Pocket Bible

“The Bible is the beginning, the source. But every beginning is also in us, thus you carry in yourself your own Bible, your own Book of Koheleth [Ecclesiastes], and your own Apocalypse.”
Anna Kamienska in Astonishments

What a fortunate frame of reference
with its beginning, middle and end

from creation through growth
and years of work until the last day

a day of revelation of what it all meant––
the purpose in living and now in dying

unless some unforeseen event
has cut the ribbon of life short

as with Thomas Merton shorting out
in an electrical moment. Snap!

But no, let’s go for the fan unplugged
for the lights turned safely on

when we see clearly that we were
called, and to what and why and

how to fill the remaining pages of your
life’s book with text and illustration

of what you have seen and what you
have tasted. Tell it all. Share the wealth

waiting to be written and drawn.

Ready, set, ––!

Be gentle. Be slow
until the moment comes
when all is fast, and so will you be
fast, fasted as you are from all detritus
that had clung like barnacles to your psyche
and held you apart from all you would do
and be. Now is the hour to act. Scraped
clean you are able beyond your knowing
to fulfill in the simplest and most satisfying
ways the call on the rest of your life

Commit. Commit. ________.

… the moment one definitely commits
oneself, then Providence moves too.
                                        W.H. Murray
The Scottish Himalayan Expedition

 

To walk from periphery to center is the longest walk
one makes in a given life. No matter when
it happens––at 3, 15, or 73––no matter, only
that it happens, lands you at the creating center
committed to fulfill the work of your life,
most immediately, the work of the day.

Who’s to say but you what the work is
discerned in silence and fed by a hundred moments
of deep joy. Go ahead. Take the walk of commitment
from periphery to center. I double-dare you
to fall down and kiss the ground that is creation
of which you are a part, so help you God.

Ready to Write?

On the slant of the schoolmaster desk
rest your cheek on the white paper.
Close to the wood, listen for the song

of the ax, for the drop of the blade,
for the lightning that rives the apple
tree with promise of spring and new

growth. The pain of riving done,
become yourself.