Lost Blessing

It doesn’t always

mean to go astray.
But somehow
this blessing knew
it would find you here—

here in this place
where even you
don’t know where
you are.

This blessing
regrets to say
it left its compass
at home.
It is without map,
chart, GPS.
It has hardly
any native sense
of direction.

This blessing
appears to be
nearly useless,
in fact.

But—
and I know
this might not be
encouraging—
it purely loves
getting lost.

This blessing
has learned to breathe
when it has left
every landmark behind,
when it has seen
its last signpost,
when dark has
begun to fall
while it is
still far from home.

This blessing
knows the prayers to say
when it has misplaced
its way,
the chants
that will help it
find the path
where it seems
no path could ever be.

This blessing
is good at finding
fellow travelers.

It loves the company
of the lost,
the wandering,
the confused,
the ones who have been
walking in circles
for days;

loves helping them
find water, shelter,
shade;

loves keeping vigil
so they can
safely rest.

The point of this blessing
is that it has
no real point.

It just wants you to know
you are not alone,
have never been,
will never be—

that it will go with you,
will wander with you
as long as you want,
as long as it takes,
gladly being lost with you
until your way
appears.

—Jan Richardson

The Dream (Charles Peguy)

I myself will dream a dream within you
Good dreams come from me, you know

My dreams seem impossible,
not too practical.
not for the cautious man or woman
a little risky sometimes,
a trifle brash perhaps...

Some of my friends prefer
to rest more comfortably,
in sounder sleep,
with visionless eyes-

But, from those who share my dreams
I ask a little patience, 
a little humour;
some small courage,
and a listening heart –
I will do the rest

Then they will risk
and wonder at their daring.
Run, and marvel at their speed...

Build- and stand in awe at the beauty of their building.

You will meet me often as you work,
in your companions who share the risk,
in your friends who believe in you enough
to lend their own dreams,
their own hands,
their own hearts
to your building...

In the people who will stand in your doorway.
stay awhile,
and walk away knowing they, too, 
can find a dream.

There will be sun-filled days,
And sometimes it will rain,
a little variety!
Both come from me.

So, come now-
Be content.
It is my dream you dream,
my house you build,
my caring you witness,
my love you share-
and this is the heart of the matter.

Tough Love

Love wants to reach out and manhandle us,

Break all our teacup talk of God.

If you had the courage and

Could give the Beloved His choice, some nights,

He would just drag you around the room

By your hair,

Ripping from your grip all those toys in the world

That bring you no joy.

Love sometimes gets tired of speaking sweetly

And wants to rip to shreds

All your erroneous notions of truth

That make you fight within yourself, dear one,

And with others,

Causing the world to weep

On too many fine days.

God wants to manhandle us,

Lock us inside of a tiny room with Himself

And practice His dropkick.

The Beloved sometimes wants

To do us a great favor:

Hold us upside down

And shake all the nonsense out.

But when we hear

He is in such a "playful drunken mood"

Most everyone I know

Quickly packs their bags and hightails it

Out of town.

- Tired of Speaking Sweetly by Hafiz 

"Prayer is not just spending time with God. It is partly that - but if it ends there, it is fruitless. No, prayer is dynamic. Authentic prayer changes us- unmasks us, strips us, indicates where growth is needed. Authentic prayer never leads us to complacency, but needles us, makes us uneasy at times. It leads us to true self-knowledge, to true humility."

~  St. Theresa of Avila