I Wonder If He Chose Fishermen Because…. 

Slava Taukachou, justwaclaw — Unsplash

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I Wonder if He Chose Fishermen Because…

By Jane Tawel

March 26, 2025

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because they knew how to be dependent on what and on Whom they could not control. Fishermen know in each bone and fiber of their being, how like the Ocean, God truly is. They didn’t so much believe in the Ocean as try to understand it so that they could live; so that they could make a Living. Fishermen already knew that we are but waves tossed sometimes, and resting peacefully sometimes, but always just a wave in The Ocean. Fishermen know the Ocean is both Shadow and Light, Depth and Height, Uncontrollable, Unknowable, but Bountiful and Giving. “And this is how you should pray, ‘Our Parent-Creator, Give us our daily bread and don’t lead us into bad waters’.”

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because they knew how to suffer. It was not an easy life being a fisherman. Strong and steadfast fishermen would be the Rocks on which He would build. Hard to break, but the World would do its best. “In this world you will have suffering and tribulations”. “Take up your own crosses”. But he would teach them what they already knew a bit about — that by going through suffering, they would be stronger; that strength comes not from going around but going into the heart of suffering and in that way, “just like I have overcome the world, you will too.” Fishermen know a lot about storms, and they know enough to be afraid and cautious of them. But one day, these very fishermen would be in the worst, most dangerous kind of storm there is, and He would calm both the storm and their anxious, fearful hearts. One day he would show them that even when we are in the worst of Life’s Storms, if we keep our eyes above the crashing waves, going through, but not sinking under, we can rise above — we can walk on water. Now that was something even fishermen couldn’t anticipate.

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because they knew how to keep moving. They weren’t connected to one place so much as connected to the Ebb and Flow. He needed people who didn’t mind having to follow a trail wherever it might lead; people who could trust that if they left everything behind, something better would be up ahead; people who knew that Faith is really just Trust in what you cannot see, cannot know, cannot control, but that with a bit, just a little tiny bit of Trust, there is going to be Enough; and not only Enough but sometimes, there will be a Great Harvest. “And look up from your downcast eyes on your empty nets — Look at the birds of the air. If the Father takes care of these little beings, how much more will He take care of you?”

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because they knew the depths and they knew the heights. One day a good catch; the next day, nothing. Fishermen know you can be really, really great at what you do for a living and have lots of knowledge, but ultimately, having fish on your table, and money in your pocket comes down to a bit of luck and a lot of Grace. The wind can change direction just like the winds of Time. The fish just may not feel like biting that day — God knows why? Your line can break after years of useful loyalty. You might get sick or someone at home might and you can’t go out today. Life is like fishing, and you don’t have to tell a fisherman that. “And he couldn’t do many miracles there…” “This kind of healing takes a lot of prayer and faith, so tough luck on this one…” That’s the way it would go sometimes. Other times, “If you have the faith of an itty-bitty, little mustard seed, you can move a mountain.” Oh what a Guy for hyperbole! but then he lived within the Loving Hyperbole of His Hyperbolic Father.

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because they had already learned the practice of contemplation. When you are out on a boat with just your brother, there is a lot of time to think. If you choose to think about stuff, that is. But you can also just sit and meditate and pray. And real prayer is best maybe when you aren’t exactly thinking. And you don’t need fancy words to pray when you are out at Sea. “Thank you”, will do. “Help!”, will also do. “Your faith has healed you.” “My God, My God, why have you deserted me?” Dealing with real emotions can lead one to contemplation on the Real.

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because they knew how to listen. Oh, they didn’t know how to listen as well as He did, and He had to school them just like the school of wondering, wandering fish they all were. But fishermen better develop patience or they will starve and patience can lead to a wonderful ability to listen — to others, to the Ocean, to the Winds, and to the beating of one’s own heart and sound of one’s own breath. “Let them who have ears to hear, hear”. And they did.

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I wonder if he chose fishermen because fishermen like a tall tale and a good joke. What a sense of humor He had. If you were in the right mood and had the stomach for a good joke, He sure could tell them. In fact for a couple of these fishermen, when He called them, he started out with a joke: “Leave your nets and stop catching fish with no legs, and I will make you fishers of two-legged ones.” How they wondered then and later must have remembered that first humorous invitation with a hearty guffaw. And talk about tall tales! Yowza! That Guy could tell some whoppers! One day, He acted out a whole improv joke much appreciated by the fishermen in the group, when he turned two small fish into baskets full of fish to feed thousands. That was a tall tale of “How Big the Fish Was” that has never been topped! And on this note of telling tall tales? Well, His whole life was one tall tale of Mythic proportions. “Anyone who follows my Way will know IAM as Truth, Life, and The Way.” “This is my body and my blood. Take both, eat and drink. I have given my life in Love for you.”

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Yes, He had followers of all kinds, but I think in those first days, He realized that it might be good to Seed the Lake of His disciples with some fishermen.

Oh, that I might be reformed with the soul of a Fisherman.

And that’s just about enough said.

Selah.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025

I Hope to Start Living, so as Not to Be a Ghost

by Jane Tawel

Erik Muller- Unsplash

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I Hope to Start Living, so as Not to Be a Ghost

By Jane Tawel

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I am not in denial,

I just want to live.

And yet I choose death daily –

Not the good kind of death,

Not like the monks or saints — 

Not like Jesus’ advise to take up my cross — 

Not the kind of death that leads to Eternal Life.

No, I choose the kind of daily death,

that keeps me from being aware

of Where I am

What I am

Who I am

Why I am

When I am — because when I am

can only be Now,

and yet — Alas!

I prefer

the pains of the past

and the fears of the future

just of course,

in order to give my ego

something to think about.

If I didn’t prefer not to live in the Beautiful Now,

why would I keep choosing not to?

Without true understanding,

of Who I AM — 

I daily choose death,

because I choose not to be alive.

I am living as if I am already a ghost –

Haunting life — 

when I am called to be Soul,

Hallowing this world.

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If I blame or feel guilt about the past –

I am not living.

If I worry or obsessively try to plan for the future — 

I am not living.

The only time I can live in is — 

Now.

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Ghosts live in the past

and they haunt those present living

because they have no substance any more.

I am so often ghost-like,

haunting my life and the living,

insubstantial in the moment,

even though my body is still here.

When my body is no more –

will only a ghost remain?

Are we not told

by those Ones Who truly lived while they were here,

that the choice of what we shall be hereafter

is the choice we make of

what we are today?

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Ghosts fear the future

because there is no-thing of them in it,

there are no solid actions for them to take

in a time that will never come,

for Time never comes,

but always, only is Here. Now.

The hungry, anxious apparitions that

manifest within me,

the phantoms of my psyche

whose endlessly hungry, disembodied maws,

which I continually feed today

will disappear before tomorrow.

All their sound and fury,

signifying nothing — 

will Evaporate — 

Poof! — 

No Thing will remain.

Ghosts leave no trace.

Only meaninglessness remains behind.

The only meaning we ever have

is found only when we awake to

this precious, divine moment.

Ah, Breath of Life! How Good it is to taste and see!

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I woke up –

and realized that when we are told,

“The Kingdom of God is within you”,

It means we choose now –

What we are and

What we forever shall be.

And there is instruction in that.

And there is also a tiny seed of Hope.

Shall I live as a ghost or as Spirit?

In Spirit as in Truth?

In Spirit, IS in Truth.

And the only True Truth,

the only Truth that I can know,

is this hallowed Present, Precious Moment.

What I shall be is what I am.

Forever begins Now.

Shall I be a Holy Spirit?

Or continue as I am

and be a ghost?

The choice is mine.

While I yet live,

the choice is mine and Thine.

*

“Awake, my soul!

Make music!

Sing!

Awake, my glory!

I will awaken the dawn.

I will live a life of praise,

for steadfast Love

and faithfulness,

is great upon the Earth,

and reaches to the Heavens.”*

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“Every morning,

when we wake up,

we have twenty-four brand-new hours to live.

What a precious gift!

We have the capacity to live in a way that these twenty-four hours

will bring peace, joy, and happiness

to ourselves and others.

I vow to live fully in each moment,

and look at all beings with

eyes of compassion.” **

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“Stand by the roads,

and look,

and ask for the ancient paths,

where the good way is;

and walk in it,

and find rest for your souls.”***

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© Jane Tawel, 2025

*Psalm 57:8

** Thich Nhat Hanh, “Peace in Every Step”

***Jeremiah 6:16

The Endless Gift of Lavender

by Jane Tawel

Meditation 1 on Lavender:

Each day, I will seek to find at least one Good thing. Today, I have two: a gift from the Red Cross for something so easy for me to do but so Good. And a reminder of the lovely, lovely world on my doorstep. The beautiful (and my favorite) lavender was a gift from Clarissa, my beautiful much loved daughter. And it is a daily haven and heaven and gift for my dear, dear friends the bees.

Meditation 2 on Lavender:

Reminders in an attitude of gratitude and the Spirit of Presence and further meditations on the glories of a lavender bush: 1. The world is full of beauty, love and hope if “those who have eyes to see will see”. 2. If God provides for the little birds, how much more will we have all we need if we only need “just enough” — our daily, momentary “bread”? 3. Our five senses are the most amazing treasures — time for this child to learn to stop squandering them and enjoy all the present gifts they continually offer. 4. Birds and plants are just so cool and great.

© Jane Tawel, 2025

Free from The Beautiful Prison

Hasan Almasi — Unsplash

Free from The Beautiful Prison

By Jane Tawel

February 13, 2025

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Thoughts embrace me,

not as the lover that I think they are,

but as the ever multiplying,

tightening, restricting coils

of a deadly snake;

which in the end, and endlessly,

goes ‘round and ‘round and ‘round,

sucking out all my life, until it

Strikes!

And all my thoughts and

the “I” of me

will be no more.

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What a waste of Time

my thoughts have been.

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Words create and — Oh!

How I love them!

And yet words, when given

so much power

deny the True I AM.

Words create a false me,

deny the Real, and the real me.

So many words,

so little Time.

Words create barriers to my freedom to exist.

Why do we hate it so much when words escape us?

Why do we hold on to words that

we once thought belonged to who we are — 

even if they hurt us?

With our first word, “Ma-ma”,

we make our choice and in our last breath,

we regret words spoken and unspoken.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.”*

Words are lovely as they reach across

the chasms of our communication,

the hopes of our interactions,

the rallying cries as we come together.

Our words create stories that can keep us — 

safe and warm.

We are our own Scheherazade.

Words also keep us apart.

And as they spin

their endless tales of that which was

and fear of that which might be,

they create the webs which constrict

the formless, namelessness of Life,

like a giant spider

we weave and weave and weave .

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Oh, how I adore a good abstract word,

a metaphor, a sensory description,

a symbol!

Oh, how I long for words that make me feel

Loved, cared for

Seen.

But oh, what better joy

to live in the Spaces

to feel without words,

to Be.

If only I could escape my words.

Words — The Beautiful Prison.

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Wordless, Nameless One,

Accept my prayer,

with groans too deep for words:

Create in my, Oh, God — just…

Create.

Create me like a baby

with only cries and sounds of joy

to tell you how I feel

and who I Am.

No — Create ME, O, God.

IAM.

Let me be a new and emptied skin-clothed vessel,

ready for the new wine of ***

Being — 

unattached, unthinking,

with only this one thought –

of only this one Word — 

The Word from the beginning,

that was, and is, and evermore shall Be.

That Word beyond Thought,

Beyond Ego, beyond Me;

the only Meaning

that shall never, as I will, die.

“But I, in one short sleep past,

will wake eternally,

and death shall be no more;

death, thou shalt die.”****

Awake, My Soul! and be emptied

to be stilled by Holy Stillness,

and in peace, to live,

As One.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025

With many thanks for those whose thoughts and words are high above mine own.

*Robert Frost, “The Road Less Taken”

**The Bible

***Jesus, The Christ

**** John Donne, “Death Be Not Proud”

And along with these, thank you to the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh and Eckhart Tolle among so many others.

One Step, One Brick

by Jane Tawel

Lidia Nikole — unsplash

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In 2018, I posted a quote by that great “worker in the fields”, Dorothy Day:

The sense of futility is one of the greatest evils of the day.…People say, “What can one person do? What is the sense of our small effort?” They cannot see that we can only lay one brick at a time, take one step at a time; we can be responsible only for the one action of the present moment.

Reading this post of mine from a previous time of great and deep weltanschuaang (2018) and my quoting Dorothy Day back then, I remind myself that the feeling of futility or hopelessness is static and keeps one feeling incompetent to do the smallest things. And I am reminded that Mother Teresa said that not all of us can do great things but that even I can do small things with great love. And I believe that ultimately as Judeo-Christian wisdom teaches, “only three things will remain”: trust in Something bigger than ourselves; hope that, as that great Black Preacher, Martin Luther King said, “the arc of the universe bends toward justice; and Divine Love, available to all humans, Love that ignores ego and self-interest for that which lasts. And the greatest thing that shall remain, beyond nation, beyond “stuff”, and even beyond the self, and indeed, the only thing we can ever know of God, is Love. But even our deepest held belief is a fragile thing and it wavers with each storm, my friends. It can be very hard to see the light in the face of darkness, so each moment I will try to forget all the things I think I believe and I will simply walk forward, one step taken at a time, by the sheer will of a freeing Love. By going through suffering, not trying to get around it, we do find peace. One step. One moment. One small act of love. One hand reaching out. One at a time. 
 
 “Peace is present right here and now, in ourselves and in everything we do and see. Every breath we take, every step we take, can be filled with peace, joy, and serenity. The question is whether or not we are in touch with it. We need only to be awake, alive in the present moment.”
 
― Thich Nhat Hanh, Peace Is Every Step.
 
 “My peace I offer you too. Not the peace this world offers, but a peace that will pass your wildest imaginings, a peace that passes your beliefs, a peace that passes your understanding.” — Jesus, The Christ, 
 
 I shall take my responsibility in this present moment seriously, but I shall not look at the fortress of hate and greed being built against the True Truth. I shall mourn but not hate those who tear down that which others have worked hard to build, not seeing through their foolishness and greed and hatred the Good things — things of justice, and open-mindedness, of sharing and acceptance and care and kindness. I shall lay down my one small brick at a time in my own back yard, not as a wall to keep people out, but as a wall to support the vines of love that I choose to plant and hope to grow. I shall plant one small seed at a time, and trust that the Mountain will move.

Will I Stand Up?

by Jane Tawel

Peter Muscutt on Unsplash

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Will I Stand Up?

By Jane Tawel

February 2, 2025

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Will I stand up,

if courage fails?

If lies prevail

and all seems lost?

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Will I stand up

when others scoff?

When I’m cast off

as weak and frail?

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Today I stand

upon The Rock

and weep to see

a House once strong,

now willful, prideful

tearing down

its firm foundations

its Cornerstone,

erecting bent beliefs

on shifting sands.

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Will I stand up

when hope is torn

from bleeding Heart

from bleeding Hands?

No — 

I shall fall…

But I will raise

No flag,

No creed,

No weapon but,

The Banner of

God’s Love for All,

Yes! — “All!” I’ll cry,

with my last breath,

and though I can not stand — 

I’ll crawl.

*

© Jane Tawel

Crossing the Road on The Way

by Jane Tawel

heino eisner — unsplash

Crossing the Road on The Way

By Jane Tawel

January 26, 2025

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Resting my head on small, fragile hands,

too fragile to hold the world up.

What would happen if I dropped the world?

What would happen if I gave my thoughts 

 — Up?

*

Holding my heart,

pushing it deeper within.

Stunting or fronting true selves.

Who would I be if I opened the cage?

What would emerge if my heart was set free?

How much Love can a soft heart give?

Why, All the Love that there is.

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Embracing the shattered,

the least and the lost,

Inside me — 

but also in them.

How would I live?

 if I–

Stopped.

Looked.

and Listened……..

before crossing the road

On The Way?

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025

Fall and Flow

by Jane Tawel

Fall and Flow

By Jane Tawel

January 22, 2025

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Beginning — 

A bud appears on a dung heap

Beauty despite, beauty despite….

Somehow from garbage,

New birth.

New shoots reach up

from old roots,

Searching

Dreaming

Creating Hope.

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Stay small,

as small as you can be.

In this Un-brave New World,

find your courage in

laughter,

meekness,

small acts of kindness.

Become curious.

Be curious only about — 

What you can see

What you can smell

What you can taste

What you can hear

What you can touch.

Keep your focus on

What you can experience in this moment

and perhaps, what you can change.

Nothing but what is real for you

needs to intrude on your reality.

*

Use your fear wisely

and then fear not.

This is not the beginning of the end.

This is the end of yet another beginning.

Many have come and gone before

And for you, there is only — 

This time

This place

This now

This task.

Find those to whom

you alone can help,

find those to whom you

would do unto

as you would have them do

unto you.

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Herein, lies peace.

Trust that you can fight for right,

and stand up for Goodness

but only where you are planted.

Be a beautiful small flower.

The garbage is only here

to help you flourish and grow.

Let other people tend their own gardens

or wallow in their own dung heaps

as they will.

They are not for you.

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Endings…..

A leaf falls from a tree

A wave flows out to the Ocean

And dust returns to dust

Let go

Fall

Flow

And you will find where you have come from

and return.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025

Child’s Play Prayer

by Jane Tawel

Unsplash: Omer Haktan Bulut, Photographer

Child’s Play Prayer

By Jane Tawel

January 18, 2025

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Hi.

I don’t understand You,

and that’s okay,

but I know You are my Parent.

I knew You when I

was in Your Womb, Mommy.

I knew You from the first day

You held my weak and wandering

eyes in Your loving gaze,

caressing me with Your thoughts.

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I know how strong You are, Daddy,

because time and time again,

no matter how big I have grown,

You have lifted me up

on Your strong shoulders,

and held me in your strong hands.

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Forgive me for growing up

to think I had to earn your love.

Forgive me for thinking You could

ever love me less if You also

loved my brothers and sisters

just as much as You love me.

Forgive me for thinking

I could ever put Your Love aside

like a memento from the Past,

store it in a little box,

shelving with other books

I might take down and read sometimes.

Your Love is not a once upon a time thing.

Your Love is not one thing at all.

Your Love is One — 

not You. not Me.

I am Yours, and You are Mine.

Mommy. Daddy. Creator. Love.

*

You, Parent-Creator,

are higher than my highest thoughts,

and lower than my deepest desires.

Release me from want — 

from needing

from needing or pretending

to be an adult around You — 

an adult full of doing and thinking,

not trusting and resting

at peace

at home

 in Your Love.

*

Help me flunk my test today,

so I will relearn how to go out and play.

Let me be again

Be… again… 

 Your dearly beloved

Child.

Amen.

© Jane Tawel, 2025

Right Now, Right Here

Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

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Right Now, Right Here

By Jane Tawel

January 2, 2025

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So full of grief for moments past

So anxious for next moment

So bitter that this life won’t last

So rife with pain and mindless foment.

*

I wander blindly, thought to thought

Not seeing, hearing, tasting.

I miss what Is for what is Not

While precious Nows go wasting.

*

This morning as I woke — my dream

did linger in my consciousness

And for a moment, it did seem

I could escape this awful mess

of all the negativity that I allowed to fester,

and so, I set my mind to be an open-minded quester.

I realized what I called my life,

was really just a reverie,

but I had wasted so much time

in future fears and burdening memory.

*

I vowed this day to change the way

that I would think, and act, and live in

this precious moment — just that — no more.

No future fears — the past forgiven.

This Now, I will embrace, explore

with senses full, mean thoughts all emptied,

and previous ghosts of hopeless frenzy

I banish now from my True Being.

I’ll breathe. Take steps. True Self. Vast. Freeing.

*

As Shakespeare said: “Life’s what we’re dreaming.”

The Wise One said: “All comes in season.

As Jesus said, “No need to worry.”

And Buddha said, “Please stop your hurry.”

*

Hello, sweet Now,

I greet You anew.

The Whys and Hows,

I’ll leave to You.

My life is just Right Now, Right Here — 

This moment, — Precious, Treasured, Dear.

I open to the glory of

My Self as just a story of

a birth, a life, a death — and then?

One moment more — I wake — reborn again.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2025