurrence serves many purposes such as a friendly reminder to call an old friend or for logistical needs such as paying the rent.

Even so, the most powerful affect seems to be when you are transported back to a time you had long since experienced. Our only way of time travel. It's as if God lets us visit this time either for comfort or to remind us of times we have overcome. A waking dream. It's as if He is reminding us that yes, that did happen, you were there, and so was I.

It's one of His ways of grabbing us for a moment. 

And reminding us that we are more than the present.

It's a sacred tap on the shoulder.

The Embrace of Silence

Leaving your everyday environment and escaping the worries and fuss that plague us daily is sometimes very difficult to do. But if we take some time, even if its only 10 minutes, we can shrug off the stress that can consume us. For me, the best way to do this is to be in nature. Whether it is sitting quietly around Phoenix Lake, watching the waves from the bluffs of Muir Beach, or my personal favorite spending some serene moments in Muir Woods. I feel that nature provides us with this incredible opportunity to connect with the spirit! In my opinion when we interact with nature we get to come into contact with some of God’s creation that isn’t influenced by the technology that at times seems to run our life. I think the best way for us to experience nature is to leave all of our iPhones, iPods, iPads, and whatever apple releases next at home or in the car and go by ourselves and just sit and be with our thoughts for as much time as we can. For me the best place for this just happens to also be one of the most gorgeous places known to this planet, and we are all fortunate enough to have it so near to home. Muir Woods is so wonderfully silent and the sound of the ancient trees swaying in the wind makes me feel a connection with not only the spirit but with all of God’s creation that has come before me. So I urge you, the next time you have even the smallest amount of free time, spend it in God’s beautiful creation and embrace the silence.

-Kendall Sones

The Sacred Path

In my last blog, I wrote about accessing the sacred from within by pushing past our fears and our own internally fabricated limitations. The “inner sacred” is what I think I can only describe as the Holy Spirit gently chiseling away on us from within. Today, I’d love to dig deeper and ask you to hop in my passenger seat for a minute or two.

During this Lenten season, having limited past experiences with actually participating in Lent, I failed miserably at my attempt to give up something in order to make more room for my spirituality. Well. I take that back. I made it almost two weeks. :)

The funny thing is, even though I ceased to cut back on one physical aspect of my life, I have lately still found myself plowing full steam ahead on this thought-provoking and life changing path to self-discovery and spiritual awareness.

As Amy described beautifully in one of her prior posts, one of the many reasons that we moved out of Los Angeles was to get away from the mindset that seemed to run rampant in the city. It’s hard to actually put it in to words, but we both knew LA was not the town where we wanted to settle down. And that’s fine. For many others, it’s where they need to be in their lives. We just knew it wasn’t for us. Our dedicated time and placement there had expired.

Maybe it comes from entering another decade, but over the last couple of years I’ve started to really think about my life path: where I came from, where I’ve been, the triumphs, defeats, personal tragedies, and epiphanies that I’ve had, and the various life lessons that I’ve learned along the way. I’ve also thought a lot about how my perceptions have changed throughout the years with these experiences, and how it may continue to evolve as I carry on throughout my life. It’s amazing how our personal experiences really can mold our opinions on subjects and people in general. I’ve started to realize that sometimes these revelations can be incredibly inspiring and eye opening, and other times they really suck. But the reality is that it’s their journey. It’s their personal experience and individual path. It’s also their decision to do what they want with the knowledge or new experience that has been presented before them.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that there is a very real hazard for inner and outer turmoil when we start to pass judgment on others and their life journeys, particularly when we have no clue where they’ve been or to where their life journey will lead. We are usually only given a very small slice of the big picture.

Not to say we shouldn’t stand up for the oppressed when injustices occur as a result of the actions of others, but I’m speaking more on the smaller level of reacting to their personal choices in everyday life.

In that realm, there is so much more room for gratification by focusing on our own paths instead of judging or even comparing ourselves to the personal life journeys of others. It’s important to remember we learn as we go. And that each new experience is a building block to achieving inner and outer peace, a chance for gaining a new understanding, an opportunity for achieving inner and outer harmony, and obtaining a closer relationship with God.

To me, the sacred is the path that I take. Road bumps and all.

The music video below is a live performance from a concert in Japan of a song written and performed by Jason Mraz. For the past 10 years, it hasn’t stopped being my favorite song no matter how hard I’ve tried to find another. But for now, I’m starting to realize that there might be a reason for that. I should probably let it be and share with you this mere tidbit from along my sacred path that still speaks to me today.

Life is not always easy. It’s messy and complicated, discouraging and overwhelming, heartbreaking and devastating. It’s also beautiful and miraculous, mysterious and intriguing, euphoric and filled with wonder.

It takes a night to make it dawn, and it takes a day to make you yawn brother, and it takes some old to make you young, it takes some cold to know the sun it takes the one to have the other.

No Perfect People Allowed

I would say No Perfect people allowed explains in a way good sees everyone in his house. For an example I heard from the priest at my church say " If you think your perfect and don't think there is something wrong with you, shame on you."

     God knows everyone isn't perfect. God forgives people when they sin, because god knows we arn't perfect.God loves all of our wort's, scars, misfortunes, faults and looks pass the ugly truths.

From Jason:

I'M A CHRISTIAN By Maya Angelou

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not shouting "I'm clean livin."

I'm whispering "I was lost,"

Now I'm found and forgiven.

When I say..."I am a Christian"

I don't speak of this with pride.

I'm confessing that I stumble

and need CHRIST to be my guide.

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not trying to be strong.

I'm professing that I'm weak

and need HIS strength to carry on.

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not bragging of success.

I'm admitting I have failed

and need God to clean my mess.

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not claiming to be perfect,

My flaws are far too visible

but, God believes I am worth it.

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I still feel the sting of pain,

I have my share of heartaches

So I call upon His name.

When I say... "I am a Christian"

I'm not holier than thou,

I'm just a simple sinner

who received God's good grace, somehow.

This poem by Maya Angelou makes you look at yourself as a Christian and ask those questions of what it all means. We are not perfect and dont preach that we are. Everyone has needs and seeks somewhere to go for that guidance and help. Sometimes its within ourselves or by going to a physical place to find Christ. For everyone it could be a different place or activity that brings us closer to Christ, whether it be walking out in the woods, or just taking some alone time to meditate in your own special place. We all have flaws, heartaches, and sins that we need to seek guidance in healing and that is a big part in being Christian and finding that place where YOU find Christ.

When the Night Comes.

Over the past few days my facebook newsfeed has been filled with calls for prayer. Yesterday, Ada United Methodist church in Northern Ohio was consumed in flames. This was the first church my mom attended as a small child, and it is a special place to my family and so many others who found sacred community there. There is something really terrifying about seeing a church, an image of sacredness, peace and stability ablaze. Looking at this photo, I couldn't help feeling like nothing is safe.

Then today, I saw the news that Lori Webster, my old boss and friend, is still facing a hard battle with cancer coupled with lupus. Lori is an amazing worship leader, friend and mother; and she is easily one of the most passionate, creative and encouraging people I have ever met. The cancer they had thought she'd beaten has come back with a vengeance, and her blood disease has made it impossible to treat the cancer and has led to multiple strokes. This news is heart-breaking to say the least. You can read more about Lori's story here.

In the wake of tragedy that feels senseless, sometimes it is hard to find the sacred. I feel inadequate to make sense and hope out of these dark places. There is no easy fix-- sometimes no matter how deep our faith, or how fervent our prayers, pain and destruction swallows up people and places that we love.

But somehow I still believe that even the places of death and destruction are not beyond God's reach. During lent, I am reminded that the desert journey sometimes looks hopeless, and darker than we can bear. But I find comfort in knowing that God is with us even here, and I know that God is not indifferent to such suffering. Somehow, I feel that God's heart is breaking with mine.

This hauntingly beautiful song by Josh Garrells (with incredible animation by Daniel&Arien) reminds me of the Easter promise that God is present with us, even as the night comes.

"when the night comes and you don't know which way to go... You will never be alone."

Mouse On A Motorcycle

Do you remember the first time you did something bad?

I do. I  was in second grade and a book fair came to school. My parents had given me money to go buy any book I wanted. Well, as a wide-eyed, shopper-in-the-making, I quickly got swept up in the glitz of the posters, stickers, pencils, markers and everything else that wasn't a book. I spent my allotted funds and walked out of the elementary school library with a big ol' bag of goodies. I got back to my classroom, sat at my desk and thought I'd be so excited to show off my new possessions. But the excitement never came.

Do you remember the first time you did something right?

After awhile of letting my six-year old brain sort through the situation, I walked back to the library, returned my items and bought a book. I can still remember it was a children's novel about a mouse that rode a motorcycle. As I walked back to the classroom, I stared at the cover of that book and felt such an intense pride in my decision and knew that I had done the right thing.

To this day, I can clearly visualize that walk back to the classroom, holding that paperback. In fact, I recall this memory a lot and on purpose. I use it as my touchstone of truth and doing the right thing. Remembering the pure bliss that follows a honorable action.

To me, there's no other explanation for that feeling than the Holy Spirit.

There's always this moment where we have the choice. It's usually filled with pressure and a ball of knotted thoughts spinning in your mind. I believe that blink-of-an-eye moment is sacred because it seems to be the most sincere moment of truth within ourselves. It's the test of a knee-jerk reaction we hope we've trained ourselves well for. We pray that we have strength and faith without having to think about it.

When I blink in those moments, I hope that there's a vision of a mouse on a motorcycle.

The Almighty

When you are going through life and having a hard time you look to a higher god. I had lost my grandma someone dearly close to me. When I met Jason god had bless me with him. God has put me through rough and tough times but, I have found my way through.

I went to church one day and kept asking god a special question "What should I do with the church group?" God answered and said " Go my child". So I went on my church school retreat and had a blast. That's when I knew I had a special connection with god. That's when I knew I believed in God The Almighty.

Camel Knees, Running Shoes and Cycling on the Open Road

Did you know James, the brother of Jesus, frequently knelt while in prayer and supposedly formed callouses on his knees earning him the nickname 'camel knees.' In our home we don’t have calloused knees, but we do have a litany of running shoes and well-worn cycling tires. No matter where I am, the trails of Marin, or around the canals of the Amsterdam, or between the cornfields in Pennsylvania, I find a renewed sense of peace when I’m out on a long run. For Jay taking a moment between intervals at the top of Mount Tam keeps life in perspective. Jay and I both find our endurance activities give us a pause in the day to reflect, to listen and to think on life.

Where do you go to find God?

Therefore, since we have so great a cloud of witnesses surrounding us, let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author an perfecter of faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.

~Heb. 12:1-2

Wilderness Poems

This weekend I able to spend time in the mountains and woods at St Dorothy's Camp in Sonoma County on an Artist's and Writer's retreat. It was an amazing way to go deeper into the season of Lent. As I walked through the redwoods, I thought and prayed about what it means to follow the Spirit into the wilderness and I looked for the way that God speaks through the wild landscapes of trails and mountains and tangled forests. I wanted to share some of the writing (always a continued work in progress) that came from my weekend away.

Wilderness Poems

I.

As this ground cracks herself open

to make way for such insistent sprouts,

does she know what a miracle she is offering?

Does that dark, fertile soil know

she is a womb giving birth to new life

with each cresting moment?

Would such knowledge

make this eternal labor

any more or less

miraculous?

II.

This earth is a body being broken.

She is split and torn

as determined roots

push their way

through her toughened flesh.

She is both fractured and strong.

I come to this wild place

seeking gentleness

But what I find is

sometimes life, like birth,

is a kind of violence.

III.

This earth is God's body.

Her gentle curves willing to endure

both our uglinesses and our brutalities.

I know no other word

for this but love.

Her embrace persists

through my many rebellions.

When I come back to her

barefooted, like a child,

she receives me into her

as though I have at last

come home.

Come To the Edge

Come to the edge.
We might fall.
Come to the edge.
It’s too high!
COME TO THE EDGE!
And they came,
and he pushed,
and they flew.

-Christopher Logue

Fear is a funny thing. Fear takes our delicately virginal-white sheet of untainted paper, and with its giant, devouring, powerful hands it sweeps in and crumples us into a fine tousled mess of confusion, distress, and defeat. That could be the very end of it if we allowed for such a travesty. End of show. Final chapter. Cue the credits. In fact, we could snuggle our way into the warm and comfortably unchallenging confines of a dark and unkempt wastebasket and be perfectly complacent until the end of our days on earth. Besides, one man’s trash is another’s treasure, right? Rotten banana peels and half wet tea bags aren’t the worst we could face in life. It’s not that bad.

But what if we took the opposite approach? What if we embraced our new shape and used it to our advantage? When you think about it, a crumpled piece of paper travels a lot further through space and time than an unaffected white square floating unconsciously throughout its existence.

What if we jumped off the cliff instead? What if we took the risks we never thought we could?

When I allow myself the freedom to create authentically; when I forget the external reflection of my actions and acknowledge the gently nudging positive voices deep inside of me; when I push past the fear and take a step toward the unknown by utilizing my gifts for the benefit and joy of others; and when I make a truthful connection with another human being; then, and only then, do I experience the most conscious and life-altering jolt of the sacred throughout my body and beyond…into the realm of my spirit.

And they came,

and He pushed,

and we flew.

Welcome Home

the creative altar

In her book The Artist's Rule Christine Valters Painter writes, "Discover the sacred in your artist's tools; they are the vessels of the altar of your own unfolding. Look at this cup of holy water, washing clean the brushes. See the blank page, awaiting your blessing. Gaze on the colors before you, each one a name of God: Safron, Cobalt, Azure, Ruby. Let this be your prayer."

This quote about the way God is present through the creative arts seems particularly significant and beautiful in light of the season of Lent. Yesterday, on Ash Wednesday, we were reminded that we are but ashes and dust. For me, this is a reminder of our creative potential, a reminder of the beautiful story of creation when God's artist hand reached into the soil to shape new life. With God, every small thing has the potential for beauty. Every ordinary object and life is an altar for the sacred, a place where God breathes and moves.

I see lent as a journey back to our creative roots. A reminder that with the raw materials of our lives there is the potential for something boldly and wildly colorful to unfold. On this journey where we attempt to follow Jesus into the metaphorical wilderness, I am reminded that no landscape is too desolate for God's creative work. This includes the dull, every-day routines of my own life. Lent invites me to see my life with new eyes: to look for the Artist God hiding in every color, every interaction, every hum-drum moment. And through my own creative work during the next 40 days-- whether that's writing, painting, praying or just engaging in relationships-- I hope to become more entangled with this Artist God so that my life might become a canvas where something new can emerge. For me the space of Lent is the kind of creative altar that Valters Painter describes: a place where the sacred unfolds as we creatively engage with the Divine.

A Dusty God

Since it is Ash Wednesday and all, I have been thinking today about the sacredness of dust and ash. Most Ash Wednesday services have us reflect on our own mortality and transience and receiving ashes on our forehead is meant to be a reminder of this. "Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return," is a common mantra for this ceremony. Still perhaps feeling the invincibility of young adulthood and, thankfully, not having the aching body to further remind me of my dust-like nature I don't know if the full effect of these words has really hit me. The glorious Spring day that we have been enjoying in the Bay Area today has made it especially difficult to feel solemn and reflective about life. Walking home from church smelling the trees in bloom, feeling the breeze blow through the valleys of Marin, and looking out across the hills it is hard to feel anything but pure joy about the life that I am already experiencing.

It was while making that walk from our home to church this morning that I began to notice the sacredness of my dusty existence. In fact, if given the choice between the dusty outdoors or the well-swept confines of a sanctuary on a day like today I would probably stick with the dust. Perhaps this is over-romanticizing the beautiful parts of the world over the mundane, but I would like to think that the ever-present potential for something wonderful that truly inspires me.

A while ago on Facebook a video was being passed around that shows an artist creating a series of drawings where the artist covers what appears to be an overhead projector with sand and by scraping away the sand in some places, adding some in others creates some really awesome stuff. Here it is if anyone hasn't seen it:



This, of course, demonstrates many things, but today it reminds me of the infinite possibilities that something as mundane as dirt can have. I have often found myself questioning lately the idea of a transcendent God that is somehow above or beyond creation, an idea that would seem to place eternal life and a return to dust in a sharp opposition. Perhaps dust itself is sacred, perhaps returning to it isn't such a bad thing, and perhaps we worship a God who is, in fact, quite dusty. Today I see God being something like that sand painting and the whirlwind of possibilities that it can become. I then find something sacred in imagining myself as related to all of these possibilities as I am related to the dust from which they are formed. In any case, perhaps Lent is a good time to give cleanliness a bit of a break and look for God in the messy.

join the journey

This Lenten blog is a place for us to reflect on the question, "Where do you or have you encountered the sacred in your life?" Your post can then be an artwork, a poem, a song, a video, a story, or anything else that has been meaningful to your spiritual life. Just make sure you share a sentence or two about why whatever it is you share is meaningful to you.

To contribute e-mail Kyle at theokyle@gmail.com or Katie at ktrinter@gmail.com and sign up for a date here.

beginning the journey

Wild Geese

A poem by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.