Closed for repairs (as is my facebook)

sometimes it is just necessary to step away from the computer for period of time, this is that time for me. i will still be making and writing (just privately so).
-Kathy

it is not my harvest; it is i who am harvested

how do i un-domesticate God
for he is feral not to be pinned
by my imaginings
harvested for my purpose

i smell the stars
taste the rumble of the sea
remember the perfect softness
of my god-daughter's beautiful
demands to be held
and i just know
with every breath
he is a wild God
infinitely
extravagant

This reflection is taken from Henri J.M. Nouwen's Bread for the Journey.

"Returning to God's Ever-Present Love

We often confuse unconditional love with unconditional approval. God loves us without conditions but does not approve of every human behavior. God doesn't approve of betrayal, violence, hatred, suspicion, and all other expressions of evil, because they all contradict the love God wants to instill in the human heart. Evil is the absence of God's love. Evil does not belong to God.

God's unconditional love means that God continues to love us even when we say or think evil things. God continues to wait for us as a loving parent waits for the return of a lost child. It is important for us to hold on to the truth that God never gives up loving us even when God is saddened by what we do. That truth will help us to return to God's ever-present love."

now i stand in the etchings

like the seasonal rains
the rivulets of salt
run.
dry.
they etch me deeply

ah there is depth

i was so afraid
there wouldn't be
now i stand
in the depth of these etchings

pass through me

unknown to me for quite sometime, my feelings, my emotions, have been begging to be, to be felt, to be allowed, to be just what they are. i have denied this. i have been angry and tried not to be, i have been sad and tried not to be, i have been afraid and tried not to be, i have been happy and tried not to be, all this type of not being has to stop for it is not being at all. I have suppress, denied, pushed out sideways the good and bad of walking in my being. Now i go up and down with it as i float on my surface waiting for the storm to settle to a more tolerable roll, a more gentle up and down of this being. I am ok with the large swells and troughs but i need them, want them, to have a softer roll not the hardness of the choppy crush, just a nice slow rolling that allows me to see a bit further and breathe a little easier. i still wont be able to see over the next crest, but slower would just feel more sane.

this up and down of joy and grief is tolerable but when fear comes in i become paralyzed. paralysis just doesn't get me anywhere. But fear, like anger, like joy will serve me best if i let its swell gently roll through me, over me, in me. it is when i am to afraid of the roll that i grab it, try to control it, manage it, stand up in it, that it doesn't pass, it doesn't roll on when i hold it. instead it knocks me to the ground as i wrestle for dominion over it. i sink with its weight.

now i try to open my hand, extend my arms and feet and let it roll under, over, through. this is what i hope to practice, letting things slide through, experiencing them but not wrestling them, controlling them. this is true even of joy. it passes. as it passes through me i want to feel its roll, to taste it on my skin as it swirls about me, in me. to simply learn how to feel them as they are, allowing them to be, allowing me to be

i fall

my path lies
before me behind me
i move along it
but how

i must fall
without falling
i do not move

with each falling
there is a rhythm
of catching of rising
then i begin again
i fall i catch i rise
with each i move

the falling is terrifying
yet this is how i move
this is how i walk

this is how we all walk
it is the nature of walking

shut up

i write because i love
when i shut up love
the door bangs closed
i pound and scrape
my fingers
bloody with prying
but without love
without hope
tightly shut it remains
the smell of the void
the vacancy

the remotest parting
and i find
my lips part as they
press to the frame
to drink in the waft
that trickles through
i scribble down
as fast as can
the words that
spill over
and i reach
for the handle

looky what showed up in a friends inbox

i didn't even know, but it sure made me smile.
artslant worldwide
click and then scroll to tire tube images :-)

I am not a plumber.

But today I am!


Well i guess NOT since i removed the parts to put on new ones and the pipe coming out of the wall is actually broken. BOX THAT!

I awaken.

i have been invited to be party to my own life, to step into the light, fully awake and engage. i can just taste the sun dappling through the shadows of the trees upon my lips as it slowly dries the salt streams

to choose presence, i explore ways in which i have denied joy, denied being party to my own life, denied being kathy, denied presence. it is as though a gentle hand prods and rocks me in a good way

kathryn
it is time
it is time
to wake up
to come
fully outside
into the sun
and dance

in solitude, in quiet, i hear this still quiet voice which calls me by name, calls me "my beloved" and i know that i must make my way into the presence of wakefulness, engagement, light and life.

i stir.