Small Tendrils

I am always taken by surprise by the effect that ambient social atmosphere’s have on me.

They impact me more than I realize. Usually it begins very subtly.

Small tendrils seem to seep into my experience.

My emotions begin to shift in subtle ways.

Little thoughts seem to intrude upon my day.

Innocuous promptings seem to shift my perceptions to align with that which dominates.

Invariably,

what was unconscious becomes conscious

– when my dislocation from my normal anchors, leaves me adrift.

I awaken in shock, not quite aware of what set me loose and drifting.

 

If I stay within a “needy” mindset, I find my perceptions only generate more confusion.

However,

when I choose to process my realities within a spiritual dimension,

I find the elements that have shifted me, standing out in stark contrast to the things I hold dear.

These are the things that release my identity and freedom.

I choose again to reaffirm that which grants me grace

and

find the tendrils die off as I rise once again  – with clarity.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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Life change

Busy, dizzy-  all speeds fast;

people on coffee

and adrenaline’s blast.

Hurrying, scurrying – all in a rush;

Life is chaotic

and time can’t last.

 

Bumping, annoying – this line’s so long!

strangers can’t see

that it’s all about me!

Anger and sarcasm flow as I scream;

hurting and hurling,

these “others” aren’t me.

 

Shocking and stopping – a moment in time.

Suddenly faced

with a heart that is kind!

Eyes seeing, heart hearing,

I’ve paused in the crush-

Life’s suddenly changed!

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Culture’s colour

Clash of cultures, how we see,

is as varied as fish in seas!

When we live and speak as one,

we shape the world and it becomes.

Some create a world with walls,

Others dream of skies that move.

When we look at other’s eyes,

if they differ we then deny.

 

Some delight in musics pound

Others choose a lilt that lifts.

Some repose in structures bare,

other’s colours light the night!

Some genteelly ride in buses

while others banter as tire scream.

Each of these is quite unique;

each believe their’s is most right.

 

Some protect and cover up

every aspect of their hearts.

Then they bare their flesh with flair,

and astound those who wouldn’t dare.

Some explode with wails and screams,

pain exposed for all to see.

Then they cloak themselves in cloth,

So to keep privacy intact!

 

So we each meander life

drinking sweetly from our past.

When our journey drops us curves,

we then discover there’s more to learn.

So to keep our future bright,

we really need to blend our strands.

As we journey and learn to love,

its so good to keep holding hands.

Author – Bill Tidsbury

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

Blind eyes

When living in the hills of Honduras, I know that steady rain drizzling down at night gives me very muddy water from the tap in the morning. Small things that shift my daily routines!

Tropical sun blazing as the morning unfolds, foretells that soon this day will shrivel my soul with heat.  Just one of the challenges that unfold in life as you drift closer to the equator.

It is interesting how our perception of natural things shift from one nation to another, or even one culture to another. Our realities vary!

Yet wounded feelings that flow from hasty words receive global recognition. They warn that I have apologies to make so as to guard what is precious. These crucial decisions must flow from a love for which we all long.

Then there are angry words that accuse and kill. These assaults violate trust and assail every soul. It still amazes me how fear incites all humanity to take death’s scythe to bed with them!

Why is it so easy to forecast consequences in our natural world and yet live with blind eyes in regard to that which binds us into the wonder of belonging?

Author – Bill Tidsbury

Canadian waiting room

People peer and people hide, people scurry around inside.

Busy lives occupied, and then collide! – caught in a waiting room.

Different journeys all coincide, they pull us together, side by side.

Some are sick and others tired; one is supporting while another strides.

All together in one room, waiting their turn to leave this doom.

 

Eyes are glued to cell displays, some are earnest with video games,

All can feel each other’s vibes, crowded around yet locked outside.

Brief encounters cause a smile, especially when caused by an innocent tike.

In spite of proximity, silence reigns, then there’s a giggle that doesn’t end.

Transparency’s blessing brings relief, as one small child distracts his friend.

 

Busy lives wrenched by chaotic waves, yet walls erected keep things “safe”.

People drift in with worries and fears, shrivel within because no one dares.

Kept apart by fearful restraint, tumbled lives twirl with no incident.

Alone and silent, each in turn, take harried hearts in for pills that burn.

Each of us miss the  treasure beside us, because we insist on the silence that hides us.

Author – Bill Tidsbury