Who Am I Compared to You

Allium, Solomon's Seal, and white violets?

Blue as God and so many ways to follow Her heart. Affectionate awareness whereby one must ask, is there congruence?

Sleep every two hours or so until 6 a.m., yet waking to sunlight makes it feel doable. I'll finish prepping the garden that may never come to be, but it feels that I am being asked to be present to the work, so here I am, Lord.

Each year on the corner of the house a lacy dogwood blooms despite its sickly countenance. Each year I say, “you're not dead,” as if some sort of benediction and it says back to me, “neither are you.”

With the sunrise in my throat this morning, a feeling of contemplation and monasticism called with an invitation. It may be time to enter a certain thinness. I know I don't need to be holier or more devout. I wonder if this is an ego trap for me. Why do I always feel that I am running away from the abbey?

Mary Magdalene visited before midnight so I stayed with her as long as I could. I asked her, “who am I compared to you?” To which she answered, “who am I compared to you?”

In the distance heavy machinery is in reverse. Beeping cuts through birdsong, far off barking dogs and my own questioning spiral which has the sound of a rushing creek.

Maybe this is not a distraction from suffering but a way through. Must we, though?

The prophet says: bring the light.