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Thoughts on a Contemplative Reformation

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Site title: Thoughts on a Contemplative Reformation – At the Intersection of Contemplative Practice, Poetic Imagination, and Congregational Ministry

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Message History

"Childhood Still Life:” where I came from, where I am, and where I am being invited to go

Childhood Still Life Gravel crunches under foot, with cotton, corn, and tombstones all tended in rows. The sharp-sweet smell of pine resin dripping down the trunks of trees like sweat in the hot sun. I press the thick golden sap, leaving small fingerprints on distant generations’ gems. Windchimes sing across the yard as a Summer storm rolls in, a growing sha...

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"Carnelian”: a poem about memory…perhaps

Carnelian

I hold the stone in my hand,
solid and smooth and old as time,
pale red, the color of faded blood
and rust, the swirl of cream in coffee,
formed of fire and water
and a precipitation of chalcedony–
or so the books say–
tinged with a kiss of iron.

When I squeeze it hard enough
I can see my own bones
and sinew ben...

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A Blessing for the Turning: A poem for the Equinox

A Blessing for the Turning: A poem for the Equinox This morning I walked, whispering prayers for awareness, gathering the remaining flowers on the cusp of the Equinox. This is what I began to hear: Your roots now stretching deep below in earth embraced by longer night, as leaves release and now let go and wisdom nurtures inner sight of temples green now kis...

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"We have not lost our soul:” a poem-prayer for awakening and transformation

We have not lost our soul It is just that our hands are full, and we needed to set something down to hold all we felt we needed to hold. We made a choice as to what we would worship, and our knees have bent to the idols we thought would satisfy our yearning. Our soul lies on the cool grass while we dance with anger, a partner who is never satisfied until w...

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"A darkness more beautiful:” Learning to rest in a space that can hold all of life

A darkness more beautiful In the deepest room of my heart you live, unknown and untouched by my mind’s brittle grip. There is freedom in that space of sweet darkness, where my soul blooms in silence and waits for the slightest touch of your breath. Yes, within my heart there is a great sea, stretching as far as hope and as deep as desire. The sea is black a...

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