Jane Tawel

If-Only’s, What If’s, & Now

by Jane Tawel

“Doors” by robynejay is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

If-Only’s, What-if’s, and Now

By Jane Tawel

May 24, 2023

The “If-only’s” stuck inside

create a life-time of regret.

We become unaware

that we have created our own unhealthiness —

Re-gretting. Re-griefing.

Re-gurgitating.

And we bring it all back up,

again, and again,

like bile, like vomit,

like hiccups that never end.

We drink the dregs left from the past,

and our insides ache,

but we keep sucking it all down,

and spewing it all out again.

Like carbonated bubbles,

we keep burping back up past wrongs.

Heart-burn as choice.

We come close to letting go,

but step away,

as if the perfume of freedom,

freedom from the past,

is too heady a scent,

too strong to wear now.

We re-fuse to re-alize

that all of us must leave

the past at the altar.

Kick it to the curb.

Close the door.

Re-lease ourselves,

from the past,

once and for all.

If-only we could leave the past at the altar,

the altar where we forgive ourselves all,

in the same way we forgive others, all,

we would never look back.

We never would look back.

We can never re-turn,

but we can, with re-joicing, re-pent.

Repent! which is just another word

for turning around and turning a new leaf,

and turning out our pockets,

where we hoard past judgments.

We re-place the thoughts of yesterday,

With awareness and love of today.

We can stop.

We can re-fuse the refuse of the past,

in order to sit still,

to be,

in order to walk ahead.

Living with the “What-ifs”,

is not a life of hope;

it is a life of fear.

“What if this happens?” “What if I don’t — ?”

“What if she does — “ “What if they — “

“What if?”

Fear of tomorrow,

is a cornered animal,

a dream spent in anxiety

about the un-real.

And the fears

that multiply like choking weeds in my mind,

kill the living garden trying to grow

within me, today.

The worries pound,

like a headache at the door of my heart.

And I bring them all in,

“Make yourself at home.”

And they crowd in like an unruly mob,

fighting for my mind’s inattention.

Trying to gather the slippery slopes,

the thoughts of the future,

is like trying to grasp and hold on to

wisps of smoke.

I peer ahead, through the mists of what-ifs,

blinded by them to today;

they blind like smog, like fog.

Seeing but not seeing,

imagining but not knowing,

wishing but not hopeful.

My mind is a shimmering chimera,

real only to my doubts of what is true,

what is real and true, only in the now.

I look at what-ifs,

as if they exist,

but it is like drawing funny faces on a mirror,

faces without humor,

and I look at my reflections,

as if the reflections are myself

and not an image I have created out of lies,

for things that may never be,

are as much lies, as things that were then,

but are no longer now.

Only the present is Truth.

Why do I imbue the present time

with so little valued meaning?

Why do I keep my accounts from the past?

I have already paid them in full.

Why do I invest in days and hours

that might never be?

The soul cries to self:

“Rejoice! Today, you may yet live!”

Today waits for no man,

and yet it waits for my embrace.

Today’s possibility

stands knocking at the door of my life,

as truly as my heart knocks against my chest.

Spirit whispers, a still, small voice

that calms the storms of yesterday,

that blows away the cobwebs of yesterday,

that comforts the whimpering fears of tomorrow,

that sings to rest, all that should be laid to rest.

The Voice is not heard by the mind,

but speaks to our spirit, our hearts,

as only true feelings, true love,

can communicate:

“Behold, Love stands at the door and knocks.

If any one opens the door,

Love will come in to her, and they shall feast together —

eyes, ears, smell, touch, taste — feasting.

Present.

Being.

Loving.

And if any open the door,

Love will abide with you

and together,

right now,

you will find peace.”

Love is the Ocean. Jump in!

by Jane Tawel

Love is the Ocean. Jump In!

By Jane Tawel

May 19, 2023

They say in heaven there will be no more seas.

And I thought, “That would be a loss.”

Until I realized all Truth speaks metaphorically.

There is no need to see an ocean or a sea,

if you are in one.

There is no need to dip a toe in the waves,

if you are one.

Love (or God, whichever you prefer to call Her) —

Yes, whatever you want to call the Power of Life,

that which powers all Truth,

that which lives in all Living things,

that which loves all, because it eventually is All —

This force in life, this force in each of us,

calls us to live life fully,

freely,

truly,

joyfully,

completely,

whole-ly,

peacefully,

at One.

God-Love is not for someday-somewhere.

Love is for you today, and when you have love,

you can love. You are love.

When you become aware that you are only filled with love,

you become a wave

in the Ocean of Love.

A wave may ebb and flow,

but that is just a wave’s way of becoming something else,

of becoming something reborn,

as every drop of water does

when it is in The Ocean.

Every drop of Love becomes something else,

when it is in The Ocean of Love.

And so, nothing that is Love ever dies.

Everything that is born of Love remains;

love remains rebirthing as Love, forever.

Do not be afraid of jumping headlong into the Ocean of Love.

By loving yourself and others, you live in Heaven on Earth.

Jump in. God is Love. Jump in. The water’s fine.

Today heaven comes to earth,

not when we stand on the shore and look to some distant horizon,

but when we humbly and bravely acknowledge,

that we are loved. We are made only to be love.

And just as an Ocean can not exist without the waves,

so too, the waves do not exist

unless they are part of something greater than they are alone.

A wave is created in the image of an Ocean,

and we are created in the image of Love.

We can only be ourselves, when we love being ourselves.

Love yourself today; without you, there can be no Ocean.

And love all others, for they too, are waves, and without them,

there can be no Ocean.

Be a wave at One with all Life’s waves,

for the Ocean is the waves, and the waves are The Ocean.

We are but waves in the Ocean of Love,

and someday, even if we shall be no more,

The Ocean in which we live, shall remain,

Forever.

Someday, there will be no more seas to conquer, no ocean to fear,

no depths, nor heights of tides or time to scale or suffer.

Today we can enter into what will one day be only and all,

A Kingdom on earth as it is in Eternity, where only Love exists.

Jump in! Feet first! Hands out! Eyes open!

The Water is Good.

The Water will hold you.

Jump in with me.

And we shall have no need to watch the tides or times,

for we shall be as One,

eternal,

in the Ocean of Love.

Returning True Self to True God

A poem by Jane Tawel

“Primordial” by Patrick Gensel is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

Returning True Self to True God

By Jane Tawel

May 4, 2023

I lie down in fear and awake in fear,

the fear of not being enough.

I stumble over the thoughts that trip,

the memories or doubts that trip me up.

And then I sit by my window sill

and quiet my mind and my wandering thoughts,

and then — of a sudden — my soul is stilled

and I close my eyes and open my ears

and the symphony of life in the trilling birds

returns my true self to me and true God.

We’ve made up so many false theories and prayers

about gods and their communications.

We fight for our gods for religions we’ve made.

We confuse our gods with our own nations.

We love to make gods who require so little,

or a god who’ll judge others with no chance of acquittal.

We’re so busy in judging our foes, friends and peers,

unforgiveness returns in our own hellish fears.

We believe in a God who will angrily choose

to send us to heaven or hell,

and we don’t see the life we are living right now

is already a hell or a heaven in which we now dwell.

Look around. Stop death’s fear.

Quiet down. God is near.

Be at peace. Don’t ask how.

God is Good. God is here.

God is now.

There’s a God Who’s as close as a song in the dawn,

as close as the stranger I meet.

There’s a true God, as present as our doubts and our hopes;

there’s a God Who’s alive in every heart-beat.

There’s a God Who is playful and full of deep joy.

There’s a God who is born anew in each girl and boy.

There’s a God who cares nothing for our theology,

for God’s too busy loving us — loving you, loving me.

There is not a God Who’s at a distance above.

There isn’t a God causing judgment or fear.

For how could that be? When God is only True Love?

For how could that be? When God is right here?

My thoughts go in circles and fearful formations,

when I think that I know or am knowing.

But if only I find peace and awe in creation,

then there’s only real Love to and from me that’s flowing.

The poet sang, “Be Thou my vision, Oh, God,

here, yes God, True God of my heart”.

Oh, Be Thou my ears and my hands and my eyes.

Be Thou within me today and tonight.

Be only Love in me, for me, and from me.

Be True Love only, for eternal life.

Be my True God, with no knowing required.

And may only my true self be God’s true heart’s desire.

I first heard this song by Mary Gauthier, called “Mercy Now” on some Australian series I can’t remember the name of now. Love the words, love the song. Someone might need to hear it right about now. Remember, we all need a little mercy now and then, and we all need to offer some mercy now and then. I think if we looked deeply into Life, we would see mercy written throughout the world, from the tallest mountain to the deepest ocean floor, from the soaring eagle to the crawling caterpillar, from the highest official to the smallest child. We all need a little mercy now –and forever. And I think, if we open ourselves to it, we will find it and then give it.

Hold on to Doubt

by Jane Tawel

“Run wild, run free” by Images by John ‘K’ is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

Hold on to Doubt

By Jane Tawel

April 22, 2023

“They are not allowed to judge you,” I tell myself. “Not anymore.”

“Not then, not now, not ever,” Truth says to me.

“I allow them to judge me because I had, I have, no faith,” I say to Truth.

With Her reply, Truth holds my breath, and I feel my heart has either stopped or is racing:

“No, you are wrong,” Truth says.

“You let them judge you because you had, you have, no doubt.”

“Doubt what they told you and what they tell you about the world, about what is real, and most of all, about yourself. But above all, do not believe what you yourself tell you about yourself.”

And now, the judges, the liars, those who meant well, and those who loved me most, they all appear within the hurricane of my thoughts, tossing judgements at me like cast-off clothes that no longer fit me.

Truth appears within the swirling thoughts and forces me to look only at what is right in front of me.

“What you do not realize,” Truth whispers, “is that their judgments, just like constricting, mismatched clothes, have never fit you. Neither are your judgements suitable for them or you. Do not follow the fashions of emperors in any clothes that mask the naked truth. Tear them off your body and be naked in the wonder of how you were wonderfully created. Remove the hat of lies that tightens around your head, constricting thoughts of freedom and truth. Step out of shoes not meant for walking long distances in comfort and let your toes and heels feel the earth and know that even what you think is solid ground, is just a symbol of what always moves below, above, and within your very heart, and soul, and mind.”

I felt the urge to free myself, but stopped once more, to turn to Truth and ask, “But how then can I ever know what is real?”

Truth receded from me but with a smile, She asked, “Are you sure you need to know?”

And so, I began to seek doubt. To let myself immerse myself in doubting all I thought I knew. And when my thoughts rose up against me, claiming their rights, claiming their importance, claiming that I needed them, I gently shook free of them. I pried myself free from the lies of knowing, the lies of judgement, the lies of fear; and from their grasping, gasping, gawking specters, I began to run, to float, to fly in the freedom of doubt. And in freeing myself into doubting all I thought I knew, I found a little inkling of what was always truly meant by faith.

“You are not real,” I tell my thoughts, my judgements, and my fears. “But I will take you, nonetheless, and make and mold of you something useful. I will take the lies and judgements and fears; I will take the thoughts and feelings and wisps and whispers, and all that I imagine to be real, but which are only symbols of The Real, and with them I will create only beautiful things. Beautiful things for others. Beautiful things for me. Beautiful things for Truth. Because that is what real human beings do.”

And now, let Us create something beautiful.

And Truth stepped aside in hope that Wisdom would stay awhile with me. And as Truth left me here, just here for a little time longer, She gently sung:

Only Love is real.

Missing You

Photo by Jane Tawel

Missing You

By Jane Tawel

April 19, 2023

As I sit here, trying to wake,

I’m still in shock that you are gone.

And all of you is gone,

and you and you and you are truly gone.

Oh, the missing of you is a beating stone,

a beating stone within my chest.

The tears still rise like foreign tides

moved by a grieving moon, adrift without her sun.

I hold the remembrances of you close to me,

clutching them like a tattered blanket, full of holes,

unable to use even your memories

to keep me warm in these cold blistering times.

Each day I sleep-walk through the now,

the past, a figment tiptoeing just behind.

Until, at night, I lie in bed

and wrap myself in my arms,

imagining you are with me still,

as near as a whisper.

I let my pillow dry my tears

and wait in hope,

to dream of you.

Acceptance

by Jane Tawel

“Sudden rain” by Brintam is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

Acceptance

By Jane Tawel

April 13, 2023

Listening to rain, in the still dark morning.

And yesterday, a card came, not too late,

to wish me happiness, and so,

with a bit of habitual misgiving,

I accepted.

There is nothing to do

but accept.

And so, I turn to you

And say, “I accept you,

whatever parts you can give.”

I turn to myself, and say,

“I accept myself,

for what I was (I think),

for what I am (I imagine)

for what I may one day be (I hope)”.

And now I must accept,

that this is the time

and this is Time,

and this is all the time

that we can know.

No one owns Time,

not even God, Who, outside of,

beyond, incredulous at our missed-perceptions,

further out and further in of All Time,

the Yes, still offers us Eternity.

I can’t hear the rain anymore.

It must have stopped.

But I will try to remember it,

as I go about a day,

not my day,

but God’s,

not my day, but yours and theirs,

not my day, but ours, for a time,

and we are God’s too.

Just as the rain is,

this day, this hour, this time,

is just a passing gift,

a gift to me,

a gift to you, wherever, whoever you are,

a gift to help things grow.

And I, like all seeds,

planted in the Earth,

pray to open to the world.

“Create in me, O, God,

a longing to grow and open,

for just this little time.

I bless, You, for the rain.

Create in me, O, God,

acceptance.”

Auschwitz, America, and Jesus on the Cross

“Easter at Taizé” by Maciej Biłas is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

Auschwitz, America, and Jesus on the Cross

By Jane Tawel

April 8, 2023

My title sounds kind of like a long string of swear words, doesn’t it? Maybe all swear words come from the cry of the heart to understand and the realization that gosh darn it, I just don’t understand and never will and that makes me crazy. So here is a rapidly written improvisation on thoughts that go way, way down deep inside of me and a reflection on the season and my choice of how to spend the Big Day.

Please do not think that in any way I have the ability or the right to speak about the horrors of the Holocaust or the experience in history of being a Jewish person. I do however, hope to be a person who tries to “come alongside” others in what makes us different and what makes us have the commonality of being human beings. I have also spent a long life trying to understand a religion that began honorably as the religion of the Hebrews or Jews, and that has morphed into a religion based supposedly and almost solely on the experience and life of one Jewish man named Yeshua, Joshua, or now known as Jesus.

There are far better scholars, historians, theologians, and mystics than I who can write about Auschwitz, America, and Jesus. But tomorrow I hope to spend what will be for me, the strangest Easter day I have ever chosen to spend. Tomorrow I will go spend the day in which others are celebrating spring, and chocolate, and the idea that one man conquered death, by rising from a grave; and I will spend it by visiting the world-renowned exhibit, “Auschwitz”, now at the Reagan Library in Southern California. Yes — I know, your head just went — POW! Your mind is exploding with just, like, okay, wow — so much to unpack there, Miss Jane.

I will spend tomorrow at a presidential library, that is a super wonderful place to go to look through a historical lens, and my husband and I have enjoyed learning much at the Reagan Library among other museums throughout America and the world. But let’s be clear, on the other hand, our American monuments have been created in honor of a nation of exacerbating excess and ego and power and greed as only an uber-capitalistic nation can be, and as, if you look to history and any spiritual teaching, all nations are prone to go, more or less, sooner or later.

Tomorrow, I will be looking at the truth of the horrors and evil that humans can do to other humans in the name of nation or religion and the underlying reasons of power and excess and ego and greed, and I will do that while the world celebrates a man who was crucified by a nation and religion dedicated to power and excess and ego and greed. And I will have to look deeply within myself at my own proclivity to “sin”, my desire and use of my own human tendency to deny who I am created to be and who all of us were created to be, and instead act on my own dedication to power and excess and ego and greed. My own evolving worldview continually throws up at me that there can be no “hostis humani generis” (enemies of mankind) if there is no acceptance on my part of mea maxima culpa (my own most grievous fault).

And what I hope is that as I desire more and more to live a life of Rising, a life of Resurrection to the Divinity in myself and therefore, in each Child of God; a life that dies to the excess and power-needs and greed and false sense of ego within myself; I hope and yes, pray that I will glimpse that there is a Life that is the opposite of all those things because True Life has no need of them. I honestly believe that deep down, to riff on the famous quote by the dear suffering, murdered Jewish girl of the Holocaust, Anne Frank, that “people are really truly longing to be good at heart.” I want to believe that every one of us, really only desires a Life without fear or hatred that is eternal, full of Truth and Love. And I hope I will find tomorrow, in the remembrance of a horrible, horrible thing that humans did to others humans, and the despair I feel knowing it happens again and again in my world, over and over again and is happening in my very own backyard now — I hope I will also remember and as those who suffered most at Auschwitz say to “never forget”, that there is also, even in the darkest of times, the darkest of days, the darkest of hopes, there is always a remnant, there is always a person, there are always those who Rise above and create in themselves that which Jesus created in himself, there is always a harbinger of Light. Today, may you accept, may I accept, this assurance from Jesus, “You are the Light of the World. Let your light shine”.

May I, who so often, fear there is no more light at the end of this tunnel, know that, though the tomb may be sealed and death may be certain, there will always be just enough, just enough of us, to keep the Divine Light of the Human Spirit Alive! And that that Holy Spirit will always find a way to Rise above. Tomorrow I will choose to suffer with those who have suffered the worst that a human being can suffer. I will remember the Jews of Auschwitz and those others who are “different” according to the Powers that Currently Are. Tomorrow I will let my heart and mind suffer with those who suffered for their belief in a God Who is their One Truth, The One Love, The One Who Saves. I will honor with my small little day upon this Earth, those Jews who suffered as the descendants of a man named Yeshua /Jesus. Tomorrow, I will come to pay my respects to those who also had to suffer the worst that a human being can suffer for their belief in One God, a god above all others, a god above all nations and other powers that would fear the power of Love. And tomorrow, on a day that we celebrate the Risen Spirit of Salvation, I will pay my respects to the Jew, Yeshua, called the Christ, who was a single little human being who in his fight against nations and the religions who worship the power of nations, in his fight against the false gods of excess, greed and ego, conquered them all by simply dying to all of them, and rising to a whole new existence and a whole new awareness of what it means to be a Child of God.

May I, as I look upon the cross of Auschwitz, know what it means to “take up my own cross”. Yes. I must choose, in much smaller ways every day, to suffer with others, to suffer for what I have chosen wrongly, and then to know that we all have a choice every day — to stay in the tomb, to stay in the suffering, or to Resurrect to New Life.

May all the faith and love and goodness that lies within you today, be resurrected to the hope of salvation and the assurance that eternal life is yours to choose in Divine Love. Today. Let your light so shine.

Remember

by Jane Tawel

Remember.

Six times a year, our family lights candles for Gram, and for Grandma and Grandpa Tawel. Birth and Death. Life and Love. Remember all who have come before you and made you who are.

The Hebrew Bible is full of loving reminders, admonishes, and encouragements to Remember. The God that appears in the Genesis is One Who would like us to believe that He/She would like to be remembered and that we can nudge Him/Her to remember us when we are in need. “Hello, here I am, YHWH. Remember me?” “Why yes, but don’t you think, little human, you might have forgotten something? Me. Here, IAM.”

Next week two great faith traditions begin a season of remembrances. Passover, when we remember the God who “delivers”, the God who “saves”, the God of covenants of love and mercy and commitment. “I am the LORD. The blood will be a sign for you on the houses where you are; and when I see the blood, I will pass over you. No destructive plague will touch you when I strike Egypt. This is a day you are to commemorate; for the generations to come you shall celebrate it as a festival to the LORD — a lasting ordinance.” (from Exodus 12)

Next week we remember a Jew named Jesus who celebrated that covenant with the God of his ancestors by reworking it so that people in a new time and new place could evolve a new understanding and begin to understand what internal, psychological, personal, spiritual salvation and deliverance might mean for them, and then could spread that new understanding of what we humans were created to be out to the whole world in love and rightness and peace. “And he took bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, “This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me. And likewise the cup after they had eaten, saying, This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. (from Luke 22)

It is hard for me to look at what these great religions have done in the name of remembering that same God and continue to do in a false sense of who we are created to be, as nations continue to rise against nations and as people use a God’s name to do what we keep hoping that very God won’t do to us — judge, hate, neglect, diminish, etc. Sometimes it is oh so hard for me to remember that God longs to see us restored to the wholeness with which He created us and so, I pray, “God, help me to remember that You are good. That You have created me for good. That there is goodness in the world and help me remember that You have not forgotten the people here. Remember us, Oh Lord.”

Today, I encourage you to light a candle, literally or metaphorically to all that you have that is worth remembering and honoring. It may be that you need to remember that YOU are worthy of honor today. Today I am remembering and honoring my mother and next week my family and I will light a candle for my mother-in-law and throughout the year, we will remember and light candles. Lighting candles not to lead them home, because they are already Home, but lighting candles to lead us Home.

Remember not just those who have given you so much in the past, but remember all you have to be grateful for in this very present time, and if you can, remember that tomorrow is another day and you do not need to carry today’s burdens any further than when tomorrow begins your life anew.

Remember all the love. All the Love.

Remember the ancestors and despite it all, despite them and their mistakes, despite us and our wounds, we have each been given enough. We have been given enough and we are alive for a reason. Honor those who have given you life and then forgive them and forgive yourself. Be at peace by being sure that you have inherited enough goodness, enough strength, enough love, enough of what you need and enough to share a little with someone else. Remember you are enough, however small you may feel your portions are.

Remember that today, you are able. And when you are not able, look for the helpers. Remember there are helpers out there in the world. Remember that you are stronger than you think and loved more than you know. Remember that no matter what you face, no matter how you feel, there is always hope, hope in what we may only vaguely remember from when our spirits were created. Remember that today, there is a Spirit of Love that wants you to believe — today you are loved. Today, you are love.

And remember — the children will find their way; they will find their strength; they will find love and faith and wholeness and health. They will. They really will.

Remember the future. And believe, that despite it all, the children will learn from us and they will learn better than us. The children will ask God to remember them and the Earth, and they will remind God to remember us, to remember that She loves them and loves the world She created. The children will seek and seek and they will continue to find the old ways and new ways. And the children will find The Way. We will find The Way that has always been, if we remember. The Way, that is here now, if we remember to look for it. The Way, that is up ahead, all across the universe, if we remember that we have enough if we have just a little candle-flicker of faith and hope and love.

Remember.

A Psalm of a Child’s Lament

by Jane Tawel

“Gallina con sus pollitos [Hen and her chicks] (Gallus gallus ♀ + pichones)” by barloventomagico is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

A Psalm of a Child’s Lament

By Jane Tawel

March 26, 2023

And as we look, under narrowed lidded eyes,

with hearts made heavy by hate and fear,

we fear that each of us, alone, or with our few,

are helpless.

For fear and hate are the same thing,

and now, oh, heavy-hearted, helpless headed, I fear,

the whole world seems to want to de-evolve.

Nations look to gods whose time has passed.

People rage and flail against those who might have been a brother.

All come down upon the women who might have been mothers;

might have been if only someone cared for the babies they bore;

might have been if only their nurturing love had not so often

been raped

by those who think power

is a type of holy matrimony/patrimony/schmatrimony.

Incarnation has been a willing victim of climate-change.

And the Little One,

who asked to be birthed in every single one of us;

The Child still offers up His life to us and says,

“If you let the kind of God that lived in Me,

live in you,

the True You will be reborn.”

The Child looks at his barren womb, the World,

and weeping, cries,

“How I long to gather you to me,

as a mother hen gathers her little chicks.”

But without a peep, the world seems to give up.

Instead we fight battles against what we could change for good.

Instead we play foolish dangerous games,

trying to return to a past we never knew

because it never existed.

Nothing has ever existed outside our own good selves.

And having given up Goodness for false idols,

we don’t know what story to live.

And the world lets go of Truth and Love,

in the name of gods who don’t care

about what we claim They created.

It would be silly if it weren’t so horribly sad.

And the human beings have given up

with a deafening roar of silent uncaring.

Our Creator weeping, turns away.

He can’t stand to look at us any more, in our pain, Her pain.

He can’t stand to see us picking at scabs,

that She has so often offered to heal.

For God never once imagined, that when He birthed us from His womb,

that we would think we were born to live in a Place elsewhere.

Why would a lovingly created creature,

hope to live again somewhere else?

Why long for somewhere “out there”, when

This Place, here, this Earth, these creations, these people,

were created in beauty and truth and caring and love?

Why look for perfection elsewhere, if a Perfect God

created this Perfect World for us?

Why hope to live in Heaven, when Creator said,

“And it, this world We made

this planet and all in it,

they are good.

It is all Very Good.”?

Perhaps the God we say is Good,

is birthing Goodness elsewhere.

But has not God left us in charge?

Does not the Universe still call?

“Oh, ye of little faith!

Regard the mustard seed,

the sparrow, and the grain of wheat.

Believe that you are not alone in longing.

You only need to take one prayerful step

into the Grace of Hopefulness.

Light your small lamp and know

that all is Possible.

For even in this dark time,

where two plus two awake,

Infinity is born.”

Perhaps the Heroes of Old will be reborn

and their rusty swords will become plowshares,

tilling the earth back to health.

Perhaps the great female warriors,

who have saved the world before,

will arise,

and mother us all to wholeness.

Perhaps the God we say we put our hope in,

is still hopeful.

Perhaps She hopes, like a Little Child may hope

that Her paper dolls will come alive.

Perhaps the Divine Parent

is crossing the Fingers that made this world;

fingers crossed that we, His dearest children,

will still take the plunge, and be reborn.

Perhaps Creator One, still believes in us;

believes that we can heal our Land;

believes that we can love each other;

believes that we can bring Heaven to Earth

as we were entrusted to do.

Perhaps there is still a smidgen of Divine Belief

that lions will once more be at peace with lambs,

and that we humans will look around and see —

there is enough for all of us.

And we will look at each other without fear,

because we will have re-created God’s world,

and we will say, “It is good. It is very good.”

If today, in this small being I call myself,

if there is a grain of hope that I can be a part,

then like the little fledgling that I am,

I hope to purify my longing heart.

Let us be gathered under Wings of Love,

to safely brave the elements of war,

and may I, even I,

someday say with all the hope a newborn has,

“Let there be peace on Earth,

and let it begin with me.”

by Jane Tawel

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by Jane Tawel

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A poem by Jane Tawel

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by Jane Tawel

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by Jane Tawel

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by Jane Tawel

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