Thursday, July 28, 2011

Allowing the Creative Life

The mystic dances in the sun,
hearing music others don't.

"Insanity," they say, those others.
If so, it's a very gentle,
nourishing sort.

We're not afraid of God's blade,
or of being chained up, or
of having our heads severed.  (Rumi)
I'm afraid instead of the ecstasy
that burns a hole in my eyelids
and keeps them wide
open to the creative spirit burning me crisp
turning me into a mystic, a fiend
and artist.

Don't I need to suffer for my calling?
Isn't martyrdom the price to pay
for ecstasy and visions and talent
and strength and courage?
Is Jesus' path the only way
to commune with God?

Can I bathe in the juice of God
without sleeping on the bed of nails
and dying on the cross with thorns?
Do I deserve to kick my heels up, all joy,
when too many around me are suffering
and pain emanates from the eys of the
sick, the ill, the
uninformed, the
delirious, the
jealous and the

Shouldn't I answer their call to fall from grace
join them in hell where all sinners belong?
Can the mere human love what she does and
do what she loves and not pay a price?
Who do I think I am
to consider creation my job?
Why would I be chosen?
There's a heavy price to pay.
Or is there?
Must I?

Or may I begin something new?  Grace and joy and
acceptance of all that's good in my life.
May I live a life of goodness and mercy
apart from guilt? 
May I allow myself that?

For I am the only one standing in my way.

Paths go from here to there,
but don't arrive from somewhere!
It's time now to live naked.  (Rumi)

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