Whose Turn Is It?

Sydney Lynn Haupert-Lok1 Comment
Is it your turn to forgive me
or
is it my turn to forgive you?
I can’t remember either.
To be safe we better just forgive
each other at the exact same time.
Here’s how:
We will hold hands
so that your wrist
presses right up
against mine.
And now we wait
until our pulses
match each other.
And now we close our
eyes and pretend
that our veins are
rivers of empathy
and now the seasons are changing
and now the mountains are melting
and now the water is rising
and now the rivers are growing together
and now the barren
space we let grow
between us is being
flooded with stretching
vineyards of clemency
and now exotic wildflowers
are growing everywhere
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere
and now all we know is an ocean
and now we are swimming
in the same tides of understanding
and now the two of us are endless again
and now we are the
newborn children of forgiveness
open your eyes
look down at our wrists
wrapped around each other
and now I forgive you
and now you forgive me
and now I see you
and now you see me
and now can’t you feel it?
~ this rising river
~ this rolling ocean
~ this endless us
this rushing mercy
~ john roedel

Hey God

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by John Roedel

 
Me: Hey God.
God: Hey John.
Me: I’m about to break.
God: Why do you think that is?
Me: Because life just keeps getting harder.
God: Then you need to become softer.
Me: Huh?
God: Here is the thing:
glass is hard
but it can shatter
easily when dropped
rock is hard
but it can be broken
quickly with a drill
gold is hard
but it can be melted
in a blazing fire
don’t be so hard
that you break down so easily.
be soft
like wet clay
in the hands of a potter
be soft like
river water
in the summer
be soft like
the breeze through
a row of tall pines
all of those things
survive no matter what
happens to them
they endure because
they haven’t built their
existence out of hard
materials
be soft with other people
don’t break them
with your words
and don’t let them
break you with theirs
be soft with yourself
your heart is more cotton
than iron
your soul is wrapped
in the softest of fabrics
for a reason
the softer you become
the more you understand
how precious all life is
be more of cotton
than you are of concrete
~ love isn’t cold granite
love is shapeless
love is like ocean water
gently passing through your toes
in a world where the hardness of diamonds
helps determine its worth
don’t become one yourself
become so soft
that nothing can
break you
~ john roedel (johnroedel.com)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

A Poem from John Roedel

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Photo by Jonathan Borba on Pexels.com
people will deny
anything these days
so, I have decided to join
the practice of dismissing things
that we’ve been told are true
 
I have decided to quit believing in death
~ it just doesn’t exist for me anymore
 
I have a new theory
I’m working on~
when our dear ones
depart their bodies and
turn back into air and light
they don’t disappear
behind a brick wall
that separates us
~there are no bricks
there is no wall
~there are no barriers
 
there is only a grand
window between us
and those whom we
have stitched ourselves
to with the most divine
of angel hair threads
 
we can see our beloveds in
the heart shape clouds
and they can see us
as we kiss their picture
goodnight ever so softly
 
death doesn’t exist
it’s a debunked
flat-earth theology
where we are told that
the people we love spill off the
edge of the world and
fall away from us into
the endless unknown
that’s not my experience
 
what I have seen is that when
a dear one leaves me I don’t
feel the space grow between us
I feel us grow closer together
~ our entanglement becomes tighter
they travel with me to the
store to buy garlic
 
they brush my hair out of my eyes while
I cry in my car in an empty parking lot
they join me on my daily
walk around a lake
 
they sit on the board of my conscious
and offer me advice
they float above me while
I write a poem
they laugh when I trip over the same
chair damn every day
 
they catch my prayers and
courier them to God
they write love notes to me with steam
on my bathroom mirror
they play the right songs on the radio
at just the right time
they have made a cottage
in my heart
 
they have turned my eyes
into miracle telescopes
they converted my lungs
into a retreat center
they dance in the eyes
of my children
 
my loved ones haven’t gone anywhere
and neither have yours
they are just on the other side of the window
waiting for you to see them
waving at you
in their sundresses made out of stars
and their tuxedos stitched by time
 
and someday I will be on the
other side of the glass
acting so obnoxious that you
won’t be able to ignore me
and someday I will be writing
you love notes on the petals
of sunflowers for you to find
just when you need to read them
 
and someday I will help paint a
sunset in the exact color of the
way I felt whenever I was wrapped
up tightly in your arms
 
I’m not scientist but
my research tells me that
death doesn’t exist
 
however, love does
and it has no end
and neither do we
~ john roedel
Photo by Designecologist on Pexels.com

Watch “Jayne Smith’s Profound NDE – Near Death Experience” on YouTube

Sydney Lynn Haupert-Lok1 Comment

When Jayne talks about the flowers, the light emerging from them, it sparks a memory in me about how everything is lit from the inside out. I see all of us as Source Orbs lit from within, this light emerging from our crowns as if we were lanterns creating the writings on the walls of creation. What are we writing on the walls with lit fingers? When Jayne asked her last question, she is told the answer and that she won’t remember it when she comes back to her body. We are writing that answer on the walls of creation. Will we ever decipher it while in body? I think we are…

A clue? The joy is found in the treasure hunt of discovering in creation what you always knew in Spirit~

Ambrosia

Sydney Lynn Haupert-Lok1 Comment
See the source image
tasting love

What is this gift of creation to the Spirit-lands? What is this tasting that ingests, then alchemizes experience into a love fully realized? What is this love that dribbles down the chin, pooling deeply in the crevices of collarbones where it dries in the sun, a sticky, felt love that shows Love itself what it is…

Love tasting itself.

The Golden Bow Healing Movement Meditation

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WAHATOYA: BREASTS OF THE EARTH Courtesy of Jessicatarian Stayton
The Golden Bow Healing Movement Meditation

***This healing movement meditation can ease the symptoms from trauma, depression/anxiety and PTSD

***A gift from the Chrystalene Collective

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Tribute to Living Angels

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Photo by Cedric Fauntleroy on Pexels.com

~shout out to inspiration from Karla @ lifewithkarla928966820.wordpress.com

I went in for my first check up at Presbyterian Inter-Community Hospital and the doctor told me how she cared for many Covid patients there. She is a resident M.D. and my grandfather, Sidney Wolferman, a doctor himself, would be happy I chose to see a resident. She didn’t say much but her body language showed me how being with hospitalized Covid patients as family would be with them in their last moments had carved her into a Living Angel. She was a bit tired of being patient with me as she went over what I needed to be treated for as they were hum-drum compared to “need a ventilator, now!” stuff. And yet, here, she was treating me, caring for me, someone who got Covid but had not been hospitalized….I could feel how she wanted to tell me how INTENSE her experience had been but words could not come close so I sat there much like a stone that needed to expand to show her that I didn’t know if I could be as courageous as her, probably not if I were being honest. Coming out of lock-down is rough, not knowing if you will have to go into lock-down again and knowing people, 9/11 amounts of people are still dying weekly……everyone is so weary now and so much needs to be rebuilt and in a better way. I can only hope my doc sleeps in on her days off now.
 
“A human being does not cease to exist at death. It is change, not destruction, which takes place.” ~Florence Nightingale~