The Foolishness of Nature Worship

Nature-1166895_640

 

The Foolishness of Nature Worship by King Solomon.
(Reflections of a royal philosopher)

For all people who were ignorant
of God were foolish by nature; and
they were unable from the good things
that are seen to know the one who exists,
nor did they recognize the artisan but his works.

They supposed that either fire or
wind or the circle of the stars, or
turbulent water or the luminaries of
heaven were the gods that rule the world.

If through delight in the beauty of these
things, people assumed them to be gods, let
them know how much better than these is their
Lord, for the author of beauty created them.

And if people were amazed at their power
and working, let them perceive how much
more powerful is the one who formed them.
For from the greatness and beauty of
created things comes a corresponding
perception of their Creator.

Can we blame them? Perhaps they go astray
while seeking God and desiring to find him.
For while they live among his works,
they keep searching, and they trust in
what they can see, because the things
that are seen are beautiful.

Yet again, not even they are to be excused;
for if they had the power to know so much
that they could investigate the world,
how did they fail to find sooner the
Lord of these things?

Credits:
Text – Paraphrased from The Book of Wisdom (Chapter 13) – NRSV Edition
Image – Pixabay

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

The Aftermath – What Remains?

 

chains-433541_640

Credit: Pixabay

The shaking is intended for certain heartbreak and our fainting.

How do we deal with the aftermath?  The consequences of a significant unpleasant event lingers like a bitter aftertaste. It is the rumble left behind when our foundations are jolted out of alignment by an unexpected earthquake. It is when embedded chains even invisible to us are brought into full focus and we have to deal with our new reality. Are we going to stay bound or break free from false foundations? Anything that can be shaken should not have been trusted in the first place.

I would not confuse
the bogus
with the spurious.
The bogus
is a sore thumb
while the spurious
pours forth
as fish and circuses.  (An excerpt from Spurious by Rae Armantrout.)

We hold fast to wrong  foundations as the definition of our core identity till a slip-up exposes the hollow circuses  we’ve allowed to define and be responsible for our happiness. I held on to the love of a certain boy long ago, whose lopsided smile took my breath away till fishes and circuses rained on my parade. It was a fantasy interrupted by a rude rap on my door.

Who goes there?

Rain.

I’ve been a Californian for so long –  I don’t know how to behave in the presence of rain.
Especially a torrent propelling me down fury’s road of liquid drama featuring three deranged and frazzled people needing Dr. Phil’s intervention. Metaphors are always adept in helping me manage painful realities. I closed my eyes and refused to see rain – messy, distressing and unwelcome.

Marriage, friendships, job or career, beauty or charm, money, wealth, sexual orientation or even race, make pretty wobbly foundations.  I’m not sure race should even make the list but in the context of self-worth for some pathetic folks, it is an over-aching standard.

Still I refuse to give up on family and children – pain and joy comes with the territory and privilege of loving and being loved by others. I found out through my experience that only faith can withstand the tremors and earthquakes.  Faith is what remains. God is able to turn what was intended for our unravelling for some sort of good – like stripping us from clutches, laying a new foundation of greater faith and exposing our false gods.

“When you connect your purpose to your perspective, nobody else holds your keys.” Pastor  Steven Furtick 

The venom of anger and hate would only serve to shackle my future to my past. Praise is the only tool powerful enough to break every chain. Indeed life is so much more than these disappointments that now loom so large but in a few years will be so insignificant when compared to God’s greater vision for our lives.
May each aftermath find you and me standing in faith, with hands raised so high the chains are broken. There is only One worthy of our trust because He will always be faithful in His love for us.

Peace to all our broken pieces.

 

Couture for Cloud Beings – A Poem

Clouds Couture

Image Credit – Pixabay.  Clouds Couture

Couture for Cloud Beings – A Poem
by Ama Danesi

To think I could be invisible
relieved from this pall of doom
Dressed in a mass of veils –
and adorn the skies
and drenched in heaven’s pearls.
To go where divine ball-gowns are made
with silver lining corsets,
with stitches – the thinnest threads of sparkling stars.
How I would be tickled pink –
to wear a cloud someday.

Waiters, Seasons and Unexpected Tranquility

Image Credit: Pixabay

Image Credit: Pixabay

Here’s a thought, dreaming takes no effort.
Anyone can plop their heads on a pillow at night and dream without a license. No-one should begrudge your precious bucket-list and if people close to you do, lose them as friends. When we are awake and basking in the sun, (assuming you live in California) or lost on a dirt road, we wait. We wait for Fridays to feel giddy about our week, we wait for payday, we wait while a seed grows for nine months then birth a child who never outgrows our care.

For love, we wait for prince charming, I did. I got one with a lopsided smile that arrests my heart.
Boys wait too. Wondering, will I find the one? Will she open up to me, curl up to me in her sleep? Will she love me the same when I’m down?
We anticipate seasons (except tax season) and the magic we project on each one. In and out of season, we can seek happiness, meaning and find ways to serve. Most can’t wait to retire, but fear death. Sometimes we don’t even know what we are holding out for. We just know there’s “something more…”

The worst kind is waiting to be happy. Waiters serve.

I have realized that the real out-of-body-experience isn’t meeting a celebrity, or getting that sale or recognition but the tangible, wild, pulsating joy of volunteering and giving of myself. It is truly more satisfying to give than to receive. I’m grateful to TCOTW for letting me give.

What determines our quality of life? Per capita income? Even in developing countries, lives are drastically changed when people stop waiting to be served and get busy with life.
Immortality is wired in our hearts. Forever is a really long time to spend regretting not making a mark. We are deeply terrified of being forgotten. So with peace we’ll serve. On the way to our dreams, we’ll serve. Happy is always lurking at the corner of our lips.

If all we do is dream, like those fleeting visions…we will be forgotten.

 

Image Credit: Pixabay

Image Credit: Pixabay

Unexpected Tranquility by Wendell Berry

I come into the peace of wild things,
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief
I come to the presence of still water
And I feel above me the day – blind stars waiting their light.
For a time I rest in the grace of the world
and am free.
 

PS: I am becoming a big fan of Wendell Berry.  He is 80 years…still waiting and serving.

I Choose You Again – My Wild, My Rose

I Chose You Again, My wild, My rose

Credit: Google Images

Are you camp “Old Fashioned” or “Fifty Shades of Grey”? This valentine we reflect on why we chose or love or hurt the one we are with. Pain is inevitable in love but not pain in self-depreciating shades. We forgive the edges in well-deployed words and actions that rip into old wounds, choosing to return to wild, breathless passion. Love can be traumatic, so trust has to be implicit.

Trust that beneath the flares, your love is still wild about you. Which is why I am firmly in camp Old-Fashioned. The movie reminds us that love is patient, because we all fall flat on our faces. As the trailer says, “Love is about a girl and a boy looking for something more.” Is something more – bondage, whips, handcuffs and games? Who needs sexual fantasies about hurting and disrespecting each other? Love is not always pretty – that’s life but we are basically old-fashioned and frayed along the edges. Our hearts need safe place, a home – picket fence and all.

Trust is a phenomenal aphrodisiac. Romance is worth its weight in red rose bouquets and it takes a good girl or boy to blow your mind. (Thanks Jessie J.)  This day, I choose love – old-fashioned, familiar but wild.

I chose you wild rose

Credit: Pixabay Images

“The Wild Rose” by Wendell Berry

Sometimes hidden from me
in daily custom and in trust,
so that I live by you unaware
as by the beating of my heart,

Suddenly you flare in my sight
a wild rose blooming at the edge
of thicket, grace and light
where yesterday was only shade,

and once again I am blessed, choosing
again what I chose before.