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

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Child’s gift

One little smile,

charming and sweet,

shines from a girl.

coming to greet me.

Eyes while haunted

by life’s brutal mess,

still see with hope

and believe I’m the best.

A scampering motion,

and next she’s embraced,

by arms that receive her

with joy she’s released.

Contagious, infectious,

she lives with no shame.

She hasn’t yet learned

that she’s poor with no name.

Alive, still believing

in this day’s rich grace.

Enjoying the laughter

with mud on her face.

She twinkles with brilliance,

her heart so alive.

She’s blessing the world

with life from above.

Today I’ve received

a gift in my being

in the face of a child-

unbound, still believing!

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

Living still

Peace is a feeling

that rests in my gut.

Quiet is gentle

and never acts rough.

Stillness feels soothing

when tremor’s fear sears.

Rest is the trust

in a child’s sweet sigh.

 

Peace is a river

that gentles my heart.

Quiet is a mist

that blankets my sighs.

Stillness is a sea

that’s smooth as glass.

Rest is a well

that is crystal and sure.

 

Peace is eternal

and answers life’s call.

Quiet is the whisper

of the Father’s sweet hush.

Stillness is the comfort

of the Lover’s caress.

Rest is the answer

when the Spirit does bless.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Eyes so bright

Eyes that see, eyes that weep, the colours vary widely.

The tears that fall will always flow with such great clarity!

Eyes moving blindly, eyes seeing nothing, wander across the globe.

Sorrow and hardship come together, stealing away the soul.

Eyes that shine. Eyes so bright. They shine inside my soul.

The wonder of the brilliant touch of sight that makes me whole.

Eyes that see me, as they brush me, seeming just out of sight.

Spirit’s vision creating history, while darkness invades below.

Eyes, they charm me, eyes that catch me, always by my side;

the grace of living well connected, within the realm of love.

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