Journey into Love: Treasured

It’s hard to see past trauma’s dross.

The pain and shame that fill with loss.

Yet love’s sweet fire sings beauty’s gold,

when pain’s scar’s filled with filagree so bold.

A treasure found is love’s caress.

A treasure chest that makes me blessed!

A richness swells and fills my space,

of all I’ve dreamed and lost as waste.

I dance with joy on clouds so bright

– identity spelled in love’s delight.

I’m treasured in reflections gaze –

amazed!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Free to be

Vast! Stillness, open space

lifts my being into grace.

As eye meets distance and rebounds,

my spirit grasps

and poised forever on the brink,

I smoothly flow as if a speck!

 

So, I dance in hyper-space,

intertwined in love that’s lace.

My heart disperses. Scattered wide,

my being weaves;

while conscious streams, as golden threads,

form beauty and replace all dreads.

 

Still! While inner negations yield,

presence sings, calling sweetly.

Knowing slips within unknowing.

My spirit’s subtle!

Blossom’s grace embraces fire,

and free to be – now flying higher!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Bushwhacking

Bushwhacking – A definition( http://www.freedictionary) – “To force one’s way through a forested or overgrown area where no path exists:” “Often on the verge of starvation, they bushwhacked through muskeg, forded ice-cold streams and rivers … determined to conquer a daunting land deemed impassable”“(Brenda Koller)

There is always a well travelled trail – a highway.

It goes somewhere “important”, popular or theoretically crucial.

If I see myself only through other’s eyes, I am driven to “assume” that areas with no trails are only waste places or impossibly inaccessible. We label them ”Here there be monsters” on the map of life!

Life is after all “only about” what our “culture” and our friends have chosen to praise and admire.

Or – is it?

If life is a process, and if my journey has anything at all to do with my own uniqueness, then, my path must at times appear like buswhacking!

This implies solitude, struggle, many unknowns and periods of being lost!

These aspects of life are not glamourized by many. In fact, they can be downright scary!

Yet, the vast majority of my life’s encounters with exceptional beauty, radical moments of self discovery and incredulous joy, have been off the beaten path.

The courage to step off the “chosen” path will always open the door to wonder, curiosity and discovery, if, I am not running in panicked flight ( Fear is a monster!).

When I choose this deviation from the comfortable, I meet my own uniqueness because my Creator has been waiting to meet me there!

Drink deep of the wine of being exceptional – step off the highway!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Threads of beauty

In the tumult of the hectic, in the rawness of running cold, it can seem turmoil’s ceaseless pounding robs away life’s treasured gold.

I can sense the thread of beauty, flowing through the crashing waves; in these glimpses of perfection, I can grasp – I’m not a slave.

When alone the turmoil thickens, then I feel the need to roam.  When I feel your hand enfold me, it is then I find my home.

Learning quiet, as I’m racing, it’s never easy, always rough. Yet, through gentleness in wisdom,  I find a peace that is enough.

I am strong, yet also needy. I am made to rest in  you. I can reach up to the mountains when I’m energized anew.

Life can so so very fleeting. It’s the joys that make it fly. Yet these moments, when remembered, call me deep into your eyes.

How I see you and I see me, it all flows in harmony. When I settle into stillness,  I’m transformed by mystery.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

The message

I hint , I speak,

yet still the space between

seems destined to remain.

The fog, the smog

damps beauty’s winsome voice.

You look, you wink,

I really still don’t get it-

as silence chokes my heart.

 

Connect, reject,

what difference does it make?

I just don’t get the message!

Your eyes, my heart,

they miss each other’s gestures.

I sigh, I hurt,

still puzzled by the distance.

This trust – it’s hanging by a thread!

 

To live, to be,

It’s so much more than breathing.

I yearn to just be understood.

I hope, I dream,

to sense the quickening lightening.

I laugh, I sing,

when in transparent moments,

I meet you and I’m bare.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Broken dreams

Clashing turmoil – fleeing I seek to hide.

Nothing is certain. The echoes bounce and cry.

Mental confusion grows madly day by day.

Soundless arguments aiding my disarray.

 

In the roaring of mental disconnect,

There’s something deep that begins to lift and rise.

This shift straightens broken loops to clarity

and kisses with a friend’s quiet certainty.

 

Shards of crystal rain upon the fields,

as lies and fears fall scatter like the snow.

Sun’s rays melt the shapeless shards to liquid grace,

creating life for hope’s new planted shrubs.

 

Glowing beauty and fruitful bounty forms

as life takes hold of things once lost and gone.

Destiny flowers – vermillion in a sea of green-

a harvest promised, grown from broken dreams.

Author – Bill Tidsbury