Tin roof’s voice

Rain that falls creating mist, splashing as it does on rusted tin.

Roofs that channel grace away, preserving dry my home so frail.

Under roofs we each can live. Safe, so dry, ignoring rain.

Yet the world above us whispers -“blessing’s grace awaits your face!”

 

As the storm’s ferocious voice, gathering strength, rains down with force,

my heart invites me to step outside, to welcome fresh this caress of grace.

Mystery sings as cool breeze blows, rain’s refreshment in the midst of heat.

Here renewed, my spirit lifts, to live your joy and dance your glee.

 

I am loved, I’m known, then found. I’m free to live out way beyond

Face uplifted in the rain, my dreams take flight within my brain,

Alive to life. my destiny sings. What once was binding no longer stings!

I sense awakening . Your flow enlivening. The tin roof’s gone, so I can move on!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Strange new space

Mountain sunset leaps on the scene as the light plays through the gaps in far hills. Colours, gradually fade as the day draws into the dusky promise of rain. With a sigh the darkening sky warmly accepts days end.

Sitting alone in mountainous Boaco, Nicaragua, I’m enveloped by the onset of rain. Rain that drums and lashes its way across the roofs below me. The fine mist blowing off the roofs, fills the air, while lightening crashes silhouettes the hills that surround this beautiful town.

I sit alone, yet not in silence. The valley echoes and resounds to the marimba lilt from the bar  many streets below. I ‘m enjoying the sound until I realize the incessant beat – dum dum dee, dum dum, dee –  can only be appreciated in small quantities as it overpowers all other aspects of the night!

The air is fresh – unexpected in the tropics! Refreshing after various days with sweaty arms and the humidity that makes you sticky! Strangeness infiltrates the atmosphere as I ponder on the realities of being once again in this place of the unknown. Adventures form in the presence of strange new space!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

A Different Me

Culture, a way of being. It seems so settled, till we meet another living differently! My way seems so secure. “Of course, it all makes sense!” Until another – sees another me. How can that be! Who am I?  The one I knew or the one they see? It’s not a fight, it’s  just a change -both/and not either/or. So I live, alive and well, still learning more of what I will. I grow in light and see you there – a different me!

Culture, a way to see, a way to speak. It frames my thoughts and tunes my ties. It is and so am I! I live with you and we agree, to walk beside and dance with tunes. My feet are free- never stepping on your toes! Then somehow you appear beside, wildly suggesting a new dance tune. The dance is strange – so I must change! My habits deep, now disagree, this cannot be the way to dance with me! And yet I sense the joy!

Dancing with you, changes me! I’m alive to see my feet once more. They awkward feel and yet they seem – alive again! Soon, I am learning to be me, alive with you – and different within me! I now am learning, more of me. I see the world through different eyes. My world has changed! It’s grander still. Life is to be lived – not boxed! So now I bless this day, that opened eyes, and gave me more. I rest with arms spread wide!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

What’s possible

Seeking to change but bound by pain, a thief’s eyes weep in despair. He plainly can see , the course of the years, the choices that wounded those dear. The vileness breathes, a noxious perfume, of guilt, raw blight and his shame. He weeps as he runs back to his deep gloom and hides with the fumes in his brain.

Yet something keeps rising, if ever so faintly, of possible change in his path. He longs for a friend who believes in him still and will release him from chains and despair. He knows it’s impossible, he knows he’s foredoomed, to wander alone and afraid. And still he cries out for a break in this bond, that always strangles and shames.

Through all the layers of fear and deceit, that flow like instinct to fleece, one more chance to find a nickel or dime, to lend seduction’s embrace. But one still does stand, who sees deeper than most, and calls to the promise in life. He beckons and breathes, new possibilities grow, where only boils shame and this plight.

A moment in time, an instant most sure, when choice reaches out to explore. A shift brings a crack, in the darkness of loss, and grace kisses dreams once again. The despair is so strong, the grip is so fierce as this chance looms bright ahead. A shift to believe, redemption enfolds, and peace paints a face once dead.

Triumph is hard when the pain is most fierce and chains bite hard into flesh. Victory is sweet, when death is revealed as feeble when facing new life. A heart learns to love, first himself, then his wife, as this soul senses joy that’s surreal. His journey begun, resurrection is true, and destiny greets promise for life.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Journeying

 

I am, you are.

Together is still your favourite word.

He is, will be.

Prophetic songs are sung.

 

Trust comes with feeling.

Steps come with hearing.

Change is as certain as dawn.

Now is a moment, time’s in eternity,

You’ve named me yet here I sit still.

Mystery is hidden, Vision is blinding.

Never is not what exists now.

 

What do I say? How can I hear?

Voice has no contact with sight!

Stillness is never so easy to see,

And boldness is always delight.

 

 

Living fluidly.

How we picture or frame things affects how we relate to it.

What if truth were best seen as water?

Truth is like water in that it is pervasive and required in all aspects of life. Without water, life as we know it can’t exist.It expresses itself as comfortably in trees as in humans. So diversity is at core, part of its expression – so truth rightly understood demonstrates amazing capacity to be consistent within itself yet be present in many configurations. Water is not usually a weapon of choice! It is not hard – except when frozen. Frozen truth can be used as a weapon, yet in its very frozenness we quickly render it obsolete! Water fills the air as humidity and yet fills the oceans to great depths. It percolates through rock and soil – it is amazing how it forms the fabric of our world. So truth, as life giving substance is entwined with all reality.

Continuing on with the metaphor then, to see someone vibrantly expressing truth, is not to see them armed with many swords, or tools nor books, but rather to envision someone who is healthy, well hydrated – not parched! It is someone who is not sickly but full of vitality and joy. Truth isn’t so much found by grasping at it as if it were a sword ( who can grasp the ocean!) Truth is found by dwelling in awareness, in harmony. That is, someone well adjusted to their environment. A picture of this is the freedom that would come from swimming in the ocean with gills and fins! To breathe water and not die.

So it seems that often to know truth I am called to be transformed. This challenges my rigid certainty that protects me from change. Yet to live, is to change, to grow and to expand. Often when I am most uncomfortable with the circumstances of my life, unjust as they can be , there are still hints that prod me to recognize that it is time for change so that I can live in truth – in life.  If I look to see with clarity, my challenges speak out that I need transformation! Truth always invites us into curiosity. To learn, to grow, to know. Welcome to living fluidly!!

Author – Bill Tidsbury