Possessions speak to us all day long.

That book you purchased

But have never read

Says

“Read me!”

And the empty shelf 

Says “fill me up with more.”

Some possessions warm and nurture

While others distract, dissuade, and even harm.

If we are not careful, the things we own

Can siphon off our strength.

Or they can build us up,

Make us better.

So choose carefully what you own

And don’t be afraid of letting go

Of a thing 

When it no longer serves 

The purpose for which it was purchased.

They say that not all who wander are lost,

And that’s true of me, I think. 

I wander, wander,

Never sure

Exactly where I’m going,

But also not without a rough idea.

The inner light points in a direction

And I begin to act, to move step by step

Toward the place where it feels that I should go.

And I trust the way to open up before me.

And it does. That’s the miracle

Though it does not come

Without the work

Of exercising faith.

I relate to the albatross and its endless worldwide journeys.

It is said that the albatross can travel ten thousand miles

To bring home one meal of oily vomit for its chick.

Yeah. I think that’s it. Ten thousand miles

To find one little treasure,

One morsel 

To regurgitate here upon the empty page.

I find myself wanting to expand upon this work.

To share more of what I see and feel,

More of the people that I meet

As I wander, wander,

Round the world.

A discussion of "Choose Your Story"

It is possible to serve the light

For your own sake?

To be 

Dark inside,

Filthy with secret pride

While outwardly stacking up

Your achievements, 

Allowing others

To laud your name, 

And never once realizing

That your soul is lost,

Not in gross immorality,

But in the actor’s game

The hypocrites play.

Listen closely

To yourself.

Is your story one of redemption?

Or is it the hero’s myth?

They are not the same story.

I have a deep distrust for the latter

And an unfailing affection for the former.

So don’t tell me how you slew the dragon.

Tell me about the dragon inside of you.

That’s the story I long to hear

Because he lives inside me too,

And it is all I can do

With the help of God

To find my way.

There is the part of me that likes to go out

And there is the part of me that likes 

To come back home.

And both play a part in the strange way 

That I support my family,

My family.

And you are part of my family.

I go out, and I come back home.

And I share the wisdom that I’ve found from the road

With the ones I love, the ones I love.

I love you, and I pray 

For you in your own journey.

Perhaps one day, you will grow up

To go out and come back home

And share your wisdom

From the road.

And the cycle goes round and round,

You are my children. And one day

You will have children

Of your own.

Lessons from Raymond, the homeless man 

Who helped prepare me for the road.

To view previous lessons, find my playlist entitled: Raymond Lessons.

Lesson 11: All Day Long

I almost didn’t mention this one

Because it contradicts 

Something else 

That Raymond said.

But it has become applicable.

You see, I was skeptical 

When he implied

That everything came to him without asking.

Sometimes, maybe. But always?

And so I asked Raymond,

Do you ever have to panhandle

To get the things you need?

“Yes,” he said.

“How much?” I asked.

“All day,” he said. “Every day.”

“Oh…” I said. And I didn’t like that answer.

Because now it appeared that our good fortune

Was a special providence, and that

I would not be able to escape 

The work of asking.

Many changes are afoot.

I stand on the brink 

Of, yet again, a leap of faith.

And somehow, it feels as if 

These little thoughts

Might just not be enough,

As if I should be, do,

Something more…

Something more…

And I wonder,

Is it enough?

What do you think?

Might the world feed me and my little tribe

If I just keep showing up…showing up?

Soon we will find out,

Won’t we?

I weave your dreams from autumn leaves 

Turned brown and drifting downward

Toward the emptiness 

Of summer skies

When the snow flurries

Upward toward the starlit heavens

And the moon looks down 

Upon the restless hopes

Of careworn souls

Who daren’t 

Believe

That anything

Could be so real 

As the grind of wheat upon the wheels of time.

And the feet of those who’ve gone before

In the dusty tracks of them

Who couldn’t find

Their way.

Today's poem... and the subject for today's episode.

I wonder, If I were someone else,

Would I be just like them.

I can't help but think

That to some degree, I would.

That makes me think that it's just me

Walking around and being everyone.

So many people can't help but be themselves,

Just like me, just like everyone.

I wish that I could be 

A better friend to them

And in turn, a better friend to myself.

God help me to see it deeper

To feel myself in the others

That I meet each day

I pray.

Taking a new format for these podcasts. Today I discuss the thoughts that precipitated the poem of the day:

Note to self:

People want what they want,

And some graciously give,

God bless them.

But when it comes to making a living,

It may be better me to focus on what others want

Not what I want. Sell them something

That they are already looking for.

And then use the surplus 

To graciously give.

One day, the world will change

To an economy of gifts.

I look forward to that day.

But in the meantime, it’s a balance.

We work. We sell the people what they want.

And then we give of our surplus property.

It is an imperfect system. 

But it works.

And perhaps we can use it as a tool 

To shine a light on the coming world of gifts.

I am the roots of the tree

The thing unseen.

I am

There but you can’t see me.

You think that it is you,

That it is he,

But it is we

Three.

Remember. Oh, remember.

And when you think that you’re alone

Draw deep from the unseen place that lingers

In the memory of what you were before you sprung

Up from the ground so many years before.

There we were together.

And though

You cannot see me.

I have never left you and I never will.

I am the source, the wellspring of your deepest desires. 

And one day, when you’ve grown tired of living,

And fall down hard to the unforgiving soil.

There I will wait to meet you deep

In the hollowed end, 

That is beginning.

Thank you

For letting me nourish you.

I am the roots, and I love you

And though you think that we are separated,

We are not. We cannot be, we three,

Are knit together in oneness

Always.