I Yield

Surrendering to the Vastness of the Creator

My son sent me this amazing picture of him standing on boulders by the shore of the Tasman Sea off the coast of Tasmania where he is right now. As I look at this picture, it shows exactly how I am feeling right now.

Our coracle (read below for explanation), has left port and we are now on a five day voyage with no land in sight. Our modern ship has now turned north to travel back into the Northern hemisphere, and we are sailing up but we are also sailing losing touch with land but gaining perspective on just how vast the ocean world is.

There is something about sea days that stretches the mind and soothes the soul.

I am not the first to try to comprehend the vastness you feel when you see no land in sight or try to understand the power in the water.

It was Job, in his book of wisdom, that contains his own musings. Read what he said:

Where were you when I created the earth?
    Tell me, since you know so much!
Who decided on its size? Certainly you’ll know that!
    Who came up with the blueprints and measurements?
How was its foundation poured,
    and who set the cornerstone,
While the morning stars sang in chorus
    and all the angels shouted praise?
And who took charge of the ocean
    when it gushed forth like a baby from the womb?
That was me! I wrapped it in soft clouds,
    and tucked it in safely at night.
Then I made a playpen for it,
    a strong playpen so it couldn’t run loose,
And said, ‘Stay here, this is your place.
    Your wild tantrums are confined to this place.’  (Job 38, the Message)

On this pilgrimage down under, my heart has been stretched beyond recognition by this big, old word.

I took these stirrings along with the picture of my son and put words to a new poem which you can read below. When I write a poem these days, I wait until I am struck with a thought. I sit with that thought giving it space for incubation and growth; depth and maturity. This particular poem holds so much of how I am feeling these days of traveling on my 21st century coracle. If that’s a new word for you— “coracle”—it may be helpful to remember the roots of this term.

St. Columba in the 4th century placed himself on a small coracle, a woven basket approximately, 8ft by 8ft—a circle actually and pushed himself off the coast of Ireland telling God—take me where you will.

Centuries later, I am doing the same. Although this is a larger and much more modern coracle. I am on the same adventure as Columba and other pilgrims of old.

I am adventuring out to adventure within.

All these references, I use in my poem titled, “I Yield.” I love the title of this poem. Yielding is really the message the Creator was trying to teach Job when he wrote his long and wise book of Wisdom for us.

Every blessings dear friends! Welcome to the new subscribers. I’m so glad you found me here on Substack. Thank you so much to all those who allow me to stand on your shoulders to take this pilgrimage with Gwen. Every day, we say how grateful we are at this stage of our lives to be on this pilgrimage—to have our health—to be held by our faith—to be stretched and to learn.

Stephen

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