This Old Life

It doesn't make sense,

this old life.

Old. Olding. Older.

All the same.

In the same body, it’s all the same.

Eventually.

There’s nothing new under the sun.

A life grows. It dies.

Happiness comes. It fades.

The aching heart hurts. It heals.

The pressure cooker squeals. It calms.

Eventually.

This cycle of life, it turns, it churns.

It rolls along.

The cicadas still sing.

Are they laughing at me?

The probably are not even aware of me.

My thoughts. My presence.

I’m listening to them.

What do I mean to a cicada?

It doesn’t make sense,

this old life.

11/06

The Church

I have a love-hate relationship with the Church.
It's where I find beautiful people, community, spiritual things that amaze me, justice and compassion.
For a long time, it has defined me.
It has been a vehicle for my thoughts and ideas.
It has been a framework.
It has provided opportunities to work with justice issues, like no other place, in no other way.

And yet...there was a time when it didn't define me.
I defined me.
I was pretty self absorbed then
and I've partly not gotten that out of my system.
But self absorption is not all bad. Because I relied on myself.
My confidence was high, I knew then, what I was capable of.
I was capable of surviving and inspiring.
I knew there were some special things about me then.

This vehicle I'm travelling in is not a kind place.
That self reliance and confidence,
that arrogance that really took me places,
the ability to take chances and risk much,
the survival and inspiration
--- all of that is not welcomed too much in this vehicle.

This vehicle, on the most part, wants conformity.
Wants inspiration - but not too much or it becomes suspicious.
Wants self reliance and confidence
- but definitely not to a point where it needs to question accountability and pull in the reigns.
It says it wants risk taking - but not by risking too much that could hurt us.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Church. And sometimes I think there's more hate there than love. It promises the world but delivers very little of its promises.

It's lucky Christ is not limited to this vehicle.

Dogs

My dogs are crazy. Oops, our dogs are crazy.

Mallie the Maltese/silky whines and whimpers and barks whenever she's hungry until someone feeds her (Thankfully Dave has started doing it when he gets up at 6.30am). THEN she comes back in and sits by the bed chewing her feet.
This morning I kept yelling at her to stop...but she continued to annoy me...

You will read on Dave's blog the very funny story about what Kaibu, our border collie was up to in the mean time.

I admitted defeat eventually and got out of bed. Mallie tried to fool me into thinking she hadn't been fed already but when I ignored her, she curled up on a pillow (on the couch!) and went to sleep. AND...the little sh*t hasn't moved since!

NICE that she gets to sleep now that I'm awake....

Poem

Then the old man said ‘why can’t we be happy with everything?’

Can’t we love it all?

The young girl asks ‘why can’t we have it all?’

Is it possible to find a certain love in the whole lot?

Or am I just going a bit crazy?

Can we decipher for ourselves

When to eat up all the wonder?

Because pushing it down is cramping my style

Is it too strange to want to be

And just love for a little while?

Take note of the speechlessness of a genuine smile

In all it’s simple magic

Then look away to a new scene..

The child crying softly

Weeping on a concrete footstep

And inside, a broken toy

Tears tumbling over his fingers

But it’s real and there’s no doubt

And it’s a precious living thing

That I can’t stop thinking about

And I know of this life

That the word beauty falls so short

There’s no way to live and love

Unless you observe and do and know

What can’t be taught or told

So ride the cradle’s gentle wave

And inspire the moonshine

Into simply being, without a word

(c) Megan Graham 2006

Wollongong