Steve, this poem and your silent retreat draws me in. Your book Solo did the same. March 1st, I truly retire (truly retire means I am not going to let anything or anyone talk me back into the educational arena 😄) I have felt my soul needing this decluttering of my mind and especially doing this only with “me.” Your writings are so encouraging. Thank you
“I cannot find the words. I cannot find the ladle to bring anything up…Too much packed in too tightly.” It’s loud inside me too but all such a jumble it doesn’t make much sense. I feel like very “dry bones”. I like your poem. I am not there yet.Not ready for dipping out. Don’t really know how.
Thank you for sharing your heart with us, Steve! It brings me great joy to hear the ways in which God was with you at the hermitages, the way the Spirit spoke to you through the stars...what a gift...
The lines that struck me were, "A yearning for love—for presence" and "Now, in this dark, I can see." As I've shared with you, I still cannot shake O'Donohue's prophetic words, referring to moderns as "harvesters of absence...that is, ghosts in our own lives..." I see silence and solitude, or "darkness" infused with the light of true presence with self and God, as the antidote. Our longing for presence is our longing for love, for divine with-ness, and in the stillness we are often given a taste of the love we were made for...Thank you for this soul-stirring and beautiful poem!
Goodness… “harvesters of absence” that’s it precisely. Thank you… your insight.. our longing for presence is our longing for love… I think you and Henri are tight friends these days! 😎
Steve, your words, your essays, your poems, they are part of what helps me to SEE when I am in dark moments in this world! Thank you for sharing your thoughts from your heart in EVERY post!😊
The dark takes away distractions and gives me a chance to "pay attention" to what God is showing/telling me. I love the night sky -- I spent many a night as a teenager girl staring at the sky especially when there was a moon. Such peace.
I like the "dipper" as it reminds me of my grandparent's farm where there was a bucket & dipper to drop down into a well of drinking water -- it came up cool and so good. Again peace.
I made substitutions in my mind as I read your poem -- no dredging -- just peace.
“Now, in this dark, I can see. Night time stars show a faint way.” Since God created both night and day, there is indeed a need for the darkness and a kairos time intended for the dark. Both to rest, in every sense, and to see, in every sense. Stars are like tiny glimmers of what’s to come of greater illumination, as it does indeed happen daybreak after daybreak. I don’t have to fear the darkness. I can welcome it.
The choice of the words "clear broth of goodness" were important to me. There was a synchronicity with one of my "words for the year" which was "clarity." And my phrase for the year which was "Receive the goodness." They are both contained in that line. Broth sustains, nurtures, heals. It is what we take when we are "off" in some way. It warms, soothes, restores. ("He restores my soul" reminds the psalmist.) I was also struck by "I cannot find the ladle to bring anything up." Yes, that dryness, that coming to the end of our own ability to make something - anything - happen. Then, and maybe only then, the grace that comes, born of our heart's yearning. Thank you, dear Steve.
I loved your observation of "alone" being an integrated word of "all one." And the last line of your poem, "The sweet, clear broth of goodness." We think a rich dessert or meat is special food. But thinking of sweet clear broth is simple, surprisingly flavorful, and satisfying. That is soul food.
Steve, this poem and your silent retreat draws me in. Your book Solo did the same. March 1st, I truly retire (truly retire means I am not going to let anything or anyone talk me back into the educational arena 😄) I have felt my soul needing this decluttering of my mind and especially doing this only with “me.” Your writings are so encouraging. Thank you
You’ll need to review all my posts about building my off ramp! You’re going to need a whole lot freeway!
I love the image of the Little Dipper ladle scooping out the excess clutter inside to make room for the sweet clear broth of goodness.
My desire is to learn to sit in the silence long enough to hear God’s voice and know His presence.
Sally, I do think it’ll all begins with desire. That took me a long long time to understand. I’m glad for you!
"A yearning for love.....for presence". emphasis on "yearning"......like an ache....and a cry......
“I cannot find the words. I cannot find the ladle to bring anything up…Too much packed in too tightly.” It’s loud inside me too but all such a jumble it doesn’t make much sense. I feel like very “dry bones”. I like your poem. I am not there yet.Not ready for dipping out. Don’t really know how.
Thank you for sharing your heart with us, Steve! It brings me great joy to hear the ways in which God was with you at the hermitages, the way the Spirit spoke to you through the stars...what a gift...
The lines that struck me were, "A yearning for love—for presence" and "Now, in this dark, I can see." As I've shared with you, I still cannot shake O'Donohue's prophetic words, referring to moderns as "harvesters of absence...that is, ghosts in our own lives..." I see silence and solitude, or "darkness" infused with the light of true presence with self and God, as the antidote. Our longing for presence is our longing for love, for divine with-ness, and in the stillness we are often given a taste of the love we were made for...Thank you for this soul-stirring and beautiful poem!
Goodness… “harvesters of absence” that’s it precisely. Thank you… your insight.. our longing for presence is our longing for love… I think you and Henri are tight friends these days! 😎
Clutter, stuff, accumulation. To much packed it to tightly. Yes, so hard to be still and know -- be.
A very thought provoking poem and article. Especially-- when there is too much chronos time, there is too little kairos.
This encorage me, at the end of the day, be still with God
I’m so glad you caught that line about too much chronos time. Learning how to sit by the river if no agenda… right?
Sitting by the River big time since leaving hospital. God has spared me and given me the gift of time -- Karios time.
“Now in this dark I can see”
Steve, your words, your essays, your poems, they are part of what helps me to SEE when I am in dark moments in this world! Thank you for sharing your thoughts from your heart in EVERY post!😊
Those who see n darkness see each other!
"Now, in this dark, I can see."
The dark takes away distractions and gives me a chance to "pay attention" to what God is showing/telling me. I love the night sky -- I spent many a night as a teenager girl staring at the sky especially when there was a moon. Such peace.
I like the "dipper" as it reminds me of my grandparent's farm where there was a bucket & dipper to drop down into a well of drinking water -- it came up cool and so good. Again peace.
I made substitutions in my mind as I read your poem -- no dredging -- just peace.
Thank you.
Your substitutions make me curious. What an amazing dipper story you have. I see it as if I’m seeing a movie. Thank you!
Thank you -- you brought tears to my eyes!
“Now, in this dark, I can see. Night time stars show a faint way.” Since God created both night and day, there is indeed a need for the darkness and a kairos time intended for the dark. Both to rest, in every sense, and to see, in every sense. Stars are like tiny glimmers of what’s to come of greater illumination, as it does indeed happen daybreak after daybreak. I don’t have to fear the darkness. I can welcome it.
So good and so very true. How is it that many of us were taught to fear the dark or were inherently fearful. You’ve XPress Ed it so well! Thank you!
The choice of the words "clear broth of goodness" were important to me. There was a synchronicity with one of my "words for the year" which was "clarity." And my phrase for the year which was "Receive the goodness." They are both contained in that line. Broth sustains, nurtures, heals. It is what we take when we are "off" in some way. It warms, soothes, restores. ("He restores my soul" reminds the psalmist.) I was also struck by "I cannot find the ladle to bring anything up." Yes, that dryness, that coming to the end of our own ability to make something - anything - happen. Then, and maybe only then, the grace that comes, born of our heart's yearning. Thank you, dear Steve.
If you would move to Brevard, then we could read poems and find clarity and have heaven on earth. Till then, this will do! Cheers!
I cannot find the words.
Except...I wish we lived closer to each other again.
We will one day…
I loved your observation of "alone" being an integrated word of "all one." And the last line of your poem, "The sweet, clear broth of goodness." We think a rich dessert or meat is special food. But thinking of sweet clear broth is simple, surprisingly flavorful, and satisfying. That is soul food.
Your good observation helps me. Thank you!
I love this!