The Trackless Path

I have to slow down and visit meaning

Or it escapes me. I have to ask myself,

Do I find meaning in what I'm doing now?

I ask it all the time, of myself.

And to my surprise 

It often says, 

Aye, there's meaning.

And that's classic, to find it 

In the most unexpected ways and places.

But it's not enough to find my meaning 

I have to see it in others also.

I have to hear the stories.

I have to watch their

Sacred paces.

And the sight, the sound, of it

Restores my faith in meaning itself.

And as, like a flood, it washes over me,

I am restored to the unnameable meaning of it all.

There are those who try to deny hell

But I am not sure why.

There are those

Who choose hell in this life

When the light shines the day long.

I can’t imagine that the next life is so different.

But I also can’t imagine 

That the light doesn’t shine brighter there.

But that means that the darkness 

Must also be deeper,

The contrast more stark.

There is always hope for those who want the light 

Though they flounder and fail to find it.

I do not worry about them.

But there are also those

Who do not want the light.

They seek out the shadows.

They revel in causing pain.

And you cannot force a soul to heaven

Though you extend the hand of mercy the day long.

I wish that I could give the world His love,

Not a system of belief,

But the Man 

Himself.

For I am cradled in his kindness.

My home is in His heart-

And though I wander 

O’er the earth

My pillow a stone,

My shelter rain,

I am at home

In Him.

It makes me think of those

Who have no home

In the love 

Of One.

It makes me want to wrap them up

In the harbor of my heart,

To clothe them with acceptance,

Peace, truth, and kindness,

And to free them, 

Like birds

To the belief that they are loved,

How is it done, I wonder,

When I, myself, 

Am yet like sparrows?

It seems so little to love.

And yet it, so often, has been 

The only thing I had to give.

Old friend, the world that you have chosen,

The spoil that you have taken,

Sits rotting

Under your canopy.

“But I could pay,” you say,

“I could pay. And here is the receipt.”

Fool! You believe that you are the hero,

The saver of the day, the victor

By the thickness of your pocketbook.

And what’s more, that you have escaped

The eye that sees all things,

When in reality,

You have dealt treacherously.

You have whisked away the hearts

And the very souls of men

For your own pleasure.

Bring them back, I say!

Bring them back!

Before, with fierce anger,

I come into your house to repay.

And your family is stripped from you,

Your pocketbook emptied.

Your soul ravaged 

Of solace,

And you left desolate

Amid the furious winds

Of the desert of the soul.

Old friend, we are still friends.

But know that you can’t go on this way.

And I mourn to see the future that awaits

If you do not swiftly change your ways.

If the world will ever find peace

Good people will have to stop fighting.

It is not enough for good people to be good.

Being good has a blind spot. It makes you think

That you are justified in fighting for what is right,

In making war in defense of truth

And to preserve your freedom.

But freedom doesn’t need to be preserved.

It lives within the heart of those 

Who can’t be persuaded 

Not to speak the truth

Even when the enemy rages 

And the tyrant oppresses.

So be good. Speak the truth.

But also be kind. It is the way 

That leads to peace.

Some news.

I am going overseas.

I don’t know how I’ll get there.

But I’ve never known how I’ll get there.

And isn’t it strange that I could know such a thing?

And yet I do.

How long will it take me to get there?

I don’t know.

How will I support myself when I get there?

I think I know. More on that to come.

But in the end, God only knows.

And how long will I be there?

A year, a month, a day,

A lifetime?

God only knows.

One thing I know.

My path is a surprise.

And the joy is walking it with Him

Wherever he leads me. That’s enough.

If I were to just act

And stop thinking quite so much

I think I’d be better off.

So long as our intentions are good,

I don’t know that it matters that much

What we do so long as we do.

Do, do, do. In all things, do.

That’s what bodies are made for.

Do the best that can be done

Under the circumstances

And then move on

To another do.

I wonder if it’s the long-term 

That gets us thinkers into trouble.

We try to make choices 

That we can’t yet make.

I am sure there are some

Whose problem is the opposite

Who get themselves into trouble

Because they don’t think quite enough.

But for those of us whose addiction

Is trying to work it all out beforehand,

The antidote, it seems to me, is DO.

Lessons from Raymond, the homeless man 

Who helped prepare me for the road.

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

Lesson 10: Keep writing. Tell a story. Disappear.

This one surprised me.

It came in the days that followed.

Raymond had given me 2 books,

One deep, the other bubble gum.

Couldn't get past page 40 in the latter.

Couldn’t put down the former.

The author of the latter 

Was all over.

But I could not find a single word

About the author of the former,

It was published in 1939,

And the writer had disappeared from history

To spite the fact that his book

Was one of the most meaningful, 

Well-written, and moving stories I’ve ever read.

And in those two books, Raymond’s message 

Came through crystal clear:

Tell a story. Tell it well.

Move the people,

And then disappear.

Don’t try to be great.

Just try to tell a good story.

It’s enough.

I will gather the apples before they fall,

But not my apples, your apples,

If you'll let me.

You planted the tree with good intentions

But we all know how that goes.

And they'll soon go to waste.

I'll also clean your windows,

Mow your lawn,

Walk your dog,

If you let me.

You planned to do it all,

But we all know how that goes.

I'll even take out your garbage 

If you let me, so long

As I can rifle through your trash.

You bought that stuff with good intentions

But we all know how that goes. 

And I can make a living of your waste if you'll let me.

And what's more, don't put it past me to wait

Until you're bothered 

By the unused scrap of land

And are ready to let it go for a song.

I'll sing the song if you'll let me.

And pound out a golden paper

If you'll let me, if you'll let me.

I am the care-free scavenger.

My life is easy, risk-free, almost.

Because I know how that goes.

And I am willing to work and wait.

You can create another version of the past 

That serves a better future.

When you do something you regret,

Rewrite the experience in your mind.

And give thanks for God’s grace

In helping you to choose the better part

Even though you did not choose the better part.

Be descriptive in your re-writing,

Enough that gratitude wells up

For making the right decision.

See it. Feel it. 

Resist the tendency to disbelieve.

And you will actually create another reality.

Yeah…out of fantasy. 

But your brain doesn’t know that it’s fantasy.

It experiences those good feelings

As if they really happened.

If you do this consistently,

Sooner or later, you’ll discover

That you start doing the right thing

So that you can experience more 

Of the feeling you felt

In your made-up past.

It is a strategy for the weak

Who wish to be made strong through belief.