Month: December 2025

Farewell to my Belief-Prison

https://unsplash.com/@devaradityadd

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Farewell to my Belief-Prison

By Jane Tawel

December 26, 2025

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I woke up — gradually

And in pieces

And slowly, slowly

It dawned — 

That my comfortable belief-system

had become a prison.

All the other people –

Friends and family that I love

Beckoned me

through the prison-bars of their beliefs

to: “Come back. Come back.

You are wrong to leave the safety of confined captivity”.

Holding out their hands

They did not

could not

would not

See.

(It is rather frightening, after all,

to escape from a prison in which you are only

being held by your collective fears).

Oh, how I looked with love and longing,

Back to those I had toiled with in the fields,

singing our jailhouse songs of Grace,

and doing penance in our mixed-up views that Faith,

would one day set us free, and we would be home — 

Never realizing we were already free.

And we were already Home.

Here. Now.

*

Oh, how I knew and understood

My dearly beloved fellow inmates.

For while their prisons kept their outsides clean

Their innermost God-cups

were overflowing in dogma poop.

In our belief-prisons,

Our fat-fingers, smeared with holy and unholy oils,

Pointed through our imagined prison-bars,

Neglecting to see the beams

We had used to build our barriers;

Thinking that the shacks made out of splinters

that our neighbors lived in

were what had put them into debtors’ prisons,

(prisons not nearly so nice as ours).

And yet we continued to chant — 

Forgive us our debts,

(but God-forbid! — 

don’t make us forgive

those we have made our debtors).

*

And so, One Day,

When I could no longer recite

the same old lies that buried the Truth

in our entombing stories,

of resurrection for Someone else,

but never resurrection for our dead souls;

I stepped outside the prison’s Open Door

(and knocked over a small table in the process).

And while the fresh air was bracing

And my heart was absolutely racing

I kept inching forward

Step by step,

Led only by the millenniums

of a thousand pinpoints of Light.

*

Balancing precariously

on the Universe’s Bright Enlightened Beam,

and tiptoeing carefully

on the Cross-road had never been many roads

but only, always One;

I stumbled upwards and onwards,

Here and Now,

along the Narrow Way.

I do admit, I miss at times

the custody I mistook for communion,

and the finely decorated walls

I mistook for Creativity.

Oh, how I raised my hands in praise

and feeble offerings to those I once thought

were blinded by The Light,

(but in fact, were only blinded by The Might.)

I preached from within my prison

to those (I thought) outside the fold

of the security of my imprisoned-beliefs,

And in those comforting black and white walls

of the old prison I had long embraced as home,

I did get glimpses of clear Sky.

And I am still so very grateful

for the many dearly loved prison guards –

who had, after all, only tried to keep me safe

and who had, as even blind guides can,

opened my eyes to what had been born

and Who was eternally being Born

in the Heart’s longing for salvation.

But I am no longer sorry, even though still sad,

That when I stuck one small-Soul foot,

Outside my belief-prison’s walls,

the other prisoners shoved me

the rest of the way out;

for they could not bear to leave behind

their imaginary Maximum-Security Prison

and they could not bear to think

that I might find a Home outside their walls.

I do bear the stigmata of their hands

shoving hard against my back,

pushing me out and forward

like a blowing Wind

that one day, God may use beneath me

to help my wings grow strong.

*

And I have found that Now — 

and wildly, freely, only Here and Now — 

(and yet also, There and Then)

I have stumbling found

that we were born for freedom,

and that Salvation is only ever, True-ly grasped

by letting go

as Love leads us

further out, and out, and out

and further in and In.

*

I thank You,

Creator-Word,

For sparking a burning flame

In this small human being.

And for standing at the door

Of my imprisoned self

And knocking hard and long

(and also softly and in Stillness).

I thank you, All

My freedom-fighting and freedom-finding

many and yet One, brothers and sisters,

Who trembled and still tremulously shine

from different points of view and

different points of the One Light,

to tell the World

about a better Way.

And I join my small self’s soul

With All of Yours

as One, we journey on,

out of all

the crippling, darkening belief-prisons,

and onto the Soul’s Free Path,

the One I-Am of Truth, and Love, and Light:

leading, yet not leaving;

moving, and being moved-in;

out of this world’s incarceration

and In-to Eternity’s

Incarnation.

Here. Now.

Born in each moment,

And eternally in and among us.

May it Be. Amen.

© Jane Tawel, 2025

Heroes, Not Monarchs

Don Quixote — The Literary Hub

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Heroes, not Monarchs

By Jane Tawel

December 22, 2025

This is my poor attempt today to wrestle with some of the brilliant, enlightening thoughts of Joseph Campbell and Richard Rohr and of course, some of the great myths and stories of questers and seekers and heroes.

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We foolish mortals who think the prize

is in being a queen or a king

so we miss the boat

and we blind our own eyes

and mistake the Soul’s Odessey

for ego-trips and small I’s.

We search and we search for that one special thing

that will make us feel better than,

mightier than,

holier than

all those who make us feel weak.

And there’s no happy ending

cuz we always want more;

so, we blithefully live with our bane of the poor

cuz we’re merchants and monarchs

in our ivory towers;

and we dirty the water and trample the flowers

and give up the whole earth

for our fantasy kingdoms

Never counting the cost…

Never counting the cost….

Never counting the cost

of not finding the pearl of great price

that we lost.

*

We are called to be heroes

all on the same quest

where the least and the lost

are the first and the best.

We are not dragon-slayers

if true heroes we be,

but we’re slain by the Dragon

and our windmills are tilted

and our offerings are jilted

at the altar until

in our search for the grail

we just fail, fail, fail, fail

because only by losing, we win.

*

True heroes are questing

and searching for more

of the wisdom that comes from

not reaching the shore, but from

Battling the waves, and from floating Inside

All the Mind’s raging tides and

The Heart’s endless strife

as we paddle and drift on the currents of Life.

True heroes are longing

and never at rest

but at peace beyond knowledge or lore.

And they know that in less, they are more;

for true Heroes must journey

in darkness and doubt,

trusting Mystery will lead them Ashore.

*

The heroes in history have found on The Way

that the gate is too narrow for war.

And the heroes we treasure

knew the gift and the joy

of the greatness in suffering

and the love of the voyage

that will end not in conquering

or in showered in crowns,

but in Kingdom revealed

that looked once upside-down

based on monarchs, and money and might;

but when Heaven’s doors open,

Life is now shown to be

only Truth, Beauty, Love and God’s Light.

*

Our great myths are communal.

Our story is One.

And since Time has begun

Heroes’ fingers have pointed

to the True Truths Eternal

of all under The Sun — 

that our treasure’s internal,

Grace-given, not won.

And the Son is the servant

The hero — Our Soul — 

and we toil and we toil and we toil and we toil

not to win, but to die to the self.

Not to rule or defend,

but to die for a friend

and to love ’til the story

has come to The End.

*

Only heroes can know

that there’s no place to go

where the true joy in living

is given for free.

For the quest is the same,

both for you and for me:

The Quest is the sorrowful yearning of love,

but the end’s a Divine Comedy.

To be home in this place — 

Just to taste, hear, and see — 

All the Goodness of this one precious life.

There is nothing to harm us or cling to or flee.

Yes, a transformed-by-Love hero

is what God calls us

to Be.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025

A Letter in the Season of Anticipation

by Jane Tawel

unsplash freestock

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December 2025

Dear Friends,

I like traditions — well, many of them I do, (not a real fan of having a colonoscopy every 5–10 years, but I do it). This is one of the most tradition-full seasons of the year, at least in America. And yet, America and other kingdoms on earth are now undergoing, as never before perhaps, a time when traditions are being bucked to a rather outrageous and dangerous degree because truth and love are being bucked to a dangerous and insane degree. But one of my long-held traditions, as many of you have, has been writing a letter to friends and family that wish you felicitations for the season we call Christ-mas or Holy-days and to encourage you to have a good year in the next reincarnation of our calendars. And so it is this year, that I write again.

Sometimes I don’t feel like writing, especially when this season’s exceptional story of God’s Love seems so far from the religions and nations that claim it to be true; but I do appreciate all the traditions that try to keep this story alive — the nativity sets, the fragrant Ever-greens, the car rides to see neighborhoods decorated like electricity was free this time of year in honor of The Light of the World; the candy and cookies and sleigh bells ringing, the carols about Peace on Earth; and songs about St. Nick, giver of gifts to rich and poor alike — all the symbols that speak of joy and community; and of freedom, and kindness and generosity and care; of sacrifices for future generations and humble righteousness defeating power and greed for the benefit of humanity and the human good; and of love that has no barriers, no agenda, no judgement — because it is the love told and symbolized in the story of a helpless baby and his struggling mother and father. It is a Love that endures this life’s suffering and pain because of anticipated joy. I was incredibly blessed to go through the pain of child-birth four times, and let me tell you, there is nothing, no pain as agonizing as letting a new little human being struggle her or his way out of your body into the world — but the anticipation of going through that pain to the absolute joy you experience when it is over is worth every excruciating moment. I love that this season centers around that pain leading to joy because of love: the universal, very human story. As a long-time Literature-Geek, perhaps most of all, I love the symbols and metaphors and True Truths of stories and story-tellers that have those themes and unseen, but not unrealized, truths that transcend the place, time, and culture in which they were written and become ever-living testaments to what all humans seek and all wise ones find. And this season has some of the best stories ever written which can point us to True Truth — if we know how to listen with our hearts.

For me, though, the best part of this season has always been the anticipatory aspects of it; I love Advent. Traditionally, this year, my hubby and I gave all our adult kids Trader Joe Advent calendars. I have squirreled away stocking stuffer gifts from “Santa” and look forward to the family opening their stockings on Christmas morning (sometimes more like noon now by the time they can gather from their homes), and some of “Santa’s” gifts will be met with the surprise of “Oh, I love this!” and some will immediately mentally go into their “To be regifted later” pile. I don’t care; it’s the journey to the opening that counts. The house is decorated with all the traditional things in “hopes that St. Nicholas soon will be here” — the tree has ornaments the kids made in Sunday School, although some of the stars are missing a point, and the glitter ratio on most is diminished; I have the little ceramic table-top Christmas tree that lights up that a neighbor gave me years ago which reminds me of the one my Grandma Gladys used to have; and the nativity that my Mom gave me my first Christmas as a mom myself; and a ratty old four-foot stuffed Santa I have had since I was a one-year-old whose stuffed body has seen better days (as has mine, which is maybe why I like it so much). But my favorite tradition that I keep year after year, despite the fearful rumblings in the world, despite the personal trials or tribulations, despite my age, or despite the suffering of people I know and of those I don’t know — the tradition I keep despite any of that, despite my very own self — is the tradition of Anticipation. At odd times, like when I am doing the dishes, or lying in bed wondering if today will be the day the world’s insanity stops and we will all choose to turn it around in time, or when I am convincing myself that “yes, I do really want to head out at dawn again for my run”; or when I am snuggled up next to Raoul thinking about not a whole lot except how glad I am to have him with me all these many years and also just in this very present moment — sometimes — out of the blue — my heart will start pounding like a little drummer boy, (and at my age, you do worry when that happens); but then I remember — that is how one’s heart feels when there is a sense — not a thought — not a belief — not a doctrine — not a law — not a government instituted program — but a Sense — that something Good is coming. When the heart flutters like a butterfly taking flight, it is a sign that wherever and whenever human beings still anticipate that good things are just up ahead, that no matter how dark things may seem, that the Light of Truth will “Dawn” and that a Star will always dispel the darkest night, and that the truest symbol of all our truths can be found in the story of a mother giving birth to a New Life. When we can trust that the Heart of Love never lies then we can anticipate that tomorrow will shine forth with what a little baby-in-a-manger story teaches us — that Love wins. Love always wins.

Happy Advent: the season of the heart. May the stories of this season, and the examples of all those who came before us bringing truth, goodness, peace, and love, fill you in unexpected times and inexplicably joyful ways, with hope and peace — enough for you to give birth to your own renewed, and eternally-blessed Love.

May we live in the hopeful expectation that just around the proverbial corner, one day we shall have Peace on Earth and Good-will for All. May your hearts flutter at unexpected times with a sense beyond words, beyond explanation even, that God is Good and that we small, little specks in the Cosmos, we here and now and on-call-today human beings have what it takes to bring heaven to Earth, because somewhere deep inside, just like the story of heaven incarnated on earth in the manger scene, we each have the divinely-given desire and capability to Love. And Love always wins.

With Love and Hope,

Jane

A Ditty for “In”-Dignity-Out

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/@planner1963

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A Ditty for “In”-Dignity- Out

By Jane Tawel

December 10, 2025

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“You’re getting too big for your britches”,

I said to my ego today.

“You folly and flail;

You argue and rail

against pinpricks that get in your way.”

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An ego’s a wondrous invention.

It’s evolved us from primordial stink.

But it’s out of control,

both for me and for all;

bringing nations, religions and folks to the brink

of believing we are what we think.

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We’re killing the world with our egos.

We’re gobbling and gobbling it up.

Addicted to power and ever more stuff,

Numbing our conscience with shopping and shows — 

for the kind Gods to save us is going to be tough.

*

We often think ego’s validity

are the stories we use to protect

all the walls that we build

to enclose a false entity,

and the fears and the hopes we project.

But by armoring our outsides against our own hearts,

We unbalance our yang with no yin,

And we grieve our own Spirit of love, peace, and joy,

(which is really the ultimate sin).

*

Today as I went to the altar

where I worship the Me-ness of me,

I found myself groveling before all my thoughts

that swarmed like great howling banshees.

I felt all the shame of my past Mea Culpas

and the pain of vague future fears seared my skull so,

so confused by the conflab of my claptrap and woes

that I left my poor Gift at the altar and went

on a walk ‘mongst the trees and the sunlight.

I found my thoughts stilling and I finally sent

up a prayer to be free from the hold: strong and tight,

of an ego that battled True Truth and Clear Sight.

*

And with each little breath, Love’s peace silenced the din.

And I found, without pride, there was dignity-in,

not in-dignity-out of a life lived for me,

not in-dignity-out of my hypocrisy;

but the wisdom that comes not needing to “know”,

and from sensing inside I could be more than ego.

I can find Divine Self, if I only let go

and allow seeds of Love to flourish and grow.

*

So, tomorrow I may prove not to know how,

But today, to my ego, I say, “bye-bye for now”.

And I’ll walk in the Present and in Presence and Grace

and let go of the neediness in my cluttered mind-space.

I will walk step-by-step, doing all that I must

to embrace peace and kindness, and Heaven-bound Trust.

Mindfulness ruling ego, I feel myself freed.

Loving Self, loving Others, I am free here indeed.

*

Jane Tawel, 2025

The Lunacy of Them and the Big If

by Jane Tawel

https://unsplash.com/@yassermokhtarzadeh

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The Lunacy of Them and the Big If

By Jane Tawel

December 4, 2025

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The lunacy of the world escapes me

as power deranges the minds of the powerful.

I want to throw myself at their feet and cry,

“Why do you want to destroy our beautiful world?

*

The insanity of science alarms me

as knowledge plays with fire,

and smart men fly too close to the sun.

I want to shake them until their many brain cells rattle,

“Why do you want to eradicate human beings?”

*

The ignorance of religion deeply saddens me

as belief and dogma turn inwards

like ingrown toenails;

and snakey tendrils

eat away at the heart of faith.

They have set up their money-changers

at the temples’ gates,

and their egos masquerade as God’s truth.

They cling to victimhood,

ignoring the lives of their saviors and prophets.

I want to weep for them

as a lost chick for her mother hen:

“Why do you not keep seeking, seeking, seeking

when you know deep within you have not truly found?

Why do you not embrace wisdom and love

as you claim your Gods do?”

“Why do you seek ever more of

the temporal kingdoms of earth,

of nations that will dissolve into the sea as all nations do;

why do you settle for these

when you are offered the Kingdom of Heaven — 

shining cities on the Hill — 

and promised that all nations

would be blessed by you?”

*

The greed of the wealthy enrages me

as I walk past today’s lepers in the streets

and think of children — Children! — 

going hungry while the rich fly to Paris and back

for a cup of coffee or a McDonald’s from Spain.

I want to rob them blind and distribute their money

equitably throughout the world.

I want to take great handfuls of cash

and throw them at homeless encampments

and Trash Cities and foster homes.

I want to set the captives free

to raise families wherever they choose to feel safe.

And I want to find a cure for blindness.

And a cure for our lame excuses.

And make nests safe and trees healthy.

And heal the sickened land.

*

Today I saw myself in

that moment’s mirror,

and I was Narcissus looking back at myself.

Today I opened my scriptures and spiritual books,

and there was the mirror once more.

The Book of The Living and The Dead

opened its page to the story of Me

where my judgements of the world,

Revealed themselves,

and as in a mirror darkly,

my judgements of others

uncovered my true Face.

I saw in myself,

the many headed monster — 

It was I who was the hydra — 

Greedy,

Power-hungry,

Egotistical in self-righteousness,

Selfish,

Cruel,

Abusive of knowledge

Afraid of wisdom;

and prone to the insanity

of Me-ness.

And I thought,

I can not kill the triumvirate of Anti’s

or slay the evil in the world,

but I can crucify them in myself.

*

I long to see all the peoples of the world

joining their resources with the delight

in knowing that there is enough and always enough;

as together, no matter our color or creed,

we laugh at fear in the knowledge

that nothing Good is ever truly lost — 

not even in death.

May that longing, create in me a new heart, Oh, God.

*

I long to close-up my need to know

Like closing a trap-door that

Only opens to imprison me.

I long for all to open The Door

to The Way that is given to us to

multiply bread and fishes forever and

bring the Kingdom to Life.

May that longing for openness be mine today.

Create in me a new mind, Oh, God.

*

I long for that promised joy

that will come each morning.

And we will dance in the streets.

And the birds of the air,

and the lilies in the fields,

and the forests, and mountains, and seas,

will rejoice:

“Hallelujah!”

“Namaste!”

“We are Risen!”

“Amen!”

And all the earth and Her peoples,

Become the Holy Temple.

And all is One,

and we sing with joy.

Create in me, a new Spirit, Oh God,

that I may rejoice in Your Goodness and Love.

*

And as the prophet sang,

“You may say that I’m a dreamer,

but I’m not the only one.

I hope someday you’ll join us.

And the earth will live as One.”

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Oh, Great Creator-Spirit,

Whatever and Whoever You Are,

Mother and Father of Earth and Peoples

and of my small, weak, often-hopeless small self;

Holy Beingness above the me, the I AM ,

Timeless, Spaceless, Nameless One –

I pray once more the only prayer I know:

“Help me. Help me. Help me. Help us.”

“Save me from myself. Save us from ourselves.”

“Free our hearts and minds to trust

that Love will always win and

Love will always Be.”

“May we Be. One.”

And may this be my desire today:

That I may step by step

moment by moment

seek that within myself

that I wish to see in others.

May I use all I am given,

both in material things and talents

in thought, word, and deed,

not for my will, but Thine Alone

and Thine in Love of All.

May it be

that I shall not run towards judgement

but that I shall walk and not be weary

in The Paths of Righteousness and

in the faith of that which can not be seen

but can be trusted.

And as I wait upon the Change

that will only come in the world

as I seek to Be that Change;

may I have the hope

that through my own small vision-seeking self,

our Salvation is right beside us;

our salvation is nigh,

our salvation is here and always here;

our salvation, like a great treasure buried in a field,

is within our very own hearts.

In this world, may I

partake in suffering after suffering,

share in sacrifice after sacrifice,

Releasing of all holding,

Accepting of all happenings,

Faithful through all doubts,

Seeking without knowing,

Loving without acception.

And above all,

May I love the very enemies

of this beloved place and time

as I work to love them as myself — 

because they Are myself.

May I forgive myself today

as I forgive others.

And may I be like a babe in the womb,

knowing nothing, trusting completely,

safe in my Mother’s Love.

And one day I shall be reborn

to what I do not know

but I shall then, with joy unimaginable,

see My MotherFather as They Are

and we will be One once more.

*

Is it not true, after all,

as all the Wise Ones say,

that I create the world I see?

Do not all of my perceptions

come to fruition because I want them to

and therein lies the Lie?

If I seek that “kingdom not of this world”

that is this perfect world in Love;

If I keep my lamp filled

with the oil of anticipation

that the Earth’s Bridegroom will come

and marry our imperfect longing

to perfection forever;

And if as the Light that comes from God,

manages to shine through my mud-encrusted lamp–

and I know that I Am–

the light of the world –

Then “If” — -

Well, then…

What might Be?

What If?

*

I think maybe I’ll try it and see.

It certainly can’t hurt any more than it already does — 

Right?

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025