Tag: life

Thank You: A Conversation with Wisdom

Oh, how I love thee, Wisdom.

For you have become to me like a sister;
you have made insight my closest of friends.

Every day you come and visit me,
Staying long, dwelling in my home.
You gently speak, sometimes loudly shout,
Your words are the greatest of treasures; I hold them very close to my heart.

Where would I be without you!
What would I have become?

For my own strength would have been counted as the dust,
my efforts as a futile pursuit.

But you, Wisdom, are a lamp to my feet, a light to my path,
A help, a guide, my daily companion.

Home

How beautiful would the song of the angels have been,
as they welcomed them home.

The beauty that was promised to be seen,
now gazed upon.

His fullness now experienced in a form of entirety,
As we gaze into the eyes of eternity.

How beautiful are his feet,
they carried good news.
His eyes are like fire,
his hair is as wool.
His voice like the sound of many waters,
yet it stills my soul.

How beautiful is the song of the angels,
as we are welcomed home.

Spoken word version of Home

Shadows and Giants

I awake, and heavy is my heart,
In the blue chair I sit, staring out of the window,
Straight into the darkness,
Inside or out, I cannot tell the difference.

A heavy heart.

Thinking of all the things I should and should not have done,
The things I need to do, that weigh, that ache, that whisper deep inside and won’t let go.

Then, I saw it.

My creation,
Pulled from the depths of my emotion and imagination,
Sparked to life,
My picture.

Inside or out, I cannot tell the difference,

The boy and the giant,
The staff and the sword,
The stone and the spear,
The sling and the javelin,
The impossible versus the done,
David and his Goliath.

The giant, staring down,
The boy, focused and determined,

Knowing, that by all means, this giant, his giant, will indeed come, tumbling, down.

Spaces In-Between: A Conversation

“I’m in a season of coolness,” I said to her. “You know, I wake up, and it’s not all at 100. I’m learning, but it’s all very manageable.”

I paused… “But I know that I need to get going, move into the next thing, where I’m stretched, and can feel and know it continually.”

She smiled.

“It’s ok to have seasons of it being cool. We can learn as much in those times, as we do in the stretch and busy times.”

I reflected on the statement. It was true. I had become clearer on the important things to me, what and who brought me joy. Which things were useless, just a chasing of the wind.

She saw my reflection, and gave me a few seconds…

“Leave space open for other things to fill the space,” she said.

That was powerful to me.

Because, you never know what beautiful things will come in – if you let them.

Swings

A poem by Zephaniah

“Higher, higher, higher!” she shouts,

“You’re not pushing me, high enough!

I want to touch the sky,

Put my head in the clouds,

See the sun, the stars, the moon.”

“Careful… careful”, he responds,

“Not too high now, what if you fall.

It’s dangerous and scary, what if you hurt yourself?”

“I won’t hurt myself,” she replies,

Smiling, she looks out, assured,

“You’ll be there to catch me if I fall.”

Listen to Swings recited by Zephaniah.

Waiting

I waited,

I saw only shadows, figures of the night,

Tall and ominous, immovable, unknown.

But, I waited.

They were now pointing, scowling, rough,

I stared back, one seemed to stir, to make a move,

But, I waited.

The shadows started to emerge, the light of dawn started to arise, as I sat at my window’s post, as the sun arose,

The truth unveiled by my waiting,

I saw those shadows and figures for what they truly were,

Those scowling shadows, once ominous and immovable, unknown,

Those figures of the night, that cause doubt and fear,

Simply, just, trees and houses.

The Bird in My Garden

A poem by Zephaniah.

“How I long to be as free as a bird,

Hopping among the leaves,

Gliding from tree to tree,

The entire world is my playground,

The work of others is my feed,

I see and bask in all of creation, and its creativity,

Its energy. Come rain, sun or storm,

I’m always reminded that I am free.

Then I stopped looking at the bird in my garden,

And I’m reminded that the bird is me.”

Narrated version of The Bird in My Garden

The Power of a Mission

Another day. No need for an alarm clock. Energy had forced its way into their wary bones. They arose, driven on by their goal, their joint enterprise and mission…

Get the baby to be quiet.

Fear, Perfectionism. A Saturday Afternoon In My Kitchen.

imperfection

I was thinking. Just considering. You know when you take a step back, and just look at yourself, trying as best as you possibly can, to do it wholeheartedly, without bias and the rose tints. Well, I was doing that. I wasn’t getting much back from it, no epiphany, no fantastic insight, no next great step.

So I just decided to have a cup of coffee. Black coffee.

I boiled the kettle, measured out 3 teaspoons of Nescafe, waited for the inevitable click and poured the water. I sipped once and just stood there. Peering, no, actually staring, I was staring at nothing. I sipped again, and again, and again.

For some strange reason, the next sips came with steps. I walked up the staircase and found myself in my home office. I sat down. Looking at the empty monitors. “Youtube.com” I thought. So, I typed it in. “Let’s find something interesting to watch”. Some recommendations popped up, a few documentaries, an Avengers Endgame, “Easter Eggs you missed” video. Naturally, with the mood I was in – reflective, meditative and ponderous I clicked the Avengers video.

30 seconds in. I turned it off. Went into my OneNote, and clicked into my writing notebook, and started looking at my writing drafts. I was surprised. Very surprised. Roughly 40 started but never “finished” pieces of writing. Varying from short fictional & non-fictional stories, longer extended essays, how-to’s and tips and tricks – you name it. They were there. Just sat there. Never “finished”.

I read a few. Hmm… Some were crap, some were good, they made me laugh, ponder and reflect. “Why did i never hit publish”, I wondered aloud. Perfectionist? Fearful? Wait, I retorted to myself. “Aren’t those two things just interchangeable?” Maybe they are for writing.

Then. All of a sudden, I moved into autopilot. WordPress.com, drafts – and I just started writing. I wrote this.

Then I told myself. Publish these drafts. So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Screaming In Closed Spaces

HELP!” A female voice pierced the atmosphere. A shout. A massive shout!

My eyes and head immediately looked up and to my right. Then, a furious hand clap followed, accompanied with another, “Help!”

A few people stood up. I noticed my heart beat quicken, followed by a brief rush of adrenaline. What is happening, what is going on.

Suddenly. A young lady bounded down the aisle. “I’m a doctor,” she confidently proclaimed.

Ok.

I felt the collective inaudible sigh of relief from everyone else.

This isn’t what you want to be happening, in the middle of your transatlantic Virgin Airlines flight.

Normality resumed

Apparently someone was having a seizure.

A lady on my right looked over.

“Exactly what you don’t want to hear in the middle of a flight,” she said, still obviously shaken up. I gave her a reassuring smile. You know, one of those, I’m here for you smiles. I think it helped.

“I know right” I replied.

Going through traumatic, tough experiences together accelerates bonding.

Ask the cast of Love Island.

So I’m glad I was there for her.

The woman who had the seizure was fine.

Everyone went back to sleeping, reading, drinking and eating.

Me. I wrote this, and pondered the main thought I had as the situation unfolded.

If I go to the next life now, that’s disappointing. There’s still more to experience, more to see, more to do, and more to give.

But I’m at peace. I go and see my maker.