Rising from the Ashes

For image credit and to upload the phoenix image here as wall-paper see the link at the bottom of this entry.

The road unfolds before me but I barely see it.  After days of trudging through the desert, this morning finds my mind full of words.  I am awash in a flood of ideas.  My fingers clutch the steering wheel more tightly as the feathers of a mythical phoenix flutter down before the lens my imagination.

I think of the city in Arizona.  I shake my head to clear it.  Flames rise up and turn my soaring symbol to ashes.  I think of Ash Wednesday and of rising again.  My phoenix rises from the ashes and soars into the heavens.  Quickly, I am thrown back to earth.  I think of all the problems plaguing so many people, so many of those close to me.  I think of the problems that plague myself.  A desperate prayer escapes me.

“God, help us rise above the ashes.”

There, in the van, just about to enter the 49th street rotary, all cars impatient on their commute, God takes me above the ashes.  I know that this sliver of euphoria will not last.  This truth makes it all more more exquisite.  And, for a few mystical moments, I am granted the gift of knowing.  It is a knowing that resonates within every part of my being.    Here is what I know:

” All these problems will be healed with Love.”

It is not a limited human love but LOVE, a pure, God-given gift that holds all our lives within it. I blush to admit this.  It feels sickly sweet, bogus, simplistic.  It’s part of a chant that flower-children living under the trees in Golden Gate park sing when they checked out of life and tuned into God-knows-what.  It is the verbiage of religious rhapsody.  I am not comfortable here and yet I love this place.

Few things feel as right as resting in LOVE here and now.  The cold, damp, troubled life that got out of bed with me this morning has slipped the surly bonds of temporal time.  I am an infinite spirit spending a moment in time in a finite body. My body and I aren’t making it out of life alive but I plan to allow my spirit to rest forever in this LOVE.  I invest myself in this belief.  My life depends upon it.  Little else matters.  The cold, the fog, the problems seem limited and almost insignificant.

My physical life and everyone else’s is contained by the temporal, by the limits of the laws of physics, by the ravages of time.  The problems of this life are the ashes from which all our souls may rise.  My spirit rises now.  I am able to view my life and the lives of those who share this point in time from a greater distance.   From this broader perspective, I hold them closer to me.  Our interconnection is tangible.  Our destiny is Love.

Again, I blush.  This is not how  talk.  These words seem not to be my own.  They do not flow naturally out of my mouth or into the tips of my fingers and onto the page and, yet, here they are.  They were in the van with me this morning or rather what they pointed to. . . and then all too quickly, they were gone and the feelings of deep love and peace with them.

Yet, the contrast between the feeling and the lack did not leave me grieving.  A small warm glow lingers and in broken moments, in between the seconds, I recapture that Love for tiny pieces of time.   I hold it close.  It is what draws me from the ashes.  I must follow.  Life depends upon it.

To upload wall-paper see:


I am the person behind the words printed here. I write because my heart will not allow me the option of NOT writing. It has taken me half a life time to discover this basic truth, but now that I have, writing is as natural as breathing. This is where my breath takes the form of words.


I am reading

The Miracle Morning: The Not-So-Obvious Secret Guaranteed to Transform Your Life (Before 8AM)
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