be still my beating mind

If your mind races out of control, there are 4 basic approaches that can calm it down:



1) Get away from the stimulus.

By removing ourselves from the source of stressful thoughts, we can get the space we need to decompress and re-center ourselves. This involves a manipulation of our external environment, which is not always easily under our control.


Examples: leaving the crowd, quitting the job, breaking up with the boyfriend, stopping reading the newspaper.


Problems: Sometimes there is reason for us not to leave. We need the money, the relationship is worth it despite some problems. In which case, the next three ways help us manage ourselves in whatever external circumstances.




2) Move your body.

When the body moves, energy that fuels thinking comes down into our body, leaving our mind clear.

Examples: Exercise, cleaning.

Pitfalls: We have to put 100% energy into moving our body in order to purge a thought. If we half-ass push-ups, or are distracted during sex, thoughts will hide in the part of our mind that abstains from the activity.



At the same time, if a meditative activity (such as walking or folding) is sustained long enough, we experience a calming effect that can help us increase our awareness and process our thoughts more clearly.



3) Increase your awareness

Becoming aware of our thought process can give us more power in relation to it. When we see things from a higher perspective, we can identify patterns, perspective, and appreciation that do not branch from the thought process itself.

God is the most common context used to broaden our perspective, reduce anxiety about a situation and forgive ourselves. However, many less overarching approaches can help us in the same direction.

Examples: Prayer, journaling, meditation; talking or thinking it out.

Pitfalls: Mental awareness usually relates to our physical energy level. Awareness can get us through moments of confusion or crisis, but for a more stable change in thoughts or in faith, we must also change our behaviors (i.e. via moving your body; see # 2).


Often, flashes of awareness help us to see positive changes we would do well to make. To maintain higher awareness, we must act to make those changes, consistently over time. (Tiger woods practices a swing 1,000 times for every minor correction).



4) Distract yourself.

A cut on your finger can hurt like hell, but you'll forget about it if the room behind you is on fire. When something important to us seizes our attention, the problems we think we have are reduced in importance.

Examples: Pouring yourself into work or a project, being faced with a crisis, helping those in need.

Pitfalls: This tactic can look a lot like denial. Be careful to consult your heart and distract yourself only to the degree that you truly want to forget about something. Sometimes, distraction can become compulsive, as in the case of addiction. Be careful to be aware how much and with what you distract yourself.



Note: In order for these tactics to work, we must have taken action all we can or is wise to do, and be at a place of wanting to interrupt the thought process itself in our mind. If we believe the problem still needs to be “solved?- and sometimes it does - then our minds will have trouble letting it go. The above tactics work only when thinking itself is the problem and we realize it is our minds that must be dealt with.

Cross V. Glory

theology of the cross

vs.

Theology of Glory

i know nothing of this historic church debate except that it exists, relayed to me by my an erstwhile theology major. Supposedly theologians have argued over the centuries between which better depicts Jesus' cosmic triumph. To my thinking, it seems each aspect is needed to help us in different times: the cross when we have pain or struggles, Glory when we are faced with the dangerous ordinariness of everyday.

cross:

loss, tragedy, brokenness

Glory:

praise, thanksgiving, celebration, everyday worship

cross:

strength when the chips are down,

toughing it through the tough times,

the power not to give up.

Glory:

the power to forge ahead on faith,

to have no regrets,

to believe in the path God has you on now.

cross:

reconciling pain

through the larger picture of grace

Glory:

reconciling the mundane

through the larger picture of grace

cross:

will serve me if I find back home she has not

left a note on my door...

Glory:

can serve me now, before I go home,

remembering God is with me

even if she isn't.

turkish submission

dark presence enter

but never approach

you leave him alone

the fear of you wakes him

it's after the dream

held from scream by paralysis

malice escapes while

your memory shakes him

***

exhaust and back sweating

from imperfect pride

now a dark hour¡¯s walking:

I passed on the ride

chagrin, growing weakness.

try walking less taxing,

that way that you learned

try imagining home,

just an hour returned

try praying the sweetness

so recent discerned¡¦

it¡¯s a walk

but its more

like a spiritual question

the answer we have

only three miles

to stalk

it¡¯s his dream

but its more

like a spiritual quest

for the power

the dark spirit

to rest.

***

with hands crawling climbing

his dreams finally culminate

reaching and ripping

his body from flesh

with a fresh chill to still

his soul deeper inside

he confides the discovery:

peace beyond reach.

=

this is

God¡¯s earth before me

not three miles ahead

but here in this bed

of imperfect turf

and I am with God;

my new home is anywhere

whole at the center

since three days before

when I took his advice

against reaching and ripping

my core; this hole

into which Christ could pour.

The blindness that calls itself Justice

Here are the brothers

who murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the coat

they bought with SSI

then forgot

at her house

after they murdered my Grandmother.

Here’s the nice stuff

that they took from her house

and then sold to get clothes

the night after

they murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the family

that watches the trial

of their sons

who murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the Father

who sucks air from a tank

who lets me go first

who humbles himself down

who looks grievous as I

cause he knows

his sons murdered my Grandmother.

Here is the talk

where I eavesdrop and hear

the Dad telling his kids

they can’t afford parking

cause they got towed before

so they can’t see the trial

of their brothers

who murdered

my Grandmother.

Here is my pocket

that holds a free pass

to the parking garage

because someone murdered

my Grandmother.

Here are the families, both of them victims: one family rich, whose pain is assuaged; one family poor, who gets no parade.

Here is the blindness that calls itself justice: helping the rich, ignoring the poor, though the money thing led them to kick in her door.

Here is the moment

where I hand my free parking

to the trembling hand

of the bloodshot-eyed father

of the boys

who murdered

my Grandmother.

the girl with lollipop eyes

the girl with

lollipop-eyes,

butterfly-lashes,

cloud-top laughter

cries about

the relentlessly cruel

people

she works with.

in a silent moment,

she will reach out in conversation,

to get burned by their callousness

again and again

Why do you reach? I ask her

A wild animal, trapped,

may call to your heart,

only to lash out

when you approach.

The animal is stressed;

your approach stresses it more.

So don¡¯t reach out:

you will get hurt

and now two need help.

Stand back,

it will lick its wounds,

and later, maybe,

you can free its leg.

You can grow strong

from a distance,

but you will never heal

through compulsive compassion.

¡¦¡¦

She thanks me for the metaphor,

¡°Do I pay you at the door?¡±

Ha, ha.

¡¦¡¦

I am also a wild animal.

On the surface, I smile, give good advice.

but get too close,

and I will lash out.

Those who have loved me

have learned the price.

They all leave,

bearing the scars

of hearts

once too open.

In this way,

one wound

becomes many.

My parents¡¯ divorce

teaches heartbreak

to an entire

generation.

so be strong, protect yourself.

ignore my pleas for help.

A wolf also has puppy-dog eyes.

Let me lick my wounds.

Before you offer me lollipops.

A Job moment

I’m passing out fliers.

What is this, the 15^th day in a row?

Door to door, up at four AM.

Why aren’t I feeling any better?

Usually I feel the energy by now. Body moving. Mood improving

Today I’m getting worse.

My skin hurts.

If this is the way it is, I may have to quit.

But I can’t quit.

I have nowhere to go.

I have no purpose outside this, not yet.

I'm not strong enough yet..

I’d sit on my ass again, body not moving, trying to dream up a job that means something to me.

When I was lying at home, searching, my condition got worse. My mind got worse.

I was losing hope in the world.

I know if my hope dries up, my spirit will give up.

Like happened in New York, before I got this disease.

That’s like the path to death.

This means something to me.

If I give up on it,

I’ll get worse,

I’ll probably need that transplant.

Maybe I’ll die.

Probably.

But I can’t stay. This will kill me. 17 hour days.

I’m stressed.

My acne is so bad I can’t turn my head to check the blind spot in the car.

I’m supposed to be learning how to take care of myself.

Why the fuck does this have to be so hard?

I’m angry. Fucking Angry. Damnit, why’s it so hard!

Wait. Who am I angry at? My boss?

No, he’s here, too. Around the corner, dropping a flier on the newspaper.

Even he doesn’t like this. He’s in some pain, too.

But we need more calls. So we drop more fliers.

Otherwise, we have to shut our doors.

I agree, this has to be done.

Wait - God. That’s it. I’m pissed at God.

God gave me this disease. He gave me this situation.

He gave me this yoga, this job as a way to heal myself.

He made it this hard.

It’s no one in the world. No one to blame.

This is my life.

God made it this way.

Fuck, my skin!

The shirt against my shoulders hurts my acne.

I feel the nodules getting inflamed, below the surface.

So many they push together now.

My skin is not flexible, it’s a sheath.

I’m stiff. I can’t move my neck to look to the side. I have to turn from the waist.

It hurt to put my head on the pillow last night.

I had to peel my open sores from the pillowcase this morning.

FUCK!

That’s right. I’m pissed. I’m pissed at YOU, God.

That’s right. I’m angry, and I don’t want to hear about it.

(…This feels good. I’m strong when I’m angry…)

Wait – can you be pissed at God? Is that against the rules?

Do you always have to be thankful?

…?

Job. Job did it. Job got pissed at God.

That’s right, Job was the good God-loving man.

He didn’t complain when God fucked him over. He just kept taking it, and taking it.

He said why me, but he never blamed God.

Finally some dude

came and told him

he wasn’t going about it the right way.

He needed to address God, “and let the waters flow” or something like that.

So he let God have it.

And that’s when God talked back.

If Job can do it, I can do it.

Yeah, I’m pissed God. You know it.

Don’t even come near me with any grace.

You just sit there and take it, cause I’ve about had enough.

I’m angry at you.

…At least right now. Soon enough, I know I’ll have to address you with a real question.

Like Job did.

But not yet.

I like being angry.

At least for a little bit.

Five more houses, maybe.

Five more houses, then I’ll see what you got.

…

….

…..

……

…….

Allright God, why me? Why does it have to be so hard?

Why do you put me through this? Why do you give me an almost impossible situation?

Rock and a hard place.

Either way, I feel like I’ll die. I really think so.

Why does it have to be this hard. Why does it have to—

-because you are meant for greater things.

you will do much more than this.

but you must grow stronger, first.

you are growing through this –

...

whoa.

..

…

….

Wow.

That makes sense.

Was that really God?

Wow, that really makes sense. I have to be here now. I will grow stronger.

Later, I will be capable of so much more.

Through pushing myself a little,

here and now.

Without this challenge, I would be at home wasting away. Literally.

It's a gift from God.

It’s all a gift from God.

The job, and the disease.

The rock and the hard place.

Without these boulders, I wouldn't have found the strong message from... God.

..

...

This isn’t so bad out here. The sun is shining.

And my back – it started feeling better.

Whoa, it feels good to relax. I’ve been holding onto a lot of stress.

It feels good to let it go.

It sure is pretty out here.

…..

blank slate

/to be read aloud:/


i walk when i think
so i speak with the movement
i need to move on
past the problems i drink

where does this life begin
where does a life begin
they tell me i'm a blank slate
tabula rasa - epiphany of my philosophy
society so developed
that it bred out its own soul--
Aryan, master race
what do we have to relate
privilege rides the backs of their struggles
but lifted from dirt and sweat
we lose our roots

identity afloat
society led on by those whose effects
always fall through the cracks,
scraps to be gobbled
by the mouths that lost track
of their own power to CAUSE

and we peddle our souls
for a piece of the soul we can't compose

but the blanket of racket
that rattles our mental blanks
passes us doin eighty
in our own 25-mile-per-hour zone
past country homes

we have a history but we just don't care
because yesterday's an ancient memory
and our struggles, given voice
might compromise our choice

give me something, scotland,
russia poland czechoslovakia
to know that my struggles began
before my mom threw out my dad
before dad's affairs,
before my acne scars,
before the towers took my faith
before my grandma faced that knife
something that tells me i've been around
my people started laying tracks
so i don't have to start from scratch

i'm a blank slate with stains;
the chalk line remains.



--composed by inspiration from Miguel Pinero,