the Catholic Woman

She had no oxygen…so I brought the metal devil to her.

Just a tourniquet for a blistered soul.

She never fared well, hot.

She never fared well, cold.

Quiet were her ways.

A tsunami were the words…she did not say.

One sinner could cling to her devotion.

Just as I, began to sink slowly in her god-fearing lifeboat.

Out and out, by myself, in a turbulent ocean.

Every Sunday metal tank set at ease.

No longer was she…to kneel before the hosanna.

Wheeled, forefront and center, beside other elders…

strands of rosaries, strung together like christmas lights.

A hymn all their own.

One Sunday with all the prayers of faith and health.

One Sunday…when the oxygen ran out.

 

Truth, Compassion, Forbearance: Falun Gong

 

falun gong 2

Christianity became a weighted brick upon my poor ankle.  More central to the point, Catholicism, imaged itself as a, catalyst to family values…Family values that shackled my innermost feelings.

It was in the thickest of ‘shame’ I lived.  Adulthood provided, for me, a sink or swim mentality.  A Higher Power seemed a country mile away.  But with grace…we managed to meet in the middle.

  I have pursued a spirituality with no foot hold to anything.  Native American Lore!  Buddhism!  Naturalism!  

At this stage in the game of life, I am not as centered as many.  Yet, there is a daily grasp to uphold the best I can be.

Stumbling upon Falun Gong practices…purely by accident.  I unraveled the simplest of truths.  

Though my country has left me dismayed.  I am not held against my  spiritual will.  I am free to disclose (for now.)  My beliefs do not need to be under constant focus…or under the gun.

It is rare but on occasion, my reverence and where I live…Cause me to understand…Just how fortunate…I am.

 

Falun Gong…

Nothing more than the mere and simple belief in tolerance, forbearance and compassion.

Simply put…a more intense set of values…set upon the Golden Rule.

However,

There are no fees or formal membership, lack of daily rituals of worship, its greater emphasis on morality, and the theological nature of its teachings.

As a traveler in search of betterment.  This organic philosophy could possibly provide what is much needed in this overcrowded world.  And, my overcrowded life!

Unfortunately, the paranoia of powers far, far away from the land I live in; Do not carry similar beliefs!

Falun Gong practitioners in China are reportedly subject to a wide range of human rights abuses: hundreds of thousands are estimated to have been imprisoned extrajudicially,[3] and practitioners in detention are subject to forced labor, psychiatric abuse, torture, and other coercive methods of thought reform at the hands of Chinese authorities.[4] As of 2009, human rights groups estimated that at least 2,000 Falun Gong practitioners had died as a result of abuse in custody.[5] Some observers put the number much higher, and report that tens of thousands may have been killed to supply China’s organ transplant industry (see Organ harvesting from Falun Gong practitioners in China).[6][7] In the years since the persecution began, Falun Gong practitioners have become active in advocating for greater human rights in China.

persecutionoffalungong.com

 

 

 

 

 

Pursuing the Spirit

There in the broken lot.

Hunched, but, young.

A walking prosthetic.

Beautiful, nonetheless.

In comparison,

my renewal…nothing short of pathetic.

As I began to surmise, down a cobbled street.

The reckoning…would not shake me free.

Would I remain a pursuer of spirituality?

With the mystery of the mystics…forever ahead of me!

 

Holy Insecurity

boys n girls 5

No certainty.

To the reliance of reflection I see.

Thus, what of the transformation into an iron cross of discovery?

Un-anchored spirits from forbidden doorways.

Youthful were the vestiges I held to the light.

Now they are only recollections of disappointed blasphemy.

How true these reflections in me?

How honest can the hues be?

Could not account for the strolls around…

the Good News Bible.

Though,

Revelations dripped prosperity.

However grappling were the allegations on the pages in between.

The blotted ink left simple transference of someone else’s insecurity.

What honest there had been left to reflect upon?

Holy insecurity.

 

 

It is in the Way…We Walk

 

Letter from Mother…

Insinuate with soft, well, chosen strides.

Leave an open arm’s path…ahead and behind.

A venue for others to confide.

Not all season’s covet rebirth.

Ultimately, no man-made earth.

Contrite, as it appears.

Extinction grows near.

Beware an over harvest…coupled with a weighty appetite.

In every budding sapling, a saint, a sinner.

Nil is the return…on a landscape that cultivates thinner.

The shadow’s tire on decayed cornstalks.

In a layperson’s terms,

it is less in the way…

and,

more in why…

we walk.