Category: Reflections

Poets speak of the angry sea,
the mighty waterfall.
We marvel at the power
of torrential rain,
the strength of a flood
that upends lives.
But, friends, it’s just water.
It’s not angry.
It’s only resting, or trying to.
Falling down.
Surrendering utterly to gravity,
seeking the lowest point,
allowing itself to be dropped,
pushed, blown, spewed.

You needn’t have great power.
But be mindful of the power
that moves you.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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The bees don’t mind my being here,
they hum around my hands and move
so calmly, patient, hovering near
their flowers with their special love,

ignoring me deadheading blooms,
with purpose they each bow, then turn
as servants move from room to room,
or altar boys with incensed urns.

We both perform our sacred tasks,
the gestures of our separate prayers,
each trusting each, and no bee asks
me of my thoughts nor I of theirs.

We never question how or why
each has their own peculiar grace;
each has their way to beautify
our little corner of this place.

We know there is a mystery
we both belong to, they and me,
not grasped by either me nor bee,
but, grasping us, makes us this “we.”

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           The tenants said, “This is the heir;
           come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.”
                         —Matthew 21.38


Jesus tells a story about wicked tenants
who want to take over a vineyard.
A vineyard would have been repossessed land
taken from farmers, turned to an export crop,
where they are now sharecroppers.
The story is a commentary on economic systems
that use people.
And also a hit at leaders
who are doing a lousy job.

But what if it’s also about us,
about our urge to take over religion
and make it ours?

God, I confess
sometimes I want to possess your vineyard,
to make my religion work out for me,
not merely to receive it but to control it,
to manage your grace,
to center it on me.
I repent of my mutiny.

I will let this be yours,
and I will work your fields.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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            The reason I speak to them in parables is that
            ‘seeing they do not perceive, and hearing they do not listen,
             nor do they understand.’
                      —Matthew 13.13


I rest the Bible in my lap.
Pick it up again, read again,
set the Bible down.
A moment. Then
I stumble through the parable
one more time.
Nothing comes.
This is not bad,
maybe even as it should be.

I go out into the woods.
I sit on an old stump and say,
“But what does this mean?”
and laugh at myself.
I sit longer, listening,
and then listening,
till at least I hear the air,
and something inside something
speaks silently to something
inside me.

Is it any different when I listen
to a neighbor?

I am learning to repent of my certainty,
to simply be mindful
that I don’t know,
to keep listening for what I haven’t heard.
To receive what is offered
without compulsion to master it,
to grasp, to understand.
Just listen and wonder.
Let the silences speak to each other.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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With the right instruments they say they can hear
echoes of the big bang resonating through the universe,
the low hum of light, the thrum of mass and gravity,
the music of attraction and expansion
in everything, the steady noise of being.

If you listen, quiet as an octopus,
you can hear echoes of the whisper
calling forth light from imagination,
worlds that have never been silent since,

and if you listen stone-deep, moon-still,
in everything, solid as iron in everything,
holy and given, you can hear the silence
that came before it. And in that silence
the pure hope of God.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

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Little sparrow
crisp as nature’s card trick
finding banquet enough
among sand and gravel
I would live as truly as you.

Little spider
doddle in nature’s margin
deft cartographer
hanging your art
and waiting
I would know as much as you.

Little bee of joy
flying pun
nosing the erotic flower
I would live as generously as you.

Little worm
good humor of the dirt
waving nodding left and right
then going left
renewing the soil
I would live as peaceably as you.

Little frog
surprise of a dead leaf leaping
your one ballet move
then still
I would live as you
in the hand of God.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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     May the peace of deep belonging settle upon you,
the abundance of life’s goodness surround you,
the warmth of divine delight burn within you.
     May the light of gentle wisdom guide you,
the courage of forgiveness set you free,
the wings of gratitude lift you.
     May your listening deepen,
your trust in grace flourish,
your joy be unleashed.
     Beloved, the Mystery envelops you,
the Wonder embraces you,
the breath of life flows through you always.


______________
Weather Report

Warm,
as the eye of the calm makes landfall,
with floods of grace and, yes,
showers of mercy.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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           The chief priests and the elders asked
           “By what authority are you doing these things,
           and who gave you this authority?”
                         —Matthew 21.23-24

Who gave the wren the authority to sing?
By what authority does the hurt child cry?
What authority is required of you to speak truthfully?
By what authority does a wound heal so magically?

Listen for the Spirit in you, that gives you life,
and that empowers your life-giving.
Listen for the truth that wells up in you,
whether it cries out in pain or in joy.

Though silenced, speak.
Disbelieved, proclaim.
Doubted, be true.
Listen to the Infinite Author who gives you your lines.

Take thou authority to speak and to act accordingly.
Surely you will be questioned by fearful people,
but they have no authority to question the divine.
Listen deeply, and fulfill the sacred office of your life.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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Kiss me with the lips
of your Word,
lips that are petals,
petals that fall like words
in a garden I didn’t plant,
lips of seeds kissing earth,
words falling like
“Let there be…,”
like “You are mine,”
your lips kissing
the lips of my heart
from which all day I am dizzy
and in love.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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O Darkness,
     come for me.

O Darkest One,
     eclipse my knowing.

Hold me in your mystery.
     Enfold me in your depths.

I give to you my bright naivete,
     my obvious, my polished day,

my candlelight, my handheld hope:
     nope. Blow it out and let me trust,

held in your night and knowing
     all is right.

Oh, let that darkness be my light,
     that eyelessness my only sight.

O Darkness, cover me,
     unseeing, knowing still,

and darker yet, unknowing,
     and yet known.

O Black Unfathomable,
     entomb me, womb me.

Let my darkness gently, closely hold
     you whom I never can behold.

O Darkness, close my eyes
     and let myself be held.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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