from Songs of Unknowing
Christ, if you came knocking
at my door another time,
and not so close to death,
Life is like the sea, it can be peaceful, or it can be rough and rocky.
The tides of life lift me up to the heights of jubilation, and drop me down to the depths of despair.
I traveled in a little boat they call the body, that was fortunate enough to meet his craft.
For a while the breezes blew us together softly.
We weathered storms and hurricanes in our path as we traveled together, but we could not weather the feared shadow of death.
Death came as a riptide, taking him to the fathoms of the deep.
How did I get here,
So far from my heart.
The flame in my soul,
Once burning so bright
Now struggles to survive
In the dark of night.
I hurt to search for god(s)
inside or out:
the empty, echoing
unanswered questioning . . .
How hard to uncreate realities
when none are given sure,
All the raging places are gone,
the unattainable places,
except for the death of my friends.
I always want to remember
the violation I feel at
Lately, I have been winding down on my former whirlwind life of spiritual guide and teacher. Maybe it's old age, but I want a quieter life now. Oh, I'm still giving small classes and seeing private clients, but not at the breakneck pace I have kept up for so long.
When Joann Turner told me that she was ready to step back and asked if Allen and I would like to carry on with The Messenger, it was a welcomed with open arms. Joann and I have known each other for, as my uncle Bud used to say, "A coon's age." We worked together at WellspringBooks and Lifesource for a while before Joann, brave soul that she is, quit to follow her dream of publishing The Messenger. I've always admired her for that.