World Soul: Memories Long Lost, Forgotten

A word spoken, perhaps; broken image, a sound,
Or sweet incense smell unbound on softest wind
Unbend mind and soul to remember some memory
Long lost and forgotten, but of what we know not;
Feeling rises deep-hot in mind and soul fraught
With truth of another kind ~ primordial, unsought,
Untamed, wild, ne’er mild ~ when earth was child;
We know with an unknowing knowledge unbeguiled,
In inner chamber of the heart, in part, not all
That there is more and has been and will be…
It’s an inescapable inner feeling, peeling away
Layer upon layer of time’s encrustation, frustration
And without hesitation spirit recalls first day
Of dawn, in the beginning, no apprehending of ending
In garden of life, no heart to harden, crime to pardon…


He stepped off onto the ancient Gerasene shore ~
Land of Alexander’s aged ~ where demoniac before
Nazarene cowered and in legion begged, but more
In rage ‘gainst divine sage on time-worn stage
Where played æons of battle seen, unseen
By naked eye, but why was he there that day?
Not to stay nor play, but called perhaps?
Yet so brief to bring relief to man possessed;
Nothing more, then, upon that ancient shore?
Ah! But there is always more to mystic lore,
Left shrouded in mystery, beclouded by history.


Powerful sensation from an eternal relation
Shared by humanity, though called insanity,
On the edge of reality; we know we’ve hidden
And show not any indication of recognition
Of memories we share in dream or nightmare;
Yet there is no escape from spiritual shape
Of ancestors gone before, who into us pour
From open heavenly door what divine likeness
We adore and abhor, as we rape God’s creation,
And drape funeral shawl over soul in denial
Of her own reality, in shuttered mentality;
But we cannot escape word spoken, broken image,
Sound, or incense smell unbound on soft wind
To remember memories long lost and forgotten.


Passing Thought of an Individual Striving to be Human

imagesCAY4Q70SIndividualism tells us we can make it on our own, that we can survive and thrive alone, be high priest in our own holy temple, captain of our own ship, master of our own destiny… And individualism is an insidious lie. Both divine revelation and human experience teaches us that we are not complete in and of ourselves, that the nature of humanity is such that we can only fully be who and what we are in community, thriving as unique individuals in tandem with others in their uniqueness, and thus find fulfillment.

As Desmond Tutu rightly observed, “My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together,” which is itself an echo of the apostle St. Paul who taught, “we are members one of another.” Touché! Women and men, old and young, of every race and creed and culture are inextricably linked in the truth of being human. To sever any part is to cut off what is part of our very nature. To disregard and denigrate some is to malign ourselves. To disregard the needs and sufferings of so many of our brothers and sisters is to heedlessly ignore our own misery. To decry the innate worth of others is to demean the essence of who and what we are … indeed, to sacrifice our very soul.

Nevertheless, the nearly inexpressible tragedy of fear and suspicion, of pain and unhealed wounds, of anger, hatred, and animosity largely marks the reality of life in this world, where love flickers as a candle in the darkness and truth barely whispers amid the cacophony of confusion. Yet hope is found in the flame and the still, small voice that ever speaks in the depths of the human heart – the one to emblazon, the other to embolden – and here we may begin again, each one of us, to turn ourselves toward the other to look and see, to listen and finally hear, to reach out and touch and at last truly feel … to begin to live, and thus to be reborn, finally and fully human, divinely human.