Open Season

Once in a while I feel so good
A tingle press
Inside my chest
And my spirit soars up
Like in sappy songs
But for real it does rise I swear 
And I know it will be fleeting
So I gather up all I can
I've hit a clay pigeon

And that's a good start

It will do for today
But what I really want to do
Is to fly in the sky just like them.


BK

On behalf of mankind

Blessed are the fucked up, for they spend serious energy trying to figure out what the hell's going on.


BK

Olive Jar

We are like pimento olives
Packed so tight 

Together in the jar
That we shape one another
Eyes pressed to the glass
Looking out and wondering
Why there doesn't seem to be
Anyone out there like us. 



BK

A better place to live

For as long as I can recall, I have always wondered why Life isn’t about what I thought it should be.

I always felt like Life should be about improving yourself, and looking out for others, and making the world a better place than it was when you got here.

But I got off on the same tangent lots of people do, dwelling on possessions, and professional career, and basing my opinion of myself on what I thought other people made of me.

Now I am beginning to realize I was right in the first place. It's like I have my own permission now to worry only about the things I really wanted to.

BK

Daily reprieves

I think what happens is we have unrealistic expectations of ourselves, and of others around us. So when we eventually despair at our failure to achieve the impossible, and to accept others as they are, we become convinced either that God's grace does not exist, or we are simply not worthy of it.

So we decide we are going to have to go it alone, fighting upstream on will power, and as we are beaten by the effort our view becomes bitter and hopeless.

We have to remember that we are fine. We are perfect, in fact. We deserve love and we are loved. Nobody is judging us but ourselves.

We have to wake up every day and remember something: "One day I will die. What will matter then will be only memories of loving and being loved. I must not be distracted from this by petty annoyances. Everything is the way it should be. I am blessed. I must relax, and enjoy my life fully."

Every day.


BK

A balance of body and mind

I often hear about how people 'mellow with age', and I see examples of it everywhere myself. But I wonder how much mellowing is a result of acquired wisdom, vs. how much is the result of diminishing senses and a failing body, precluding the wordly diversions that once tested a younger soul?

It seems to me that the best spot to be on a continuum between these two factors is smack dab in the middle. A little bit battle-tempered, and a little bit relieved by old age.

Because simply battling to the end, or surrendering a life's desires to incapacity, would be a bitch.



BK

Pirate's Eyes Hangovers

I really don’t miss those ragged black birds

That pecked out my eyes 

Before they'd even opened

In the morning

Left empty sockets 

Staring at the sun

For any answers at all 

To questions about shadows

And while we’re at it I shudder

Also to recall

Lining up the night before

To take part

In carnival loudness

Hollow searches for love 

Good God I don't miss that either.

BK

Shame, shame.

Faith, gratitude, humility. Faith, gratitude, humility.

These three.

I'm convinced these are the basic cornerstones of contentment. Every time I feel tweaked I can trace it back to the juggler in my head dropping one of these balls.

Today I felt ashamed for exposing a bit of emotional underbelly. Nothing too dramatic, and nothing unwarranted. But I was rattled in general by the situation, and when I felt the pins knocked out of me I wobbled toward a familiar sense of shame. One that accompanied me regularly in past, and the sensation touched off a reunion of ill feelings that roamed together too recently in the same old gang.

So I did my little trace-the-problem-back-to-the-basics thing and picked up where my juggler dropped the Humility ball.

My shame today was prideful. My shame about feeling genuine emotion must be dangling from a creeping wish for a personality other than what God gave me.

But if I were truly humble, I would accept myself - if only on the basis that I don't know how the world needs me presented in it. I don't want to try to be part of the grand scheme, in a manner other than how God fashioned me.

This is the first time I have looked at humility in a bountiful light, rather than limiting. Recognizing myself as possessing the range of my fundamental traits -- comfortable to live with or otherwise -- for good reason. What I think to be shortcomings may actually be crucial assets toward my unique contribution to the world.

In past it seems I have always experienced humility in a grim glare of self-effacement. Gone at it rooting out weeds of grandiosity and artifice, but also strangling self esteem as collateral damage. Humility, I am beginning to realize, is as much about accepting your essential self as it is about rejecting pretense to be seen otherwise.

I am what I am because God wanted it that way and I don't know why, but my understanding is not necessary. My place is to suit up and show up. And to bring that embarrassed sensitivity with me. I might need it today. Or someone I meet may need it. And I will have it there with me to help them.

Resistance to self-acceptance runs through my kind. It shows up especially after we get banged up a bit. Unsettled and uncertain. Sloshing back and forth between outward resentment and inward self-loathing.

I sometimes wonder if that runs to our cores, or if it's just below the surface. Like layers you might be able to work through, and sand them away forever.



BK

In suffering there is opportunity...

You can't accept God and feel sorry for yourself. To resent your lot amounts essentially to refuting God's will.

And in suffering, there is opportunity. Our moments of courage of faith may inspire and perhaps one day be drawn upon by others. Our demonstrations of genuine acceptance and courage can in themselves become acts in the service of God: We can reinforce the sustenance of others' faith directly by how well we bear the weight of our own misfortunes.

So it may suck, but we can realize that something worthwhile is getting something done by the grace we show going through it.



BK

Not a Timex

Sometimes I get the feeling
God is up there showing somebody
The precise amount of stress
I can take before cracking


BK

What would a drop of dew do...

I grew up as fire

Right from my roots

Blackened inside by hidden little embers

I’d stoked along my way

So if the valley got dark 

I could light it up

And when I summoned fire

It burst from me in a shower of sparks

And even the wind held its breath

And even I was impressed at times

But some times I lit the crowns of others

And that’s a consequence of fire

So not my fault, I said

If you can’t stand the heat…

Then one day my embers became too hot and too many

And I burnt myself down to a heap of ashes, 

Blackened and cold

Scattered and scorched, angry lips curled like burnt leaves 

But the spark of my birth

Cannot be sustained on cold ashes

So I faded out 

And blew around for a long time

Dry and empty, afraid and alone

Indescribable darkness

Then on one more day with no hope

A new spark arrived, nearly imperceptible 

But definitely there

And somehow suspended in a drop 

Of cool water

And a Voice said, “There I’ve returned it,

“Don't burn yourself again.”

And so I'm really trying

To keep the smallest spark in me bright

And make the rest water

Just one drop of it

Because a drop of water is relaxed or else

It cannot be a drop

It clings up high 

Or plummets down

A drop resists none of it  

It glides from tap to drain

And sparkles back at tap again

And so must I 

BK