Tag: Spirituality

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.

© Jane Tawel, March 31, 2023 My Mother’s and my children’s Gram’s once birthday

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.

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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.”

*

© Jane Tawel, 2023

Dust Motes

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust (NASA, Chandra, Spitzer, 03/30/10)” by NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

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Dust Motes

By Jane Tawel

March 18, 2023

*

Dust motes are quite beautiful,

if only I stop and watch.

I had nothing better to do just now,

so, I watched them, just because.

*

You may not have noticed — 

I know I did not,

but they don’t just fall,

they rise.

And there’s much to learn

from a speck of dust,

which took me by surprise.

*

You see, we are all just specks of dust

who eventually also will fall.

But taking the time to open our eyes,

and to notice our fellow dust motes,

I think we will see that quite often, we rise.

And does that not give the world hope?

*

Look deeply, my friend,

at all that might be,

right there, just in front of you, here.

The world’s full of magic and beauty and light.

The world’s full of wonder and hope.

And it’s there in those small acts that keep love afloat.

And it’s there right inside you, and inside of me.

If we just take the time and the care just to see,

there are sparks of light rising in every dust mote.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2023

Dust and Rain

by Jane Tawel

my window seat and rain

Dust and Rain

By Jane Tawel

February 24, 2023

*

Sitting here,

watching the birds in their feathered drab raincoats,

pick through the dust for worms.

The lovely, longed-for rain has come.

*

Yet I recall

that all and all is gone

or almost gone.

Faith fades like light in shallowed dusk.

And you have left,

and you and you and you.

*

And I will leave soon, too.

And this time, I will leave (I hope) for Good.

I’m sorry — please forgive me — 

that I so little valued Time

and little valued you, and you, and you,

’til all, or almost all, were gone.

*

Oh, what are memories,

but fallow, shallow-laid dust?

Yes, we are but from dust

and to the dust shall we return.

And one can only hope,

The Wind will carry us.

*

Perhaps The Wind,

The Wind of rain and dust,

will carry us,

to land upon the future,

and sting some other’s eyes.

Perhaps my dust will settle down,

to meld with other dust,

and rain will form us into mud,

to nurture living things.

Or might my dust,

light softly on my dear ones’ heads,

as off they tread to the party,

to dance and laugh

and remember sometimes,

that though we are but dust,

Love is what we’re made of, too.

*

Some say it’s never over;

that one becomes one plus One

to equal more than just this particle of dust.

And some can bide their Time

until the ooze of Earth has passed,

and Time is blown into Eternity,

like so much dust.

And some can find a way,

to shape dust into clay,

and mold the hours of now

into something worthy of Love.

*

But I am just a little thing,

not much at all,

not more than just this speck.

And yet I have been loved.

And yet I have so loved.

*

I don’t know much of anything.

but for today,

as I sit here,

the lovely, lovely, needed rain,

will have to be enough.

© Jane Tawel, 2023.

  • ** This past Wednesday I was able to partake in what for me is still one of the meaningful rites and “passages” in a lunar calendar, Ash Wednesday. This poem may have been inspired by the ancient teaching in the Genesis story and the beginning of profound humbling as to who we are and to what we can possibly hope for from a SomeOne/ Something that chooses to communicate to even dust. (Genesis 3:19: “And God said to Adam, from dust I created you and to dust you shall return.” ) 
Ash Wednesday, 2023

I Have Lived a Life of Fear

“Cobwebs” by Settle Snapper is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

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I Have Lived a Life of Fear

By Jane Tawel

February 6, 2023

*

I have lived a life of fear.

From fearfulness to fearfulness,

like spiders creating strong webs,

I can’t escape.

And often I thought it was strength,

my ability to turn my fears into action.

Often, I thought my fear was strength,

and often I thought I was in the right.

Webs grow strongest

when they are left in unclean places.

*

Fear has so many disguises.

Now a spider,

now a child.

I was once that child,

hiding and seeking;

a child who didn’t know how or when

fear appeared.

Fear hides among the games we play.

As we grow, the games change,

and fear can hide among all we seek.

*

Today I sat,

like a cat looking out my window

at the world.

And I tried for just a moment,

to let all thoughts die,

both the good and the bad,

both the anxieties and the memories,

both the hopes and the fears –

I had to kill them all;

I had to sweep them all out

of my corners and crannies and open spaces,

because I didn’t know which was which any more.

*

And suddenly, like a breeze that

blows away the dead webs,

and leaves only clean light,

my Spirit became more than a caged animal.

And for a moment, within me,

there was an altar.

And my body was a temple.

and on the altar,

I sacrificed my fears.

*

And the Temple of the Lord — 

my body, my mind, my heart, my life — 

was filled with the soft light of peace.

And I brushed away the cobwebs,

and let the spiders go free.

And The Temple of my World

was filled with joy.

And we worshiped.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2023

And On It Goes

On the Road to Joshua Tree by Jane Tawel

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And On It Goes

By Jane Tawel

January 20, 2023

*

And on it goes –

this life.

If you’re lucky.

And if you take

(and give and take),

well, then,

a little time

can go a long way.

*

There is nothing real,

nothing that exists,

that you do not create

for yourself,

but mostly that, and if,

you do create

for others.

All else is suffering.

*

Truth tells us truly,

that anything we make,

without love,

will never last longer,

than the span of our lives.

But all created  

with love is eternal.

*

Today, be love.

Today, be eternal.

Be what you were created to be—

an image of Creator-Love.

Real. Here. Now.

Love.

Life.

Forever.

And on and on it goes.

*

(c) Jane Tawel, 2023

A Meditation on The Man of the Hour

Homeless Jesus Statue and Homeless Person, Statue by Timothy Schmalz

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A Meditation on The Man of the Hour

By Jane Tawel

December 24, 2022

*

Christ did not come to Earth,

for he has always come

to those who wait, and mourn, and hope,

in that which Love deigns True.

*

Christ will not come again someday,

for he is always coming now,

to those who wait, and suffer, and hope,

to those who seek and love,

in mysteries and all they can not see

but that which all do long for.

*

Christ was not born in Bethlehem,

except he is born in us.

Christ did not die on Calvary,

unless he dies today in me.

Christ did not rise to live again,

unless today he lives and loves and lives again

in life eternal starting Now!

in life eternal starting now in me.

*

Oh, do not worship temporal gods,

They have no hope for you.

And do not worship gods with names,

for you must find the name God has for you.

A name is written on a stone,

a white stone, pure and true,

and there you’ll find the name of Christ,

that God has given you.

*

Our hope is in The God of All,

The Great IAM, The One, Creator,

Parent of a man named Jesus,

who once did live to show The Way to God.

The Way of Christ is more than fairy dust,

and more than Santa Claus or even angels tell.

If you would follow Christ, the man,

then know his plan was to rebel,

against the tides of time and governments and yes,

even the surest shores of your religions –

all will turn to rust.

*

There is a truth in this dear season,

in which we gladly, foolishly give,

all of our treasures to the ones we love.

There is a way of hope and reason,

that’s imaged in the true myth of

a babe born once in history.

But Christ comes daily not to keep

our vision turned behind us or before.

He comes as someone that I see right now,

in persons struggling, lonely, fearful, lowly, poor.

*

Yes!  There he is! Appearing as Star Light today,

in newborn, old man, woman, friend, and even enemy.

Christ’s coming! Yes, I see him there —

in you, in her, in them—

Oh, let me see The Christ in even me!

*

Christ breaks through as The Morning Star

that heralds God’s real presence,

in even those with empty hands, like Christ was born in Bethlehem.

Christ did not come and never will he come again someday.

The Christ is not alive at all unless I walk The Way.

*

Oh, Parent-Love-Creator-God, help this small child of Yours,

to be the Light, and walk upright,

and live the love and hope and faith

of All it means to come as Christ in me—

yes, please Dear One,

be born in me, today.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

An Essay on: What Does Their Reality Have to Do with Me? And Why Do I Let Myself Think About It?

“mountain” by barnyz is licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 2.0.

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An Essay on: What Does Their Reality Have to Do with Me?

And Why Do I Let Myself Think About It?

By Jane Tawel

December 10, 2022

I often tell my students, before you try to write the answer, find the question. And the important questions are always, “How?” and “Why?”. I read a lot about what, in shorthand, I might call “spiritual and life-quality improvement” books. I read theology and metaphysics and spirituality manuals and Sacred texts and philosophy and psychology and good novels of course. There is nothing like a well-written novel to teach one something about human nature and about what one might call the eternal cosmic laws of nature and human nature. But if you read anything along the lines of these genres, you may agree that good books mostly raise important questions and the answers are fluid. Answers are like streams and rivers, always flowing and never the same at the same place twice. Questions are like a Mountain Range. They have always been there, and always will. Every day, we look out from our perspective and we may change every day, but the mountain still stands before us, immovable like God. And no human has ever climbed and conquered all the questions and none of us can conquer them for the next person. We get caught up in the temporal questions that have no ultimate meaning, like “What? How much? When? Who?” But these are not the questions that lead to Life’s great anwers. The Big Ideas and the true meaning of what I am doing on this little blue ball always come from “How and Why?”.

Today I was reading about changing my thinking. This is something I think more of us can relate to after living through a pandemic. We had a lot of time to think and it wasn’t always pretty and it wasn’t always fruitful. Perhaps you, like I, got into the habit of anesthetizing our thinking and perhaps you, like I, got into the habit of thinking about things that weren’t real. What I mean by “not real” is that one often gets hit with a thought about someone or something and its negative impact goes in like a sharp arrow. And as Thich Nhat Hanh so wisely points out, for some reason what most of us do is refuse to remove the stabbing thought-arrow and we just shoot second and third and fourth and one-thousand more arrows into the same wound, over and over and over again by thinking about it. As I wrote in a poem called, “Do Not Let Them In, They Are Not Here”, we allow the negative thoughts of others to take up residence in the rooms of our Mind-Homes much more easily than we do the positive, loving, good memories, lovely moments to find a home within our Mind-Homes. And so, the question is: Why? Why do we do that?

Maybe you are like I am, and like a long line of the people in my genetic pool and in my current family and friend circle are — we keep thinking about the negative or hurtful or confusing or unloving or mostly SCARY things that other people do in our lives and in the world, because we have convinced ourselves somewhere along the way that if we could just figure out WHY they did that, or said that, or think that — then we would somehow UNDERSTAND. And we convince ourselves if we could just understand then we would stop thinking about it. What we really mean of course is that if we could somehow just confirm and convince them that they are WRONG and we are RIGHT, THEN we would be happy, at peace, have a positive attitude, etc. etc. etc. Our thinking so often goes, “If I figure it out, I could change them, it, that, her, him.”

So here is the “How” question: Haven’t I learned that the only thing I can change is myself, my thinking, my heart and soul; so HOW do I change myself?

And the Why is obvious — Why change me? Because I want to be happy, fulfilled, unafraid, not angry, positive and healthy and hopeful and free.

I read this today: “You demonstrate the state of your mind at any given time. You experience in the outer what you really think in the inner.” Jesus, who knew his sacred texts well, believed this: “As a man thinketh so is he.” And he acted on that time and time again in his own mind and heart and life. What a great example of being a fulfilled human being, Jesus could be if we would let him. His ministry was to heal people basically by convincing them of the truth of that statement. “Because of your faith (mind-set, heart-set, soul-set) you are healed. If you have faith (inner health, harmony, and freedom) you could move a mountain.” Our inner self is our reality. So why (there is that ultimate question again) do we muck it up with junk and crap that isn’t here? I am going to use a strong word in this next bit that I never use but if you have followed me so far you know that this is exactly what some people do to us and what some situations feel like to us:

It is sadly and far too often the case, that I cannot prevent someone from shitting on me. But I can stop myself from wallowing around in their shit. I can hose it off and walk away. But far too often, when something bad happens to me or someone I love, or someone is mean or hurtful or evil (and if you don’t believe in evil, well….I don’t know what to say, but evil can enter even the most normal or religious of us. For good information on that read M. Scott Peck’s People of the Lie and well, The Bible is good too.) So …. Again, sorry for the strong word but “Shit on me once, shame on you. Shit on me twice, shame on me. Shit on me a thousand times? — Why am I still letting my own thoughts do that to me? Why?

I worked a very stressful job once at a “Christian” place. Most American Christian places I have worked on, well…. God have mercy. But at this one I was so stressed after a year I thought I was having heart issues. The doctor assured me I had a heart as strong as a teenager and it was just panic attacks. If you have ever had panic attacks, there is no “just” about it. Panic attacks are the body’s desperate attempt to show us that our worst enemy, however he or she may choose to appear as anger or hate or righteousness or — our biggest and most virulent enemy is — Fear.

I had a dream during those years. I was walking toward the auditorium with all the other employees and there was a big hole in the ground — a sort of chasm really. I fell into the hole and when I clawed my way up out of it, my beautiful suit and high heels and panty hose and all of me, head to toe, were covered in mud. I kept walking with the other people toward the doors of the auditorium and here is why I still remember that dream — the astounding thing was that no one noticed I was covered in mud. No one noticed.

We don’t do we? We don’t notice each other’s pain. We aren’t willing to look in the mirror and see the real reason we keep feeling our own pain. And God forbid we feel guilty about the pain we cause someone else. So, we pretend we aren’t all wallowing in the dirt and mud. Because if we did, we might reach out a hand or pass around a clean cloth or offer to baptize each other in the healing pool of forgiveness and love.

The real reason we obsess about the negative things people do to us or with us or sometimes, mea culpa, because of us (I too am guilty of grieving the Holy Spirit), is not because we want to understand them, or even because we want to be right and prove them wrong. In our hearts we all know that being right is a fleeting joy and like those bags of chips or cases of beer or Netflix streaming shows that we all over did it with during the pandemic, being right will anesthetize the pain for a while but we have to keep the anesthesia flowing and eventually its efficacy wears off. We all know those people (often ourselves) who have become so needy to always be right that they will insist they are right even if they are quite obviously wrong. It would be funny if it weren’t rather sad. But isn’t that really what we are doing when we keep convincing ourselves we just want to “understand” or we just want to keep thinking about something because we want to make sure we are “right” about the situation? Why are we so afraid to admit that even being right does not bring us peace? Why do we not want to live with inner peace and love more than we want to “figure out” the answers? Wouldn’t I rather live with joy and peace and love of self and others more than I would to live with an endless, pointless, hopeless search for the wrong answers to the wrong questions? Because even if I know them, the answers for someone else’s reality will never make me feel at home with the questions about my own reality.

Today, I think I found my Question of the Day that may help me write my life-story’s next chapter –

Question to self: Even if you do in fact “see them” for what they really are, what does their “reality” have to do with your reality right here and right now?

And if my answer is, “Nothing”, then I need to rinse myself off, pick myself up, stop wallowing in the shit that isn’t here anymore, pull the arrows out and throw them as far as I can throw them, walk away from the things that I use to mask the pain and fear, and free myself from the prison with no bars to keep me in it. I need to find why I am still alive and breathing and seeing and hearing and talking and loving — -

HERE.

NOW.

JUST BEING.

ME.

“Yesterday is gone and will never return. This is the day that the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.” (Psalm 118)

“Get away from me, ‘Satan’.” (Jesus)

“Flee from evil and do good, and dwell forever. For the Lord loveth judgment, and forsaketh not his Saints: they shall be preserved forevermore: but the seed of the wicked shall be cut off. The righteous men shall inherit the land, and dwell therein forever.” (Psalm 37)

“Oh, it’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood. So, let’s make the most of this beautiful day. Since we’re together, we might as well say: Would you be mine? Could you be mine? Won’t you be my neighbor?” (Fred “Mr.” Rogers)

Today, I will focus on the thoughts that I choose to be my neighbors. I will live with good neighbor-thoughts and I will only open my heart to the loving thoughts and ideas of goodness that I want to live within me.

Today, I cannot prevent a thought from arriving at the door of my mind, whether a fear for the world in which we live, a hurt from the past, or a desire for something that is not ultimately good for me or for those I love. I can, however, after opening the door to that negative thought, say, “Sorry, you may not come in. Sorry, your appearance is useful only in reminding me of what is important. Sorry, you hurt me once — see the scars? But you cannot come in and reside with me now; you may not hurt me now — you are not here with me in my reality. Even if you are here outside with me, I will not let you in here, inside the temple of myself.

Today, I will love myself enough to start anew — clean, free from fear, full of faith that the Universe is a Good place to live in today and that it is my job to protect myself from evil and harm and then to, in love, protect all others from what I can — outside in the world, and from within my own heart and mind.

Today, I shall feel all there is to feel and not anesthetize myself from that which can teach me to be a better human and to live with the great cosmic natural laws of God. And when any of those feelings are scary or hurtful or cause me anger or fear or greed or confusion, I will ask:

Why?

And I will know I can live within the question because someday, I will be what I have always been meant to be, and I shall see The True Reality, Face to face.

And all will be well with me today and forever, in the Kingdom on Earth as it is meant to be in a The Perfect Cosmos of God and Humanity. Amen.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

The Question Tells Our Stories

“Open Book Policy” by Alex E. Proimos is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0.

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The Question Tells Our Stories

By Jane Tawel

December 2, 2022

*

The young are ensnared,

by the Questioners,

who with all good intentions intact,

nonetheless, trap them

and grade them,

and release them into the world

thinking that the questions are:

What?

Who?

When?

And many never learn that these questions

have no ultimate worth

and will never satisfy.

For that which we all long for is — 

a story worth telling

a story worth listening to,

a story worth living.

*

And all of us,

may be ground down

by those who lead

the inquisitions of

banal things,

like education, and politics, and religion.

We who educate the young

still believe we can teach them answers.

Have none of us learned yet,

that all that matters

are what questions we learn to ask,

and live with?

How few of us learn,

that all of life’s prompts,

are asking each of us,

all of us,

to answer only — 

“How?”

and “Why?”

And few of us learn or know

that when we ask

the real questions,

that even the questions are unclear,

But that living with the right questions

will lead us,

and we will lie down in green pastures,

near still waters,

in peace

with the questions.

*

Oh, yes, many of us still seek

what we think to be written

in black and white.

And we foolishly walk in halls

constructed by Whats and Whos

and made crooked with straight lines

and covered in moldy, dead pictures

of dead saints and deader patriots.

And we live lives afraid of our own stories.

And we must hate and fear something,

so, we hate and fear the stories of others.

And we keep chasing whats and whos.

As if they were real.

As if they could last.

*

Listen to the elders speak.

“Oh, Our People –

when human stories are no longer told,

and we no longer look at each other

awed by the mystery,

then the heroes have failed

and the protagonist has died,

and the antagonists of the Story,

and the enemies of meaning and longing,

have won.

But they too, silly fools,

will have no victory in death.

*

Oh, we must remain awake!

We must keep turning the pages;

pages written only for us

in this place, and this time.

We must keep searching for the themes,

one by one,

eyes open

past our bedtimes

times that would turn out our lights,

and leave the Story unfinished.

Oh, I am learning to live

in the mystery

that all Good Stories must have,

waiting to gasp at the surprise ending.

For we know not

of what we are made of now,

but one day, we shall be revealed to be,

not what we are,

not who we are,

not what we have been;

but Why we have been,

and Why we have lived,

and Why we will always be.

*

Oh, My People,

when we stop telling each other our stories,

and listening to each other’s stories — 

Well, that is when the Story of humanity

and of our beautiful earth,

will end –

*

Oh, My People,

Tell your stories.

Tell them to whomever will listen.

Tell your story

in your bedroom,

in your office,

in check-out lines

and empty pews,

and protest marches

and wherever you are

and with whomever you are with.

And when you tell your true story,

and listen to another’s true story,

Why, then –

whatever you do

that you think is important

will be revealed

to be a lovely, peaceful little nothing at all,

compared to the True Story of You.

*

Oh, My People,

Learn your story.

You are not a what

Or a who

Or a when — 

You have come through your story, thus far,

by learning to ask “How”.

And if you haven’t already,

You must now be brave enough

to ask yourself, “Why?”.

And then write

just the next moment of your story,

that is all your story needs,

the next word,

the next line,

the next action

that answers your “Why”.

And then you may write

one moment more,

and that too,

will be the answer.

And by asking the write questions,

You are asking the right questions.

And you are turning the page,

on another day to become closer

to the Story’s Awesome Ending! — 

and the answer to Why.

“Here am I, Oh Why. Send me.”

*

You are an arc, a radius, a point,

in the Awesome Circle

we sit in together,

telling the Story of Why.

Take part today in the Circle of Life.

*

And in the questions,

that your story,

and his story,

and her story,

and their story

ask with words whispered,

with proclamations shouted,

with songs sung;

the questions,

written large and small

with nubby pencils,

and leaking ink pens,

and sticks on cave walls,

and bindings both new and old — 

in the questions pulsing

like living hearts outside a body,

in the stories of yourself and others,

and all of humankind — 

you will find the Living Mystery,

that some call “God”,

and some call “Meaning”,

and some call “The Answer” — 

but all of humankind calls — 

“ The Why”.

*

Oh, My People,

There are only two stories to be told.

One is loss.

And the other is –

Love.

Loss is the story of How.

Loss will guide the protagonist’s steps,

if allowed to be the catalyst to change.

But the only story worth

keeping on the top shelf of your thinking,

and the locked vault of Memory’s library,

and passed from hand to hand

in the circles of our gatherings;

and kept safely, next to the bed

to be read again,

and with parts memorized

for telling when the nightmares come,

or our sleepy children snuggle close,

or an old worn out body breathes its last;

the only story to be cherished

and told and retold and told again,

the story that is no respecter of persons,

but available for free,

always for all of us;

the only story worth living for,

worth dying for,

worth trusting in;

the Story with the real Ending,

that will never, never come,

but that will go on into eternity,

Why, that Story –

the story that answers “Why”,

is the Story of Love.

Oh, My People,

the only story that when told and retold,

never grows stale or boring,

the only story that is worth sharing,

again,

and again,

and again

is the Story of Love.

*

And Love will always,

Always — 

Always — 

Be — 

Forever…

The Story that answers

the only question worth asking:

Why?

© Jane Tawel, 2022

*

*

I lived among the books and things,

and rode the merry-go-round.

And as I reached for the golden ring — 

Why — suddenly I found

that Life is not a carousel

that I did have to ride,

so, I slid off, so I could tell,

of what I’d found, before I died.

Oh, Children, do not hop aboard,

this world’s illusive wheel.

Instead, trust what you feel,

to be the Path your soul reveals.

For it’s within your very own,

dear self that you will find

a true and loving peaceful home,

for heart, and soul, and mind.

You must be brave.

You must be modest.

You’ll find The Path,

most strange and oddest.

But you will find around each bend,

our joy in journeying never ends.

*

© Jane Tawel, 2022

Forgivin’ is Livin’

by Jane Tawel

“Fake Bird, Real Sky” by Daveography.ca is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0.

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Forgivin’ is Livin’

By Jane Tawel

November 19, 2022

*

Forgive my assumptions

that lead me to doubt

that You have guided and gifted me.

*

Forgive my forgetting

the times that pure Grace

was all that protected and lifted me.

*

Forgive my instructions

that force You to choose

whether Your will or my will is done.

*

Forgive me the most

for the things that I boast of

while neglecting it all came through grace.

And help me, today,

to walk in a New Way,

that one day, We may stand face to Face.

*

Forgive that I choose

to be lazy or greedy

and to live in a life based on fear.

*

May I do what is hardest,

and forgive me, Myself;

to stop looking outside me,

for there’s nothing to right me,

but the Love that’s inside me,

and has always been here.

*

Forgiving is freeing

You, you, and you.

Forgiving is seeing

that all that is True,

is Faith, Hope, and Love—

all the rest will be past,

and all that will last,

is whatever I’ve given

to bring to earth, Heaven.

Oh! “for-givin’” is livin’

in Eternity now.

*

“Go, now, your sins are forgiven. Which is harder to say? Your body is healed or your soul is healed? You have forgiven yourself in the same measure that you have forgiven others. Forgive yourself as We forgive you. Forgive, and Live.” (Paraphrased from The Wise One)

© Jane Tawel, 2022