Profound Silence

As is often the case, my mind wanders to things profound and spiritual.Somehow the subject of this poem that I wrote 8 years ago remains current in my mind. Just when I think I'm clear what I think about silence, another thought winkles its head out of the soil of my mind.(How's that for a metaphor!) I've come to know that this a a good thing. All that remains is for me to nurture this new little plant. And who knows what will come of it. Perhaps my idea of silence Will grow stronger and more beautiful and bear unimagined fruits. And fruits are meant to be shared. You never know, another poem might just spring from it!


PROFOUND SILENCE

Early morning darkness
Wind is asleep
Birds are not stirring
A soul alone, at one with the universe.

Is this profound silence?

Woman sitting alone on a bench
Book open in her hands
Staring off into the distance
Her face a map of serenity.

Is this profound silence?

Man on his knees at the altar
Head bowed, eyes closed
His face a gentle mask
Of expectancy.

Is this profound silence?

A wide-eyed child spellbound
At his first sight of snowflakes
A moment frozen in time
A look of joy -
Once seen, never forgotten.

Is this profound silence?

Contemplation of a master’s work
Eyes shining, cheeks aglow
Climbing into the artist’s mind
Experiencing the joy of creation.

Is this profound silence?
....sfs2001

The Kitchen Gremlins

I have just noticed a strange phenomenon occurring in my kitchen. I think that something like Santa's workshop after closing time is happening. I spend time (now and then) cleaning and washing up. I leave feeling pleased with myself. An hour or two later I return with the intent of doing some cooking. Wait a minute! Where did that spoon come from? I'm sure that black splotch wasn't on the floor there before. Puzzled and annoyed, I clean things up again and proceed to do my cooking. I notice, as things progress, that the sink and counters are filling up with clutter at an astonishing rate. I can't be using that many utensils, I think. Oh well, again, I clean up again. Sink's clean, counters are clear, floor is free of unidentified items.
Off I go , coffee in hand, feeling pleased with myself. Time passes. I am in and out of the kitchen a few times, but imagine my shock when I do really look around! Again not just spoons, but knives seem to have leaped into the sink, possibly in antipication of a hot bath? They have been joined by several plastic cartons - wearing suspicious evidences of food, and a small pot. I sigh and look around in puzzlement. There must be some as yet unseen gremlins inhabiting my kitchen. I imagine them chortling (quietly) with glee as they wreak this disorder.
Tell me, are there any more kitchens out there like this or is mine an anomaly?

Return of the Poet/Writer (I think)

I never really got off to a great start last time. I was limiting myself to my poetry - already written and that seemed to blunt any creative writing of any sort.
Here's to an end to that and, a new beginning!
Recently, one of our local TV stations went off air. It wasn't making enough money for its owners. Oh dear!
For some while I have been disenchanted with the quality of news we receive. It seems as tho' the newspapers and networks simply want to write a script and deliver it. We should be happy with that - right? NOT! At least I'm not. This has led me to search for more authentic and independent alternatives to get news. Its amazing what is 'out there'. It seems that I am not alone in wanting to know what's really happening, both locally, nationally and internationally. I take comfort in that and I intend to keep searching out new sources. Who knows? I might be able to actively participate in some of the newsletters and papers appearing in my community! I might even meet some interesting people too!

ON BEING ORDINARY....

ON BEING ORDINARY;
I used to think that being ordinary was not a state I could aspire to.
It was common and boring - being ordinary meant being one of the crowd.
What a terrible fate I thought as I peered down from the lofty heights
Of my snobbish nose. Surely these little people want "more" out of life?
I tried and tried to be one of the chosen, select ones.
I was singularly unsuccessful. But that didn't stop me from trying again, and again , and again....
Each time I failed, the veneer, the mask I wore, grew thinner and thinner.
Harder and harder to hold together.
I was afraid - afraid that people would see through my mask.
They would see the "real" me and they would hate me!
This only made me strive harder and try more and more impossible feats.
Time after time I beat myself with my guilt. Oh, if only the world could see THOSE bruises,
I thought. But I don't want them to see me as I really am.
Time passed. My mask became threadbare and weak. I was growing weaker
And more frantic by the moment.
Any time now the whole facade would explode.
It didn't explode and somehow I held it together.
There's got to be more to life than this terrifying, draining struggle.
Admitting that I needed help was hard enough, seeking out that help was
Hard beyond belief. But to have that person tell me that I was not
Not superior and above average, and worse yet just ordinary! was
Unbearable. I argued and fought and denied it. I refused to surrender!
But .....then one day, I realized something that changed my attitude and started me
Down a road where I could not only accept, but rejoice and revel in my ordinariness!
Many blessed and wonderful things came about because of ordinary people.
One of the most wonderful being the birth of Christ - a special child - to ordinary parents.
If he could come from such humble, ordinary beginnings, then surely there could be
Nothing shameful about being ordinary. Rather it seems now a privilege to be called - ordinary!
...musings by sfstevens

The Silence Within

Most of my poetry begins with a phrase
chasing itself around in my head.
I have learned that there is usually a truth
to be learned from this kind of thing -
for me at least. My poetry is always
a surprise to me!


The Silence Within
Plumbing mysteries of life
Exchanged for ignorant poverty
Life’s a jumble
Leaves us hungering
For the feast.
In rags of mundanity
We stumble through life
Eyes downcast
Blind to the presence
Of spiritual food.
Life in the margins
Never savouring the depths
Groveling in confusion
Precious time ill-spent
Looking in barren fields.
Drowning in a famine of chaos
Begging for meaning
In all the wrong places
Weary and worn from our emptiness
Downtrodden by shadows.
Raising our eyes
Looking inward for help
Our path becomes clearer
Silence envelops us.
A gateway appears.
We are rich beyond measure.
sfs2001


This was written at a time when I was grasping at straws
looking for meaning - often in the wrong places.
Only when I started to write the last five lines
did I begin to understand my reason for writing this poem.

WHO AM I?
I danced on the moon
I flew through the stars
I painted the skies
With my tears and my laughter
I sculpted my life without care
Taking no thought
For the promise it held
More and more often
My skies became stained
With deepening gloom and despair.
I feel so alone!
On the outside I laugh
On the inside I moan
As darkness takes over
My carefully-crafted facade
Becomes lost in the shadows
Of deepening gloom and despair.
I want to dance
I want to fly
I want to feel free
I want to deliver
My soul, my sacred self
From deepening gloom and despair.
I want to find me!
...sfstevens
1998





REFLECTIONS ON WHO AM I?
This was written some eleven years ago, when I was losing my battle with depression. Everything was overwhelming to me. Anything I tried seemed to be insurmountable. Even the simplest, most familiar occurrences could send me into a spiral. I prayed a lot for help and strength, but at times it looked as tho’ no one was listening. I cried and yelled at the anonymous ‘whoever’ that seemed to be conspiring against me.
I flung myself repeatedly against the same old obstacles and, surprise! they were as immovable as ever. There was no hope, I thought. I had wasted so much of my life, prospects of regaining control (if I had ever had it!) appeared impossible. I threw tantrums. I made unwise decisions, but I didn’t care. If God didn’t, and it looked like He didn’t, why should I?
I put up a good facade - I laughed and talked and continued to act as tho’ nothing whatever was wrong. On the inside I wanted nothing more than to be ME - whoever that was! I wanted to feel free to live out my purpose. The problem? I still had no idea what my purpose was!
Not to be completely overcome, I continued to rant and rave at the ‘powers that be’ and in between times, I tried to pray. Prayer won more often than not , but I still could see no end to this dilemma. Who was I, exactly? I didn’t know then, and still don’t today. I do have a clearer picture tho’. So that means there’s hope!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Will I Ever Learn?

This poem came out of much soul searching. I felt that I had a right to judge others, but somehow that didn't make me feel 'righteous'. When I finished this, I realized that I was the one who needed the help! I needed to learn to forgive and not just forgive but forget too.
This was written ten of more years ago. It has proven to be a critical step in my personal growth - both spiritual and emotional. I realized that all was not hopeless for me, but filled with opportunities for joy.


WILL I EVER LEARN?
My neighbour came to me one day for help.
I said, "I am too busy."
He came again another day,
I hid behind the curtain and refused to let him in.
Will I ever learn to share another's burdens?
He approached me on the street
In ragged clothes, with hands outstretched.
My soul was chilled with condemnation.
I turned me head and walked away.
Will I ever learn to feel another's pain?
He broke into my space; he stole from me
Some precious worldly goods.
At his trial, I shouted, "Justice!"
What I really wanted was revenge.
Will I ever learn forgiveness?
"How do you plead?" the judge called out.
My neighbour sadly looked at me.
"I asked for mercy, but no one listened.
I begged for human understanding
But only silence came in answer."
(Will I ever learn to care?)
"My children cried from hunger, I could not bear it!
In desperation, I stole from my neighbour
To feed my sick and starving babes."
Will I ever learn to share my worldly wealth?
Only as my neighbour was led away,
Did I recall the Saviour's gentle warning;
"If you did it not for one of my children,
You did it not for me!"
WILL I EVER BE FORGIVEN?
...sfstevens