been in the works...

I believe God is in everyone, and to know God, we must find the divine within ourselves. Jesus said "The kingdom of heaven is within you." (Luke 17:21) John calls it light. Relating to each other, and walking in light IS our spiritual act of worship AND it is the means of our salvation. Walking imperfectly in the light of the blood and flesh of another, and yet recognizing the divinity within each of us, cleanses us from our toxic shame and guilt and the hell we create for ourselves on our own. 

To love God is to Love yourself. That is not an invitation to narcissism - it is an invitation to care enough about yourself to better yourself, to care for yourself, to feed your soul, to nourish your body, and train your mind. AND then you must love your neighbor AS yourself

THIS is following Jesus, forget the doctrine and tradition, there is no other way. 

I never would have learned any of this had it not been for someone who met me where I was.

Love is a thing...

Love is a choice insomuch as you water
the grass that you want to be green.
Most of life goes by with us trying
to be whole before we can love.
The unexamined life is not worth living,
but life without love is life without beauty.
The key to intimacy is to plough through difficulty
and emerge together.
That is not neediness or lack of boundaries
it is divinity in me and you recognizing
the divinity in the other.


Tears, Heart broken 

For the pain of another. 

And they push away 

The love that intends
To find a way. 

The ache makes you heave 

As you try to breath

Gasping for air, why 

If not for some cosmic purpose

Are we compelled to care

We say all kinds 

of stupid things

Defending our pride

Grasping for love

Hoping to be seen

Real Beauty hurts

It burns and brands 

The beholder

There is no escape 

But to sear off the heart. 

I will not do that

I will feel and I will falter

I will grasp and cling

Ache and burn

Because someday love will claim me. 

Meditation of the heart

Broken hearts destroy 

the good people 

that we in more naive times 

romanticized we’d grow up to be

We numb ourselves 

protectively from love’s sting 

forgetting all the while 

that we did not choose our feelings 

penitent for the crime 

perpetuated on us 

by our own heart 


could never live up 

to its own reputation 

but heartbreak 

more than makes up 

for the slight 

and we in isolation 

long for other 

that longs for us 

passion interrupts 

and we call ourselves fortunate