Hide and Seek

 

My thoughts are swirling tonight.

Are there any thoughts worth unraveling. Or perhaps, writing will calm the swirling of thoughts?

 To pull a thread of words, and knit. A hat, a rug, some doily.

 To knit.

With holes in between the yarn.

I’ve always wondered what was the point of it, as it seems knitted hats feel like wearing a hat of windows----all open. And chilly.

I once made a whole pile of rugs, knitting, old discarded cloth.

They ended up looking more like pink and blue sombreros, and used as dog beds---with the middle really tight, and the outside much more loose.

A sombrero.

Me writing something down. There’s a little loop.

What to say?

So many thoughts, and yet, when it comes to finding thread.

I feel for it.

Sometimes I find it.

Sometimes not.

Sometimes I wait.

Sometimes I just write.

I’m mostly wondering what I would tell myself, after this last week?

 

What would I say to me. About it? Other than all this weird commentary floating around in my head.

 

I write something. Then read it, and think it sounds edgy.

Delete.

Even the font is bugging me.

It seems too harsh.

Edgy.

We need more loops and soft swirls in life, more beautiful twists, and elegant souls, ---- cursive. I see why it is so beautiful. It goes up and down, like waves of the ocean, taking your boat easily where it wishes to go.

Cursive.

Though I have a hard time reading it, honestly.

And my writing in cursive isn’t very smooth.

Hence here, on my keyboard is my cursive. My waves.

 A tide, that rises and ebbs.

The moon reflected on the surface.

And I pause here with you, and watch the waves, the moonlight.

And my own rising and falling of the waves.

A distant cry of some seabird, calls out.

The wind combs through the waves as they wash onto the shore.

The ocean smells cool, and salty.

The wet sand beneath our feet.

An ocean of words, I sea before me.

To swim in them, or just look, and smooth out the waves by my own seeing?

What is reflected in them?

What does the ocean say?

What see, do I see?

My own heart.

Mist.

A boat.

Me.

Schools of thoughts, swimming by.

Dreams like dolphins leap, and dive.

A moon lantern, echoed in the curving waves.

Clouds above, and clouds below.

And I find myself stepping on to the water, and swimming, floating.

And flying.

A waterbird.

And I see, deep within the ocean places, like sunken ships, treasure, and memories.

Some untold.

And then things bubble up.

The places where I neglected to see what needed to be seen sooner.

Washed up places.

The raw bits.

The messages in bottles.                     

The Sos’s some soul sent out.

And you go through storms of life, and see all the places

You wish you could fix, and heal.

And find out, mostly, all you can do is be with those things.

Offer them space of your you.

And you look at things you wish you cared for better, and you feel humbled.

You see the hidden fleas, the leaky washers, of life, and the headaches that test you.

And you learn, how much you can be with yourself in all the ups, and downs of life. 

How to listen to those parts of yourself that have gone unheard.

The parts of life that you must listen to, those without words.

To have compassion on them.

And you learn to fly in front, for a moment, or float in front. And the humility of being able to fly in front for bit, is that you know, very much, that soon, someone else will be the one flying in front, and you’ll be the one being helped.

And so, this is the humility of life. And wisdom.

That there is beauty in all parts of life. Especially the hard bits.

To weep over things you wish you could have seen sooner. To forgive your own neglect.

To look at all the places you have been afraid to look at, and thank God that he stepped onto your boat. 

Kept it through all kinds of weather.

To forgive the piled up messy bits of life, the heaped up dishes.

The garbage’s that flood. All the things you try to do, but have to pray your way through. 

To give everything you have away, and hope that someday, somehow, it’s enough. Even though you feel so very inadequate.

Yes, finding beauty in the parts of life that are ugliest, is one of the most challenging things you’ll ever do. To see the suffering and still call it grace. To see your own places where you can’t fix, and lay down all you have, and grope in the humility of your own decay.

And to see all the things in your life that you cannot fix.

To see all the things in need of healing, and mending, and try to be as present, and as compassionate as you can be with life, and yourself, and the selfs around you.

And sit with the sorrow of all the broken pieces.

And know some days, you can do all those hard things.

And some days, you have to be with the hard things.

To see all our strengths and weaknesses like seasons.

Summers, and springs, and Autumn, and winters.

And all of us seasons, and climates going on at different times.

All weathering it out together.

Learning of our own seasons, and times.

And letting it all be.

As we be with our own weather.

  And you see.

Broken piece, by broken piece.

That the beauty lies in our humanity. In our humility. In the places where you are not as strong---someone else is.

And perhaps that’s the way it’s supposed to be.

So we all walk each other home, together.

And let the decay take away what is not yours, anyway.

Let it point you, where God is directing.

We all can take turns being the helped, and the helper.

The known, and the knower.

The seen, and the see-er.

The forgiven, and the one forgiving.

Taking turns.

As God plays hide and seek.

And we find the divine hidden between the folds in all the fabrics of life. In all the textures, and in all the flavors.

And in those dusty places in your life you least expected the God to be hiding in.

The broken bits of life.

And these vivid moments where you be present.

With it all.

You see the beauty that comes from all the broken things. And when you zoom out, you are amazed at the threads connecting us all.

Mending things in ways that only Spirit can do. 

Amazed, at how spirit works, and sews, and weaves.

Helping us heal each other.

And if your are lucky, you can laugh, and cry, and remember, the beauty in it all. 

And how the story weaves us all together at all the right times.

And everything happens perfectly.

Beautifully. 

I have seen it, time and time again.

Beautiful souls placed on my path.

Gifts of love.

Life has never felt more more intense, and vivid, and real, and raw, and oh so very much heart.

And so much beauty.

So much I didn't see, magic happening all the time.

Souls interconnected.

Grace always flying in front, in the middle, and behind. 

Showing me views, that words fall short, to describe.

So many to love. So much to feel.

And here we all are. 

And I am thankful.

That we are still here.

And it's all a bit funny. All a bit weird.

All a bit something.

And you find, even in the weepable chapters, lies a vivid, present hereness, where God was with you the entire time.

And those experiencing it with you, see too, the threads weaving this story together.

And that is a beautiful gift.

To see.

And to say, I felt spirit walking on my water.

Calming my waves. 

And how beautiful it is to feel loved.

To know what it is.

And to feel God's presence encircling you.

Loving you.

Healing you.

Healing your life, in ways you might not know, or understand yet.