Upon picking up my pen in the New Year, the words that came were: first thoughts are best thoughts.
On the first day of the year, I recall the verse from John 8:12: When Jesus spoke again he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
These words are with me in the realization of what life really is. In beginning a New Year, there are resolutions and consideration for what I envision in a personal sense. But more importantly, I choose to follow a path of light. The true life is one in which God’s word shines through us—whatever the task, wherever we are.
The path of light is one of daily communion, an innermost place of giving and receiving. It is one of staying true to oneself, regardless of what goes on. It means “being in this world but not of this world.” It means time alone with God, though people and situations enrich us.
When we stand in light, following the way, we are guided each and every moment. Momentary existence may be for better or for worse, but there is a constancy that cannot be denied. When we find that inner vibrancy, there is joy.
The New Year means to me:
1. That I embrace the child within with love and devotion.
2. That I turn my life over to be used as only God can.
3. That life is not about searching but about following.
4. That the wish for myself extend to others: Goodwill and Peace, no matter the trials and tribulations.
The New Year brings hope and renewal. May a beacon of light guide your way.
The moments of being fully alive become treasured keepsakes for the years. Though the circumstances vary, the experience is the same—a joyful sense of immediacy and awareness—occasions when life rings true. But we do not have to wait for such precious times; the true life can be for all times.
The conditions of life change for better or worse. But the true life is an unconditional quality of being, steady and faithful. It is when we connect with that source that we are truly ourselves—when life is most deeply felt. As Jesus said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”
The true life is a place of ageless intimacy—an inner matrix of receiving God’s gift and giving thanks—dynamically interactive and devotional. When we live as if life were somewhere else, we lose the only true anchor we have.
The true life enables every heartbeat and expression. When it is my chosen path because I value that space above all else, sooner or later it spills over into the transience of daily affairs. It becomes the transcendent spark in every situation, the keepsake I take to bed each night and to the morrow, if God permits.
Each sunrise presents a glimmer of new awareness, a tiny rung of truth in an ever-ascending partnership with God.
Today God tells me to be content with what I have; to be carried forth in faith, not to reach for what is denied or not yet manifest. Otherwise, I may follow the fate of the fallen angel, who perpetually plummets and scrambles back up.
It seems that awareness is always coming into being, and what I knew yesterday may not be enough—that learning is continual, requiring attention. If I am wise, I’ll be with the dawning. I’ll stay with the emergence—life in the making, still uncertain. When a new rung appears, I’ll step up to the offering.
From where I stand today, I hear: Go with whatever uplifts your spirit and makes you happy, regardless of what goes on. Share your gifts with those who can receive them and have something to give back—like a smile. Don’t worry about what happens here on Earth—disappointments and twists of fate. Go forward steadfastly.
Sometimes the truths I glean are uncomfortable—such as insubstantial aspects of life I’ve held onto. Other times they bring comfort or joy, as missing pieces I’ve needed for some time. If I receive God’s offerings, without grasping for what remains veiled, life will be more than I imagine. In partnership—at God’s pace—there will be treasure at each rung to carry to Heaven.
With first light, I rein in this errant mind to engage the “here and now.” In the remembering of that exquisite place, I float down, down, down—to receive God’s offering.
There is nothing so redeeming as the moment at hand. Wistfully, I wonder if I can be within its protective fold forever. Perhaps it can accompany me into every corner of life. Ultimately it may be all that counts, when all else falls away.
I don’t need to “make life happen” so much as replenish reserves, to be refreshed in the “fountain of youth,” an immutable source where time dissolves into an ever-flowing grace. From that position, I gather the means to be present for the unfolding.
By taking the time to be with myself this way, little by little it becomes the Way. The Way becomes my life, taking precedence over content—the events of the day, where I’ve been, and where I’m going. It relieves me of preoccupation and gives life back. To awaken onto this moment is to receive God’s gift—in the rendering of joy, love, peace on Earth prior to Heaven’s calling.
I step out for a walk, longing to share my love. Around the corner a stranger crosses my path where, through smiles of recognition, our love intersects, uplifting our spirits.
When we tap the wellspring, we come to life—blossoming with the love that has been there all along. This earthly journey is nothing if not a chance to express in the physical what is genuinely ours. In this way, we gather friends and family, including those encountered serendipitously, the light of which burns on.
Love is most gloriously fulfilled in closeness with God. God whispers what I need to know, while I withhold nothing. When I can’t seem to endure, God shows me how. God knows my strength and teaches me to use it. Through daily communion, I learn self-love.
I feel, God, you know what it means to be human, that you are not impassive, but walk this path with us—as Jesus taught. Through your Presence we become balanced, open-hearted, grounded in faith. In truth, we are comprised of thy substance.
In the midst of tenuous life, when we tap the wellspring we fulfill our humanity, before returning from whence we came.
To learn about my book, Freedom To Fall, click on “Morning Song Books” above—a true story about healing through love, after my son dies in a rock climbing accident.
Today I hear: Don’t make too much of circumstance. Allow it to be what it is without attaching importance. In that way I can access the eternal—the flow of experience connecting me with God.
I want to make the best of this time to cultivate a life that allows movement with grace. I want to fill life in many ways—not making life about any one way. I’d like to enter the stream, where experience serves a purpose.
Each day I can attend to a myriad of happenings, while acknowledging this very soul—an equalizer where all moments count, the giver of life, throwing out before me a daily course. Living this way takes the impetus off of what is going on and puts it where it belongs—on the gift itself, a shimmering passage inviting exploration.
There comes a time when you stop working on problems and simply follow, receiving life for the blessings and the lessons. The day comes when circumstance no longer dominates but is a contributor to the eternal aspect of our character in this brief encounter with Earth.
To read about my book, Freedom To Fall, the story of a young man who achieved the sense of the eternal through rock climbing, click on “Morning Song Books” above.
It is possible to live in the clutches of the past. It is also possible to step away to view from a distance what once played a role. By the cool, impartial grace of Witness, I close one door and open another to a life on the brink of unfolding.
It would be possible to live the whole of life in places already visited, never realizing another design. But within this same space of inner life sits a farseeing essence—steadfast, serene, light-filled—ready to surround prior times with love, honoring them as building blocks to the present, and to move on.
Fetters of the past circle my field, and I pull away in witness, freeing myself from olden dreams. The path through yonder hills gleams in the sun. Not knowing where it leads, I am willing to follow.