Twisted

Written as a submission to Dallas Art House in response to this year's Origin theme 'On Darkness.'

I’ll make it mine”, age-old thought in a little boys’ brain,

Child’s plaything, magnifier.

I can feel its smooth leather pouch,

In my pocket,

It channels the sun, what twig and beetle burned,

Now burns in me.

“That girl is fine,” A king whose lust won’t be tamed,

Smokin sweet, trophy wife.

Baby you’re going to get lucky,

On my mattress.

From Adams’ rib both lips and breasts satisfy,

And makes hungry

“I’ll be divine,” A creature who wants just to reign,

Proud cherub, anointed.

Your god only wants you happy,

Comes the whisper.

The Liar promises life in taste and tree,

Whose fruit is death.

“I am the vine,” cure the sick and heal the lame,

Whore lover, law breaker.

Cannibal? You said eat your flesh,

To come alive.

Nail in bone for boasts of God their fury spent,

The cost for me.

Photo by Mick Haupt on Unsplash

Let Us Be Deliberate

 Getting sliced open for spine surgery is much like Adams’ experience in Eden. You both are put to sleep not knowing what waits for you post-op.  You both wake with less bone. Adam gets the perfectly paired partner and you got eight titanium screws. The big picture outcome for both operations is a flourishing life.

No nature or nurture debate for these two. The opportunity for Adam and Eve was for exponential development. Basking in God and nature the world was theirs. They could be their full selves. We on the other hand (thanks in part to those two) struggle to integrate soul and spirit. Increasing in soul formation and personal flourishing is always a battle.

“We plow the fields and scatter the good seed on the land,’ is a chorus from Godspell. The ground for growth is always available. The internal decision to flourish or atrophy (life on cruise control is an illusion) is one made minute by minute. I’m entering into a season of that choice now. Some days I don’t work the croft and the crop suffers.

In the face of death let us be deliberate. The seasons come with challenge; children, money, sickness, depression, celebrations, birthdays and weddings. Flourishing means showing up for surgery. Searching for openings and walking through them. Per Pressfield,  “We have a job to do, a calling to enact, a self to become.”

Photo by Wim van 't Einde on Unsplash

How Bad The Fall

                                                  

How bad the Fall must have been. If the first cut is the deepest; how great the gash that severed all flesh. Angel and flaming sword separating us. The tale sung in aeons. Angel Eve, can you bring us back to Eden? So sweet and simple we were. Freely tasting all we were offered; unashamed by the wetness on our lips. Flowing as one.  

Why call it a fall at all? Simple bite of the forbidden? So it’s portrayed. No, rather a spit in the face; fist flung in the air. As lovers encompass one another; so we were encompassed by our Lover. Was it the flesh of the fruit I wanted so badly? Oh to know good and evil! How did we not know how safe and secure we were?

Though I love my fellow man it is easy to see the cracks and fissures emanating from that first fist flung high. Broken at every juncture. It’s genetic or it’s the way we were raised. Self-soothing every way. We can barely connect with ourselves. Our children at war to find their selves. The line of good and evil flows into our progeny. Children born bereft of innocence. In search of the perfect meme.

The voice of Abel’s blood crying out, “Can you bring us back to Eden?” the line stretches down the ages as another cries out. How great the fall that even perfect blood in perfect sacrifice didn’t set all right again. Certainly death the most horrible. Yet how harrowing the expulsion.

Aching pain, unrelenting emptiness and a reaching out only to grasp nothing. This is the pain of the first break up. Producing the fear of ever giving yourself away again. Not surprising then how difficult to let ourselves be loved. Though the destination is future we fight healing in the present. We are scarred visibly from that first encounter. No wonder that we do not give to the Scarred One unreservedly.

How bad the fall must have been. Eden awaits. We have run from Eden even as Eden was wrung away from us. Now we are living in this present place. How easy that first laugh; embrace, and release of self. Bending to believe it was all about me. How much work to learn to love. To give of self to another. To come out of darkness. To be loved by The Lover. The fall was great. The adventure into fulness; reclaiming what was lost; the greater adventure.

Photo by Andrik Langfield on Unsplash