Soul Mates and Soaring Spirits

 I have so missed the soul mates from my youth;
As I grew in years, I didn't grow in truth.
The Spirit that spoke to me when I was a child,
Was, sadly, hidden from me for too long a while.
I am walking back into the faith of my childhood,
Though the religion of my mother is  lost to me for good.

The insistence on dogma instead of Divinity
Simply didn't seem right, just, and true to me.
Those who have loved me since I began my journey Home,
Honoring The Spirit in me that they have known,
Have never faltered in their prayers that I would find
An eternal peace in my body, soul, and mind.

I know it's painful to many that I walk a different path,
And for this reason, some relationships didn't last.
Even as I walked a path of terrible immorality,
My soul mates shared their Spirit lights to be a guide to me.
Like Tinker Bell in Peter Pan whose life spark almost died,
The love of my soul mates has kept my Holy Spirit alive.

Some have been women, and my and their husbands;
Some of them have been my children who are also friends.
The love of my children did most to heal me;
The souls of our children are never from ours fully free.
I sing a song of gratitude and and lift my voice in awe;
I'm finally feeling the redemption their Holy Spirits foresaw.

Praying For My Peace

I was taught to examine, at the end every day,
The hurtful and sinful things I think, do, and say.
Is it simply selfish to insist on making amends,
As I've been told by several of my friends?

Every day is exciting, if we simply set our minds to delight,
But we can feel and think so much  that we can't sleep at night.
This is how I feel after talking with my daughter or son,
And before and after spending time with people who are fun.

Part of the problem is I'm afraid that I may do something wrong
Even though I try to share only the singing of joyful songs.
Sometimes grief and anger simply pop out of my mouth,
Even knowing this is not what my people want to talk about.

It seems to me that wrongs that aren't addressed
Go on to create, in other relationships, a mess.
Why is it so scary to say, "I was wrong,"
Even where love has been very strong?

Some say Jesus took away all blame;
That all we need do is believe in his name.
I believe he gave us a prescription and examples
Of seeking peace that are are ample.

How have the religious ones gotten to this place
Where the joy of human forgiveness has lost its place?
There seems to be such a fear of punishment
That we are unable to truly repent.

What am I to do with all of the guilt
On which my religious life was built,
If I can't share my true remorse
And take the hurts back to their source?

I'd like to lay my head down every night in gratitude
That the evil I've wrought has been turned back to good.
I believe I'm commanded to approach those angry with me
And plead to be, from my guilt, set free.

I don't think that I can be right with my God
Unless I'm right with those on whose feelings I've trod.
"Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray that I'll find the peace I seek."

Ecstatic Expression and Ecclesiastical Executions

Why are we so afraid of ecstatic expression, even that coming from our own children? Is it because we are consumed with jealousy and fear that there's not enough to go around? And how many of us are actually willing to immerse ourselves in the deepest pain of those we love as they walk through or writhe in their anguish?

The hardest thing I have ever done is holding the hands of those who thought or knew that they were dying. The difficulty in some cases was that the dying person was not the one in anguish; it was my soul that was consumed with grief for which I had no outlet. Giving our lives for others means walking with them in feelings. Death seems easy to me, in comparison to this.

"(The Indian -- not the same as The Shakers) Shakers believe that the experience of the Gospel does not require a book, but rather is encoded in the mind and soul in accordance with the will of God."

"Practices reflecting Catholic influence include the use of hand-held candles, the ringing of individual hand bells (to a very loud volume), and the sign of the cross (usually repeated three times). Protestant influence is shown in public testifying and confession of shortcomings. Native elements include brushing or stroking to remove evil influence, counter-clockwise movement of service participants around the room (often with loud stomping), and spontaneous reception of songs from the spirit. Church members are expected to refrain from using alcohol and tobacco. Carefulness, kindness, and supplication to God for help are emphasized." - excerpts from Wikipedia on the Indian Shaker Church

Some of this should sound familiar to today's Christians in Pentecostal communities, and yet this religion too was persecuted: "The new religion encountered much opposition and hostility from Euro-Americans. As had happened with the Ghost Dance, there was much misunderstanding and Anglos feared an Indian uprising. For a time, all Indian religious practices were banned by law and the Indian Shakers were included. Many members were imprisoned and chained for their practices. Powell et al. (1976) show two notices posted by the US Indian Service at Quileute Reservation:

'Notice to the Shakers: You are hereby permitted to hold meetings... under the following conditions: on Sundays not longer than three (3) hours at one time and on Wednesdays not longer than two (2) hours at one time. The following REGULATIONS to be observed: 1st, Keep windows or a door open during all meetings. 2nd, Use only one bell to give signals. Not continuous ringing. 3rd, Do not admit school children at night meetings.

It has been reported... that there are some women who are violating the Rules... and that they shake at all hours of the day and night. You will therefore tell the women quietly to stop shaking at any other times than the times specified in the rules... If they do not stop,... you will lock them up until they agree to stop. Shaking of the sick must not be allowed... We do not want any trouble in this matter if it is possible to avoid it; but that 'continual and private shaking' must be stopped.' " - excerpts from Wikipedia on the Indian Shaker Church

One definition for religion is "Belief in and reverence for a supernatural power or powers regarded as creator and governor of the universe." Rules and strictly enforced interpretations of others' revelations are not the basis for my religion; shared joy, peace, and harmony are. The only supernatural power that I will seek is the power of positive energy radiating in those who have The Ways and Words of The Almighty encoded in their minds and souls.

Look into the eyes of a person who is also looking into your eyes, and you will see what is written on each others' souls. Fear, anger, drugs, alcohol, and greed all overshadow and can actually deaden the positive power. This deadening we can also see in each others' eyes, if we take the time to look.

When we impose our moral standards with fear instead of with bonding and walking with others in their peaks of delight and their valleys of darkness, we create collective rituals, but that's not the same as compassionate communion. Please don't pray for me as I suffer; hold my hand and walk with me a while. And when I'm about to shake apart in joy, wrap me in your arms and absorb some of the ecstasy from my soul.

Sing Out Our Spirits, Oh My Sisters!

How desperately my friends reach out to me,
Wanting to save my soul, which is already free.
It is such a source of sadness to them and to me
That we, on our faith, cannot agree.

My friends are bound by the words of men,
As if women's voices aren't part of salvation.
They defer only to the words that men intended
When the editors of the bible, women's words amended.

We seem to have the collective souls of slaves,
Who have been taught that their spirits are depraved.
And as the slaves hid behind their master's names,
We are afraid to our own enlightenment claim.

We have birthed new creation, fought the good fight
With love and compassion, and with earthly might.
We have been given long lives; after our work is done
We have the time to share our Spirits of Wisdom.

My God is mother, father, brother, sister, and friend;
My God is creation's beginning, middle, and end.
My God is the power to seek the best in all
And to begin again with new life whenever I fall.

So I'll sing my soul to all who will hear,
Those far away and those who are near.
I've thrown off the shackles of my mothers' shame;
Abraham, Moses, and Jesus are my brothers' names.

I believe they all have gone back to oneness with God;
They were true to their mission, as on earth they trod.
Just as we all will become one with the source,
If we are true to our Spirits and stay our course.

We have born the blame of the fall of man,
But we are equals in The Spirit's plan.
It is time that we sing out our Spirits
So that all creation can clearly hear it.

Faith and Fear

I have come back from a singular mountain retreat;
Observing partners in parenting was a welcome treat.
It is a joy when I am able to observe the modern family,
Who, from gender roles, seem to be blessedly free.

I'm tired of our world being controlled by fear
Of what others, in their faith, hold most dear.
No one person or group has a God-given monopoly
On defining where each of us, Divine Grace, will see.

Can we simply agree that over the course of history
The face of The Almighty has been seen differently?
And when men are made in God's image
They are not given the right to others' faith judge.

When The Word is made flesh in the form of a man,
His flesh is taken from the body of woman.
It should be obvious by this time in history
That The Divine is not limited to man or woman only.

We have Divinity in us, but that doesn't mean
That when we look at man, it's Gods we are seeing.
We choose to believe that God appeared as flames,
But won't give anything feminine a Divine name.

Every one of us has male and female traits,
And all of us should seek balance in our mates.
This can't happen until we agree that The Divine
Is a part of every member of humankind.

Purposeful Puttering

There are so many pleasures to puttering without deadlines.
It is quite amazing the projects a relaxed mind can find.
Richard and Monte spreading gravel, to even out the road,
And shoring up our creek's bridge, with Kenneth on a backhoe.
I stayed inside to clean and make a pot of broccoli soup,
Also, to go through old photos and other long-stashed loot.
Somebody must make decisions what to take and what to bring
I'd rather make decisions than to brave winter's cold sting.

We're expecting Josie and Adam to eat leftovers with us.
I want Josie's artist's opinion, so over decor I made a fuss.
It has been nice feeling like a country couple again,
With the activity and camaraderie of neighborhood women and men.
Coker Creek is a place with a strong sense of community;
It's nice the folks continue to welcome Richard and me.
But today we load out and finish our preparations
For Richard to return to his Higgins Boat building station.

Do We Despise Devoted Lives?

I was brought up as a poor child, from a big family, in a big city,
Where we were taught that the way to prosper was to depend on others' pity.
My many bayou relatives were much like these rural mountain folks;
I didn't share in their hard work, but I entertained them with my jokes.
How many of us could live like Jack, in perfect humility,
Going about doing what he believes in, for all the community to see?
And what about Mountain Mama who resists much outside pressure
To place, in another's care, her daughter, the child she's always treasured?

Neither of these folks is expecting any of society's accolades
For the beds that they've made for themselves, and on which their lives are laid.
They do what they do because this is what they believe is right and just;
Jack is still somewhat embarrassed when others, over him, make a fuss.
Mountain Mama offers employment to those who come to her for help in their need;
She doesn't believe in supporting laziness or in living a life of greed.
Both of them mind their own business rather than seeking out others to assist,
But if they weren't here with their stalwart examples, they would sorely be missed.

Mountain Mama has accumulated much in her many years on this earth;
She still celebrates that her children are caring people, not afraid of work.
Jack shows us by his way of life how very little we need to survive;
In his small cabin with no electricity, he not only survives, he thrives.
I saw him on a cold, rainy day when his wood stove was warming his home;
His kettle on the top is his humidifier, and he made a double boiler in the dome.
How many of us think about the many ways we can put a tool to use?
We load our lives with every advertised gadget; there's no comfort we refuse.

I don't mean to paint a picture that I think either of these friends is perfect,
But I am humbled in their presence by how hard they both are willing to work.
Many people don't understand their choices, and instead of appreciating them,
Look upon their unwillingness to conform as a form of prideful sin.
Isn't this the way of most of us in this world of followers and loud-mouth leaders?
We don't really want to see as good the ways of the quietly confident believers?
We begin to poke fun at them and spread about them vicious lies,
As we watch them then look inside ourselves and find things we despise.