Shoe story

Smooth shoes, slippery mud,

Makes fancy dancing in the street.

Cautious stretch, so you don’t get wet,

when water plays around your feet.

 

O my goodness! What’s that smell?

My foot stepped on what wasn’t mud.

Now the puddle’s my best friend,

rinsing of this shame in flood!

 

Step along, so clean above,

yet now my shoes speak of my slog.

What once shone shiny and so clean,

seem like friends of the neighbour’s hog!!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Beautiful culture

Anyone can detect that which is less than ideal. My eye is amazing at picking out the detail of imperfection – whether in what should be a straight line, or a “perfect” smile. Culture trains us to discern nuance. What is stylish; what is acceptable: what is beautiful; what can I do without?

The reality is that I have been sculpted to gravitate towards those who fit the mould labeled “valued”. It takes grit to turn my heart from superficial fickle appearances to the undiscovered beauty that awaits discovery behind eyes that lie empty.

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An apple seed contains the future tree in all its glorious splendour. Interestingly, it bears no resemblance to its promise. The tree’s tremendous complexity and fruitfulness is encoded within its depths. This future reality is difficult to perceive and identify. I value a seed for what it will be as much as for what it is. The two are vitally linked.

A seed planted and nurtured opens the power of a harvest that is well worth waiting for.

Beautiful culture that is rich and rewarding requires my investment in the seeds of those around me. Unless we cultivate the treasure of each other, we will consume our inheritance in the desperation of the moment. What we create is a barren desert for those who come after us. All the while I criticized the imperfection of seeds that were never given the chance to germinate!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

What is my name?

A shining heart ignites a smile, when one look reminds a tender soul that they have never been forgotten.

I am built with the desire to be significant to you. I want to matter enough, to make a strong enough impression, that you remember my name. My name says you know who I am! I wasn’t just one of many in a crowd.

Nothing is so powerful, as the look of hunger and longing in a child’s face when you return to a place, as someone who in the past has spoken an encouraging word. Somehow, simple words and actions caused some spark of hope to blossom in the ravaged field of a  soul who has experienced much scarcity. The blazing furnace of longing rises in the eyes as they say “Do you remember my name?”

What spurs the leap of laughter and delight? What part of our being produces the surge of joy and the heat warming response of a fierce hug when “the” name flows out?

My tender heart, if left unwalled will always say I need you! My eyes will always look across the gulf that separates you and I.  These eyes will seek to find some link that penetrates behind the veil that mysteriously shuts us out from each other. When my soul and spirit touch that which is warm and bright within your being and I re-affirm the wonder that our two hearts have walked a lonely journey, we smile! Light glows. Sparkles dance. Music occurs and the mystery of belonging grows.

We feel the grace of our shared lives.  We know we are so different  – and yet – there is a flow that nourishes and refreshes. I sense that I am not alone. I am not forgotten. My identity, so tied to spirit, is created for this. I must belong together in communion. The thirst never goes away until together we find a way to live as beings who are intimately known.

So the unfolding blossom of a tender soul, leaps high within the rain of recognition that comes from my name remembered. I am known! I made an impact!

I am a being that is remembered – and I glow!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Add a moonbeam

Walking home alone at night, makes the familiar strange. In place of colours and detail grand, there ’s awkward forms that haunt the gloom. These daytime trees loom dark against the sky, and in the shadows creep things that seem to hide.

And then above, a beam springs out. A soft white light that hid behind a storm. It’s silver light spins webs of life upon the giant forms that loomed.  A glorious stream of sparkles now appear to paint the world as if surreal. And in the glow I smile.

Then I sense the humid air and with it fragrance sweet. The blossoms have opened up their hearts to share their beauty in the dark. It always is a grand surprise to meet a symphony at my door. I look around and wonder why the night has no encore!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Journey’s insistent call

When I find my path is choked with things that threaten me with doom; when I step outside and sense my fear instead of  the wonder of the stars – that is when I seem to need a voice that sing’s of hope with hints of what ’s ahead.

Yet listening is so difficult when noise just fills the air. It’s so much easier to hear the roar of all the things that scare. I also find at times like these, I grip complacency’s despair, and not the quiet counsel that heartens me to dare.

I want to stay the same, it is so familiar with my souvenirs up on the shelf! The problem is that what I seek, are vistas from a mountain I haven’t even seen. I wish that mountain view would simply come to me. Instead, I find that I must trek to places now unknown.

The step that hurts is when I part with routines that were my friends. They sob and cry as I leave behind what separated me from what I dream.  Now, as I step into fields unknown, I find surprise arising – fresh joy!

The journey is a process that requires me to leave and then embrace the new that opens life to soar. I exchange my familiar for the beauty of vision found. I open wide to impossibilities that never could be dreamed – without my journey’s insistent call.

Author – Bill Tidsbury