a summer - a poem

there is now no summer
like the ones spent in the apple orchard
of the neighbor's yard, plucking fruit
from the succulent trees and vines
running through the greenery and brush
eating blueberries and wild strawberries
our clothing torn by the brambles
skin opened under scrapes and cuts
blood seeping like sweet water through the knees

...
and later in the fire-flied night, staring
at Orion, wandering to the Northern Star
finding the big dipper and beholding the milky way
it all revolving about some invisible axis
there before our eyes
...

and the taste of honeysuckle and persimmon
the sugar sweet and sour pucker of the wild fruit
taken too early, forever etched in the mind
...

there is now no summer
as the winter approaches no matter the season
with only the brisk fall at best, blasts of hope and promise
only keeping the body moving forward
where there once was technicolor, now only grayscale exists
with small glimpses of color
seeping through the edges...

rags - an original poem

if you were to ask for riches,
I would give you my rags,
that you would have the gift
that was given to me long ago

in the sackcloth of my heart
i was given ashes and grey
for to grieve in this world
is the only kindly response

that a bluejay lights on a limb
only to devour the worm
and a bee lights on the flower
to steal it's very life, the amber

is the law we have been given
and only those who deny this
truly come to deep sadness
and go beyond the mild melancholy


for just as the strawberry winter
robs Spring of it's coming
and the Summer still can rage in October
so in the deepest joy is there a hint of sadness
and in the darkest night, the hint of morning...

Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life by Richard Rohr

Mr. Rohr does us all a service with this gem by applying Jungian thought and Joseph Campbell mythology to spirituality. By doing so, he has tapped into a deeper strata of the religious life and requested we all take the Hero's Quest with him.

Beginning with the plight of Odysseus, (love the homeric reference material) Rohr highlights that the quest will be fraught with danger and temptation and will always be an invitation to go even further than what the initial task requires. Home is where the heart is, but alas, in this earthly sphere, we may never arrive!

'The Two Halves' refers to Jung's program of life, where in the first half, we build the Ego and secure a 'living'. There is more, however to this story, and oftentimes the unconscious pushes us into terra incognito...thrusts us into an initiation of maturity, that if heeded, brings a fuller, richer energy to the the Self, or the totality of the conscious Ego and unconscious Archetypes. And this journey, the journey of the Self is nothing, if not Archetypal and transpersonal.

Drawing from the great world Traditions, (not Christianity alone), Mr. Rohr effectively poses many prescient questions and even offers answers to boot.

Saint Francis (Christian Encounters Series) by Robert West

Archetypal Journey of a Saint - or A Story of Repentance Par Excellence!

St. Paul, on the road to Damascus, and having persecuted the new sect of Christians, was struck by a blinding Light and called to a new Life. Our Hero in this story, St. Francis of Assisi, on the road to Pelugia from Assisi to make war with the nobility and as a member of the mercantile class, was halted by a still quiet Voice.

I'm beginning to see a pattern here, methinks!

Radically different in their missions, the one to preach to the Gentiles, our Hero to eventually preach to the birds and minister to the poor, both seem to strike uncanny resemblances with one another in that they are leading a life, however unconsciously, that will take a radical shift in focus after a Salvific experience.

St. Francis, the author makes no bones about it, was quite the party boy. As the head dissolute youth of a band of epicurean to say the least, if not all out debauched crowd called the Sons of Babylon, and son of a wealthy fine cloth merchant, leads a proverbial life of the party existence. As the bankroller for one drinking party after another, he gains fame as a rounder and makes a name for himself among the hangers on who surround him.

With dreams of becoming a Knight that the troubadours sang of, St. Francis is taken captive and held in prison for a little over a year and of course falls ill as a result. In his dark hour, he is known to sing and make light of the situation, seeing beyond the bounds of an early medieval thirteenth century prison camp.

Upon being ransomed by his father, although he returns to the wild life of his youth for a few stints, St. Francis soon trades his chivalric cloaks and ornaments for the clothing of a beggar. Having dreamed he was in a palace and wed to a beautiful bride, our hero works out the betrothed is Poverty herself and soon finds himself making a pilgrimage to Rome in the garb of an impoverished monk.

I will leave off here, as the rest of the story is most widely known and appreciated by folks of many different faiths.

Wonderful portrait of a man who's destiny was to become a Saint.