The Less Friction You Make

The Less Friction You Make

The less friction you make 
as you move through this world,
the more power you will gather 
and can store. 

Fire will take an interest in you,
thinking you are an heir to Light. 

Reason will take an interest in you,
thinking you are an heir to Truth. 

And you will wait, for your time to come,
to speak up with passion,
to tear down some walls of tyranny. 

 Stained Glass, Keith Green

There Is A Place

There Is A Place

There is a place between knowing you are priceless 
and at the same time, recognizing you are nothing. 

Somewhere between those two poles, live;
if you can.

       Keith Green's The Prodigal Son Suite touches on life between these two poles, while at the same time telling a compelling story of redemption. The opening orchestral music is just breathtaking. Take a listen!

The Prodigal Son Suite, Keith Green

Keep Squeezing Drops Of The Sun

Keep Squeezing Drops Of The Sun

I know the voice of depression 
still calls to you.

I know that habits that can ruin 
still send their invitations. 

But keep squeezing drops of the Sun

from your prayers and work and music
and from your companions' beautiful laughter 

from the sacred hands and knowing glance
of your Beloved,

from actions of delight and freedom 
and Love,

from the most insignificant movements 
of your own holy body, 

keep squeezing drops of the Sun. 

        Below are selections from William Wordsworth's Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, I think the paint a tremendous picture of the astonishment that can be lost as we transition from child to adult. Sometimes, this unknown loss adds to our perceived misfortune. 

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 

The earth, and every common sight, 

To me did seem 

Apparell'd in celestial light, 

The glory and the freshness of a dream. 

It is not now as it hath been of yore;— 

Turn wheresoe'er I may, 

By night or day, 

The things which I have seen I now can see no more. 

The rainbow comes and goes, 

And lovely is the rose; 

The moon doth with delight 

Look round her when the heavens are bare; 

Waters on a starry night 

Are beautiful and fair; 

The sunshine is a glorious birth; 

But yet I know, where'er I go, 

That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth. 

Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call 

Ye to each other make; I see 

The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; 

My heart is at your festival, 

My head hath its coronal, 

The fullness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all. 

O evil day! if I were sullen 

While Earth herself is adorning, 

This sweet May-morning, 

And the children are culling 

On every side, 

In a thousand valleys far and wide, 

Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, 

And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm:— 

I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! 

—But there's a tree, of many, one, 

A single field which I have look'd upon, 

Both of them speak of something that is gone: 

The pansy at my feet 

Doth the same tale repeat:

Whither is fled the visionary gleam? 

Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

Eternal Rain Drop from Warrior of Light Blog

Hearing Someone Laugh

Hearing Someone Laugh

Have you ever felt jealous hearing someone laugh? 
And then began to think to yourself,

"Why am I so caught in the world's snare? 
Why don't I know right now the freedom
in other voices when their spirit like an
arrow takes flight above the hour's concern?"

But the heart's laughter is never there to taunt,
real laughter is a waving, a beckoning, a message,
a willing call to all that says,

"Come here, we're having fun!" 

        I absolutely love the idea that laughter is when "the spirit, like an arrow, takes flight above the hour's concern". It's such a peaceful verse to meditate on, the comfort that we can rise above our troubles for a few seconds and forget as our soul takes delight. It's also uplifting to hear that laughter is "an invitation to others".
        Take a listen to this uplifting tune:

You Put This Love In My Heart (1977), Keith Green

Pour You God

Pour You God

God needs sacred tablets 
where He can write His resplendent verse,
and I have become such a stone. 

I build canals into the cities and plains.
I run beside small villages and sing. 
I nourish the roots of stars and mankind. 
Birds fly to my shores. 

I ecstatically speak with words,
and also with the purest language - silence - 
saying in a thousand different ways
to everyone; countrymen, comets, and stars: 
"I am so full of love, bring your cup,
and I will pour you God." 

I Am, Mark Schultz

Every Horse Should Run Full Speed

Every Horse Should Run Full Speed

Accomplish something with your life;
use all your wits and talents.

As every horse should be able 
to run full speed,
and know all the beauty and wonder
of its strength. 

         Today is my mom's birthday, I wish her the full speed of a beautiful running horse and the ageless wisdom contained with Wordsworth's poem. I love you, Mom!

Lines Composed a Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey

William Wordsworth

Oh that best portion of a good man's life, 

His little, nameless, unremembered, acts 

Of kindness and of love. 

Nor less, I trust, To them I may have owed another gift, 

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood, 

In which the burthen of the mystery, 

In which the heavy and the weary weight 

Of all this unintelligible world, Is lightened:

- that serene and blessed mood,

by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, 

We see into the life of things - and become a living soul. 

Wild Horses

Photograph by: Chuck Haney

There Is A Face Here

There Is A Face Here

Don't you know you could bring an end
to so much suffering,

if you just walked through the streets,
looking at everyone, 
as you do your Beloved? 

There is an enchanting face here, 
if you can slow down,
and behold in an extraordinary way. 

        How do you look at your Beloved? At others? At yourself?

"I would describe myself

like a landscape I've studied

at length, in detail;

like a word I'm coming to understand;

like a pitcher I pour from at mealtime;

like my mother's face;

like a ship that carried me

when the waters raged." 

Rainer Maria Rilke, The Book of Hours I, 13

When God Made You, Newsong