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Still, not stationary


Is it even possible
to be still,
in the presence of one who
is never still?
Mirror neurons, they
are a-buzzin’

How is it
that God,
who is stillness,
is strength and power,
endurance and accomplishment,
rest and calm,
undiminished all?

While I,
overtaken by sorrow at the weeping,
muffled by the world’s accounting,
leaden with the weary travelers,
am overcome by the task
of stillness.

Stilled by God,
Ah, stilled by God,
I am still, not stationary.
Poised in power,
Coiled in crouch,
Ready and waiting.
Neurons, they
are a-buzzin’



Suddenly Still

Stillness is a shock to the system.

The screeching of tires, the squealing of wheels, the swerving and maneuvering to get out of the way. When the smoke clears and the dust settles, it takes a bit of righting to find balance. Turns out, forward momentum can keep you upright through pretty much any squall, but stillness…now THAT requires full attention.

Nothing propels you forward but your determination.

Nothing holds you back but your inertia.

Nothing prevents you falling, but your course corrections. Be aware of your surroundings. Be sure of your footing. Have your compass handy.

Nothing moves you forward but your own efforts.

Stillness is a sock in the gut and a kick in the pants. It’s not the friendly place you once knew, it’s the firm place you now need.

It’s amazing what stillness brings into focus.


Funeral for a Phone

Phone black.
black - power buttonNo on. No off.
No apps, no emails, no blogs.
No hits, no runs, no errors.
Inning over.

Wait a minute.
What is that I hear?
…the sound
of silence.
Of no one calling,
No texts, no messages, no Facebook.

New game:
Watch the road and let the mind wander at red lights.
How cute that couple, wonder if they see that in their handhelds.
What? You texted? Sorry, tell me what you wanted to say.
Take your time. Nothing urgent.

There it sits.
Phone still black.
No on. No off. I tried.
Old habits die hard.
Oh, how this habit has made itself at home.

seeping in,
filling every crevice,
engaging every neuron,
flowing through every artery,
extracting the oxygen of life.

Hey, that’s mine.
Thief, give it back!
Then you died
and left me … everything.
Funny, I hadn’t noticed
it had gone missing.

New game:
forced phone-fasting.
Wasn’t my idea.
Hope it catches on.

We can form teams,
print jerseys,
go out for pizza,
share a few laughs.

Sorry, phone, you’re not invited.
You’ve had your fun.
Now it’s my turn.


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