Pilgrim Path

This blog is the work of a seeker and poet. Walking stick in hand, I head out into the world, not of the world, but in the world. My words and my friends carry me along and light the pilgrim path of spiritual journeys.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008


Wind in my face brings solace
to my soul, as I stand
at the portal to a sacred world.
Ready to journey upward
where blood red sunsets
signal the desires
of my heart to fly.

Birds on wing take final spins
before indigo darkness
sets them to rest.
Their soaring flights
ignite my imagination
giving birth to windswept dreams.

A weathervane detects
my heart’s movements
but cannot reveal
the depth of my emotion,
just as a conductor leads
an orchestra, yet he never stirs
our soul like a single,
haunting oboe.

A mapless journey reveals a new path,
so I move where I am led,
trusting my heart to take me
to the place where I can test
my wings against the wind,
always mindful of
the sacred compass.
(poem inspired by photo taken by and used with permission of
Christine Valters Paintner at www.abbeyofthearts.com
- come join the Poetry Party there every other Monday)

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Monday, April 21, 2008


And soon the night of weeping
Shall be the morn of song!
- The Church’s One Foundation (traditional hymn)

The night has come and soon
the darkness will spread her wings
and bring me fearful dreams
of beasts who roam the night.

Despite the full moon’s glow above,
night strips me of my courage
to fully live into my heart,
authentic, strong and true.

I pray that angels softly shut
my eyes and lift me gently
to lands where tears are strangers
and darkness finds no home.

I travel far above the night,
and stretching out, I grasp a star
and placing it securely in my bag
I know that light will travel with me.

Arriving at a seaside scene
my guardians place me ‘neath a tree
to shade me from this bright creation
always and forever green.

My star now shines in bright sunlight
amidst the company of others,
at the edge of land and water,
portal to our pilgrim home.

Where our voices lift in song
celebrating our return
to the shores of contemplation

in the land of truth and beauty.

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Tuesday, April 15, 2008


Here in the land of singers and trumpets,
heralding spring from a black loamy stage,
proud flowers brightly sway as a cool breeze
passes, illuminated from within.

Their long night of darkness fin’lly over,
pushing tender green leaves toward Mother sun,
hiding a deep saffron grace from the world
‘til we’ve humbly earned that gift from heaven.

Bursting open upon a bright random
morning, reminding us all of a joy
we posess, nodding to the immortal
Godseed, illuminated from within.

(poem inspired by photograph taken by and used with permission of
Christine Valters Paintner - www.abbeyofthearts.com)

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Sunday, April 13, 2008


You are in pain......you hurt……you hurt me……that double-edged tongue which you so clumsily wielded…has excised the part of me that cared……past tense…pay attention…..simple words…carelessly spoken…it’s all about you………and now you have time to pretend you have no idea what happened…because……it’s all about you…the only thing you ever shared…was pain.

I was your friend……past tense…pay attention…I cared more about your well being than you did…………doing everything I could to be sure you were not alone…that despite your often foul personality you would still be a part of the whole…did you honestly think that young one cared?

But you hissed and snapped like an angry snake in that sacred dome…whatever humor…you thought…you brought… to the table was covered in bile……that everyone smelled……your dark secret is out…now everyone knows……...present tense…pay attention……and so… at first chance…you escaped…………but light and love …cleaned up the mess…you left behind…and so you’ll move on……like you always do……there’s a sucker born every minute…hope you find him.


Tuesday, April 08, 2008


Apparently someone bound and gagged the poet and stuffed him in the closet as I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in a week. In lieu of a poem, I’ve decided to write about a recent adventure (names have been omitted to protect privacy), so here goes…

A couple of weekends ago, I was on retreat. The theme of the retreat was “Aspects of Love.” There was a nice crowd of folks – maybe 35 or so total. We began the retreat on Friday night by sitting in a very large circle on the floor and introducing ourselves. I knew about 30 folks from prior retreats, so I was feeling pretty comfortable. We were also asked to explain what came to our mind first when someone spoke the word “love.” Now, this is the part of the talking circle I hate the most. You have to figure out what you’re going to say when it’s your turn, while listening to folks’ answers, all the while hoping they aren’t going to “steal” your answer and you’ll have to come up with a new one in even less time than it took you to come up with the one that someone “stole.”

I finally settled on an answer. I wasn’t happy with it, but it was the truth. While everyone else in the circle was talking about love being portrayed by little bluebirds singing as they circled their heads with pretty ribbons, I sat on the floor with my sore butt worried that I would soon be labeled the dark lord of the retreat since my word was “pain.”

The man sitting to my right is one of my best friends. He has seen a LOT of pain in his life yet he manages to be the warmest and most compassionate person I’ve ever known. He is my friend, and yet I couldn’t bear to hear what he had to say. All I know is that when he was done, I didn’t hear the word “pain” which made my word of choice “golden.”

My turn: I can’t look anyone in the eye. I hear a voice speaking, and despite my being a bit hard of hearing, I can tell that the voice is coming from my mouth. The words sound a lot like those of the adults in those Charlie Brown TV specials – “wahwah wah wah wahwahwah…” The noise ends and I look to my left. The man who is sitting there is now speaking. I guess I did okay as folks aren’t running screaming from the room for fear that I’ll soon be asking them to drink some grape Kool-Aid.

Fast forward to Saturday morning: One of the staff members for this retreat is a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW). I know her. She is very sweet, very smart and very easy to talk to. Part of me wants to have a conversation with her about my choice of the word “pain” to describe love, but part of me doesn’t want to go any deeper, and so I sit, and my butt gets sore again.

Before the LCSW begins her presentation on self-compassion, we are asked to complete a self-evaluation quiz. Some of the questions seem repetitive. The second time around, I have to stop and think more deeply about my answers. Then I begin thinking more deeply about the other questions. Before I know it, I am deep in the throes of understanding that my “pain” need not be assuaged by other people, but that I have the tools to repair my “pain” through self-compassion.

The LCSW begins her discussion of self-compassion as an “Aspect of Love.” I’m sure she is wondering what is going on with me as I am sitting on the floor nodding my head at every word she says as if I was one of those bobble-head dolls. It may only be Saturday morning, but I have already gleaned my take-away from this retreat.

However, contrary to my smug conclusion, I would soon learn that only half a lesson had been learned. It would still take a heroic effort on my part to make this lesson a part of my life – a part of who I am, from this point forward.

The balance of the retreat was filled with a wide variety of creative and beneficial experiential exercises that allowed me to incorporate my recent lesson learned. But, it was an off-the-cuff cutting remark directed at me by one of the other retreatants that gave me my first true test. No purpose would be served by detailing the event, but suffice it to say that self-compassion became an “Aspect of Love” lesson put to good use and well-learned.

And so it is 2 weeks post-retreat. I’m still me, but I’m a calmer me. (My personal acquaintances should stop laughing here.) Because of this retreat and because of my willingness to listen to words about self-compassion, I’ve come to realize that while I cannot prevent it, I possess the power to heal my “pain.”


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