WALK DON’T RUN
By Rob Bell
Walk, don’t run.
That’s it.
Walk, don’t run.
Slow down, breathe deeply,
and open your eyes because there’s
a whole world right here within this one.
The bush doesn’t suddenly catch on fire, it’s been burning the whole time.
Moses is simply moving
slowly enough to see it. And when he does,
he takes off his sandals.
Not because
the ground has suddenly become holy,
but because he’s just now becoming aware that
the ground has been holy the whole time.
By Rob Bell
Walk, don’t run.
That’s it.
Walk, don’t run.
Slow down, breathe deeply,
and open your eyes because there’s
a whole world right here within this one.
The bush doesn’t suddenly catch on fire, it’s been burning the whole time.
Moses is simply moving
slowly enough to see it. And when he does,
he takes off his sandals.
Not because
the ground has suddenly become holy,
but because he’s just now becoming aware that
the ground has been holy the whole time.
Walk Slowly
by -Danna Faulds
It only takes a reminder to breathe,
a moment to be still, and just like that,
something in me settles, softens, makes
space for imperfection. The harsh voice
of judgment drops to a whisper and I
remember again that life isn’t a relay
race; that we will all cross the finish
line; that waking up to life is what we
were born for. As many times as I
forget, catch myself charging forward
without even knowing where I’m going,
that many times I can make the choice
to stop, to breathe, and be, and walk
slowly into the mystery.
by -Danna Faulds
It only takes a reminder to breathe,
a moment to be still, and just like that,
something in me settles, softens, makes
space for imperfection. The harsh voice
of judgment drops to a whisper and I
remember again that life isn’t a relay
race; that we will all cross the finish
line; that waking up to life is what we
were born for. As many times as I
forget, catch myself charging forward
without even knowing where I’m going,
that many times I can make the choice
to stop, to breathe, and be, and walk
slowly into the mystery.
Beginning to Begin
By Gunilla Norris
Can we recognize that now and then there comes
an inner sense,
a fleeting thought, a little yearning
to live our lives differently?
We don’t know what this means or what it requires.
We shake these notions off like a dog shakes off water
And go about our business.
But the longing continues.
Who has the time, we ask? What is it anyway?
Reorganize to do what? Stop?
Do nothing? Be quiet?
What for?
Our practical selves only know how to perfect,
produce and perform.
This, at least, we can see as useful. This has results.
We want to believe in this way of perceiving.
For a little while it seems to give us
some sort of self-image.
But the longing doesn’t let us alone. It won’t go away.
We become even busier perhaps
to “take care of it.”
We numb ourselves with distractions— things to do,
consume, and maintain—
things to collect, experience, and entertain.
We can always think of more miles to run.
Still the little yearning continues. . . .
Could we sense that this longing is not lack
or something worse
some kind of fundamental fault in us?
Could we receive it as an invitation instead,
a calling, a small voice inviting us home,
back to our truer self?
This shift in thought can move mountains.
It can let us begin to begin.
By Gunilla Norris
Can we recognize that now and then there comes
an inner sense,
a fleeting thought, a little yearning
to live our lives differently?
We don’t know what this means or what it requires.
We shake these notions off like a dog shakes off water
And go about our business.
But the longing continues.
Who has the time, we ask? What is it anyway?
Reorganize to do what? Stop?
Do nothing? Be quiet?
What for?
Our practical selves only know how to perfect,
produce and perform.
This, at least, we can see as useful. This has results.
We want to believe in this way of perceiving.
For a little while it seems to give us
some sort of self-image.
But the longing doesn’t let us alone. It won’t go away.
We become even busier perhaps
to “take care of it.”
We numb ourselves with distractions— things to do,
consume, and maintain—
things to collect, experience, and entertain.
We can always think of more miles to run.
Still the little yearning continues. . . .
Could we sense that this longing is not lack
or something worse
some kind of fundamental fault in us?
Could we receive it as an invitation instead,
a calling, a small voice inviting us home,
back to our truer self?
This shift in thought can move mountains.
It can let us begin to begin.
What You Missed That Day You Were Absent from Fourth Grade
a poem by Brad Aaron Modlin
Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas, how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer.
She took questions on how not to feel lost in the dark.
After lunch she distributed worksheets that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s voice.
Then the class discussed falling asleep without feeling you had forgotten to do something else— something important—and how to believe the house you wake in is your home.
This prompted Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks, and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts are all you hear; also, that you have enough.
The English lesson was that I am is a complete sentence. And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation look easy.
The one that proves that hundreds of questions, and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking for whatever it was you lost, and one person add up to something.
a poem by Brad Aaron Modlin
Mrs. Nelson explained how to stand still and listen to the wind, how to find meaning in pumping gas, how peeling potatoes can be a form of prayer.
She took questions on how not to feel lost in the dark.
After lunch she distributed worksheets that covered ways to remember your grandfather’s voice.
Then the class discussed falling asleep without feeling you had forgotten to do something else— something important—and how to believe the house you wake in is your home.
This prompted Mrs. Nelson to draw a chalkboard diagram detailing how to chant the Psalms during cigarette breaks, and how not to squirm for sound when your own thoughts are all you hear; also, that you have enough.
The English lesson was that I am is a complete sentence. And just before the afternoon bell, she made the math equation look easy.
The one that proves that hundreds of questions, and feeling cold, and all those nights spent looking for whatever it was you lost, and one person add up to something.
“We waste so much energy trying to cover up who we are when beneath every attitude is the want to be loved, and beneath every anger is a wound to be healed and beneath every sadness is the fear that there will not be enough time.
When we hesitate in being direct, we unknowingly slip something on, some added layer of protection that keeps us from feeling the world, and often that thin covering is the beginning of a loneliness which, if not put down, diminishes our chances of joy.
It’s like wearing gloves every time we touch something, and then, forgetting we chose to put them on, we complain that nothing feels quite real. Our challenge each day is not to get dressed to face the world but to unglove ourselves so that the doorknob feels cold and the car handle feels wet and the kiss goodbye feels like the lips of another being, soft and unrepeatable.”
― Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You HaveEnglish
When we hesitate in being direct, we unknowingly slip something on, some added layer of protection that keeps us from feeling the world, and often that thin covering is the beginning of a loneliness which, if not put down, diminishes our chances of joy.
It’s like wearing gloves every time we touch something, and then, forgetting we chose to put them on, we complain that nothing feels quite real. Our challenge each day is not to get dressed to face the world but to unglove ourselves so that the doorknob feels cold and the car handle feels wet and the kiss goodbye feels like the lips of another being, soft and unrepeatable.”
― Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening: Having the Life You Want by Being Present to the Life You HaveEnglish