J.R. O'Neill's Creative Writing Blog

Time for Prayer

2011-07-03T08:38:00.001-05:00

I spent the better share
of the past week
lifting, sorting and setting
things down.
Moves require such activity.

Prayer, on the other hand,
simply requires time.
Today I embrace
a Sabbath slow down,
gladly accepting
my human tempo
with time to listen.

And do you know
with truck chuck full
and 2,000 miles still
stretched out before me
I'm simply listening
to what's going on
and things are
taking shape by themselves!

Wind Calls

2011-06-29T09:18:00.007-05:00

Early morning wind calls
with golden rays
of Minnesota sun,
moon still lingering
on the horizon.

One peopled bird
after another
flies overhead,
slowly decending
toward the
Minneapolis/St Paul Airport.

A voice in me says,
"I am not free
like you.
I must move
within the limits
of this body,
slowly fading
like the moon."

To which the wind
responds,
"Says who?"

Wild Winsome Worship

2011-06-18T13:57:00.004-05:00

O wild, winsome worship,

wind and word

and tasty wheat!

I cease to question

Morning Star

and become light of day

flame in dank and darkness.

To Maker I sing

and heart takes wing!

Silence fills soul

with song that

celebrates my name.

O wild, winsome worship,

wind and word

and tasty wheat!

I Am

alive

and I

a new creation!

Hagia Sophia

2011-06-15T09:42:00.007-05:00

I met my sister today.

No, not sweet Peggy

who I'd love to see.

I met Hagia Sophia,

my sister Wisdom.

She welcomed me tenderly.

What wordless gentleness

flowed from her!

Eagerly she showed me

my hidden wholeness,

that rock

wherein my beauty lies,

that holy ground

upon which I stand.

Threshold

2011-06-08T13:30:00.005-05:00

I am glad

(Help my ungladness)

for refining fire

that burns inspired

I am laughing

(midst my tears)

on breezy sill

of flitting fears

Dry thorn, heart torn

(Come soon!)

past eyes there lies

a lovely bed of bloom

Wind on Whidbey

2011-06-07T11:16:00.003-05:00

It's windy on Whidbey today.

Beauty in lone tree swings

not in warm ray

or cold gray

but beyond sensibility.

Cloud and rain

raising and refining

an interplay of sense and spirit,

thought and imagination,

day gifting

rich melancholy to a heart

that longs for Love's embrace.

Sweet Treat

2011-06-03T10:59:00.004-05:00

Oh, bird that hums

on apple branch

young sun

glistening

off golden breast

Our lives but

flit and flutter

yet this

sight of might

and eternity

You and I

and a

whirl-winged instant

sweet treat

of Eden!

Absorbed

2011-05-31T10:33:00.006-05:00

Watering flowers
in early morning light
soil gladly absorbs
becoming breakfast
moist and nutritious
to the root

Morning devotions
living water and word
seeps beyond hard mind
into heart opened
moist and nutritious
to the soul

Safe in the Rain

2011-05-15T10:21:00.002-05:00

She came out in the rain this morning, gently, meekly, meandering into the front yard, into my sight through a window where I kneal to pray. Had it been a sunny day I would not have enjoyed this sweet encounter. Hilde, my neighbor's dog would surely have chased her away. But man's best friend had taken shelter from the rain leaving the little deer free to explore the deep lush green of dawn.

So it is with my soul, held in the hand of the Maker, shy as ever, cautious to come out into the open spaces, sometimes tears and melancholy overcast necessary for a safe place to wander and graze.

Her Smile

2011-05-06T00:21:00.006-05:00

In beauty of
wild daisies
there is intimacy,
longing satisfied
for loved one gone,
divine assurance
of soul's wellbeing
her smile
spring flowers
everywhere!

Rider

2011-05-03T09:13:00.004-05:00

That which moves and gives me life
is so near I can't see
but embrace her I will.

No, I won't be the rider
of whom Rumi speaks
galloping all night
and never seeing
the horse that is
beneath me

Going to Our Caves

2011-04-30T12:52:00.002-05:00

Only in recent years have I come to realize the importance (with no shame) of going to my "cave" to gain perspective, reclaim my integrity and return able to speak, act and "have my being" truer to the person I am and the loving life I'm called to live.

The cool part about Whidbey Island these days is that there I am given the opportunity at a critical point in my life to learn how to befriend my aloneness whenever, wherever and however often necessary to daily live out wholeness given me by our maker.

By the way, I don't think men have a corner on caves. That misconception was thrown out ages ago!!!

Our Father

2011-04-18T11:34:00.004-05:00

Beyond words
past noise and glare of
pomp and party
a moment...
when love of father and child
shines through,
time crystallized,
gaze giving way
to a hidden presence
of a deepest
and
most tender knowing

A Beautiful Part of Nature

2011-04-13T10:15:00.002-05:00

On the great impressionist painter Claude Monet's 80th birthday, a photographer from Paris visited him, wanting to take pictures of him. Monet replied coolly, "Come back next spring and take pictures of my flowers in the garden, they look more like me than I do." What a wonderful escape from superego's demands!

Today from Eby's Landing on a cliff above the Sound I will walk Whidbey Island. Though the sky be cloudy and my soul overcast, I will look for spring flowers, seeing myself first as part of nature in a beautiful cycle of life. I will walk and likely weep, and mine will be the gift of wholeness still hidden from my sight.

Brave New World

2011-04-10T11:27:00.003-05:00

Someone has said not being afraid to be yourself is the ultimate definition of bravery. The divine shepherd has given me such courage again today motioning me to rise comfortable and content in my own skin, eyes open to see green pastures even in the desert regions of my life, something alive and good to celebrate about our existence as human beings.

So I'm going to follow the Shepherd's staff on a treasure hunt this Sabbath morning, sure I will discover the goodness that lies within and all around me and certain what I find will encourage and contribute to a brave new world.

Why the Worry?

2011-04-06T11:32:00.005-05:00

Rumi tells of a small green island where a white cow lives in a beautiful lush meadow. Everyday the cow grazes full and fat yet, every night worries for food enough in the 'morrow. So goes the life of this poor cow day and night--fat and lean, fat and lean--prompting one to wonder why all the misery?

White cow, my soul, green island my world of plenty and I am left wondering, "Why the worry for lack of love, what's to come or not to come?"

Kiss of Spring

2011-04-03T22:47:00.006-05:00

A friend sent me a picture of her flowering Shamrock plant. I was so impressed I bought my own pot of bulbs, watered them lightly and set them in the most brightly lit place in my apartment. Later this week someone is coming by to help me plan what to plant outside my front door. Words from Rumi come to mind:

Let the beauty we love be what we do. There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

No Matter What

2011-04-02T19:50:00.010-05:00

What if

all we are

is one

flimsy, cellulose layer

after another,

just juicy lumps

void

of lasting substance?

What if

upon peeling away

our folds of

flesh, mind and spirit

there is

not even a lingering

taste or odor?

What if

in the end

not a tear is shed

as tribute

to the power

of our

essence?

Enough already

with the ifs

Worth is

The Maker's

Word

no matter

what

Garden of Grief

2011-03-21T10:55:00.006-05:00

Spring comes sooner in the Pacific Northwest than in Minnesota where I planted a crab apple tree last year in memory of Denise. Flowers won’t be seen there until May while here on Whidbey Island they are already coming into full bloom.

There’s a wonderful story told in the poem by Antonio Machado, “The Wind, One Brilliant Day”. The wind calls to Machado’s soul with the offer to blow the pleasant aroma of jasmine in return for the odor of his roses. His soul responded, “I have no roses; all the flowers in my garden are dead.” To which the wind says, “Well then, I’ll take the withered petals, the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain.” The wind left and Machado wept saying to himself: “What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you?”

I am in the season of grief between winter and spring. Every day I choose no quick fix nor fast one-fell-swoop switch from loss to new life. No, with smells of death lingering, I deliberately tend to the garden of grief entrusted to me, willing to wait, however long it takes, for new buds and blooms.

Sacred Silence

2011-03-19T08:49:00.005-05:00

Oh Sacred Silence,

be the music I long to hear

the eloquence I seek to speak

a light for simple sight

Gladden my soul's tongue with taste

sweet, fresh and clean

Swirl and soar as

worshipful incense

embracing me forever in

holy arms of love

All We Ordained

2011-03-15T10:33:00.005-05:00

All we

ordained

beams of DNA

shinning

from soul to sun dial,

interrelated packages

of earthened energy

moving, moving

not merely in time

nor deep in soul

but in life-giving

fruit-bearing

divine and human

intercourse

Like sun and rain

on fertile soil

we are

lively interplay

of body, mind and spirit

with pain and pleasure

in the now

and eternal

promise

Ash Wednesday

2011-03-10T10:56:00.004-06:00

No quivering flake
blown down-draft
from the holy blaze,*
the dross I encountered
was a hot spark
on a strong stem
that touched my soul
and turned flames
to dancing

* line borrowed from Luci Shaw's poem "Moses Reclothed"

Paperwhite Flowers

2011-03-08T12:11:00.004-06:00

For a welcome gift to Whidbey Island a friend gave me several Paperwhite Narcissus bulbs to plant and watch grow in my new home. Directions for indoors were simple, plant the bulbs amidst a collection of rocks in a bowl, then keep them moist and out of direct sunlight until they come into bloom.

That these crusty swells resting amidst rock can come into beautiful white bloom with just a little tender loving care and a sprinkle of water speaks volumes to me this morning. There is so much life available right where I am amidst the rock and rubble of building a new home. Wisdom suggests I take time to enjoy this planting stage, open to a new world of books, relationships, community and experiences with nature. There is so much nourishment available and new life ready to bloom!

A voice in Eden still speaks of abundance for us to enjoy. The life-giving question has never been “What can’t I do?” but “What am I blessed to enjoy or experience next?” The Good Shepherd says to his disciples, “For to those who have been given much, more will be given.” How true this is in my experience, borne out when I have accepted the gift and gotten involved in activities and experiences that are truly renewing and bear good fruit.

In the goodness of the “garden” where I now reside even crusty bulbs amidst rock feed my soul and I find myself open to new ways of blooming I might never have considered. Like a hillside of Paperwhite flowers on Whidbey, the wonderful possibilities are endless!

Glow in the Dark

2011-03-07T14:18:00.003-06:00

Called with condolence

no glib promises

but divine presence

a voice offering

if but a trace of grace

to calamity

a sprinkle of hope

in a toxic mix of chemistry,

circumstance and mishap

yet a spark

lighting up a moment

glowing in the dark

In Search of Wholeness

2011-02-12T09:43:00.005-06:00

Not to be the man

who stood up

and walked west

looking for Church

among pine

and mountain peak,

his children saying

sweet things of him

as if he were dead

Nor

do I choose

to remain in

what was home

dying amidst

dishes and fancy furniture

as my children

search far and wide

for the same Church

which I forgot

Based on "Sometimes a Man" by Rainer Maria Rilke