Thursday, September 01, 2005

Never alone

Shiloh's post sent me scrurrying to find this,
exanding on the journey into community.

faucon.
..............................................................

SOFT RAIN

Dear Brian,
It is raining out, so I decided to stay inside and catch up on a few things. At first I was dismayed at this un-predicted detraction from my Palm-Pilot entrusted plan, but, in truth, there is nothing of great import that must be done just now. A new log is on the fire and I have dragged out that old sweater, with fraying cuff, that can no longer be exposed in public. You know, the one that Mother found at the church bazaar. I even made a cup of tea and was pleased to discover that Anne had not thrown out my older, wrinkled bag. Remember when Grandma instructed that each cup be made from one old and one new one, even of a different blend? A 'depression' holdover certainly, but this process forms an endless chain of herbs, pure water and a blessing of time and respect. An infusion, they say - ah yes - my spirit is lifting already!

Pure water, there is a thought. The rain now pounding against my window is claimed pure as in "pure driven snow," but does not each drop contain a speck of dust? Not the dust of creation or cycled death renewed, but possible dreadful things that can eat away both flesh and soul. Is this not also true of thoughts and ideas? Simple drops of wisdom do not come in tiny packages to be explored in rainbowed, faceted splendor; but instead in a torrent of confusion. So instead of savoring, we curse the deluge and raise a protecting shield to ensure that our fine woven suit of practiced fear and binding agendas of false pursuit is not dampened. Then we curse the new technology of ingenious folding of ribs and oil depleting fabric that binds and locks and collapses, as all such things will do. So we go than to an outside professional to put the garment back in shape. A dry-cleaner? Or psychologist perhaps? Well, I digress.

I meant to talk to you about our church Community and the special sharing we feel as we draw close with those of like mind and spirit. The whole truly surpasses what we can do alone and we are now seeking ways to embrace those whose ministry calls them away from regular participation. But this patter on the tiled roof is washing over me and I would give some pause to this impassioned work. We often speak of community in a word limiting way that excludes rather than enfolds. It becomes an enclave that fences out rather than protect that which is valued within. As the rain of cycled life washes over us, and through us, carrying away the effluvia of discarded cells and outgrown thoughts and values, they form a stream of churning and tumbling power. This often misdirected force can change the course of other's lives and distort nature and displace the peace and serenity of dreams. Where these steams happen to meet in confluence of will and seeming common direction, it is our human want to construct a village, a community if you will, for the purpose of attracting those of like mind and spirit. This community's growth is rarely based on the shared good will and common needs of those within, but attempts to mirror constructs of other fetid places where true community is a joke.

Oh, but that we could just embrace the gentle, soft caressing rain, no matter how hard it seems to beat upon the shingles o'r our throbbing breasts. The only Community is us, you and me stretched the world across, bound by the pulsing of the morning dew. I am told that the amount of rain that falls each day upon our Mother Earth is constant - desert here and torrent there, but mostly distressing drizzle. Yet I also know that aborigines will race to join beneath a rain cloud for days' long loping in a special claim on heaven's simple gift. It is not seemly in our 'modern' culture to dance nude in the glory of the rain. But perhaps we can find the courage to let our deep hidden thoughts dance in the puddles of fellowship that community spirit can form. Some thoughts may evaporate when exposed to the light of day. Others may freeze into silent pools to be looked at a better time. Others may sink deeply in to earth and consciousness to be filtered by experience and contemplation.

Yes, the answer is in community and I will reach out, but my arm is short and my grasp not very secure. Besides, I don't see very clearly yet. The rain keeps getting in my eyes.

Ken

2 Comments:

At 11:06 AM, Blogger Shiloh said...

Well, believe it or not, there are others with sure grasps reaching out to you and will help pull you and guide you to a more firm foundation. It may not feel like it at times, but they are there, offering comfort, support, friendship and encouragement.

 
At 5:27 PM, Blogger faucon of Sakin'el said...

Aye, I wrote this before finding Em

 

Post a Comment

<< Home