(originally published in 2007)
I found a post recently from a blogger that I've been reading off and on for over a year.
He posted this:
"Passion"
You can’t have passion
without having hope.
When you have passion,
you no longer fear.
While I agree with his statements above- I have some questions...
and I had a vision.
I'll start with the vision.
I saw a volcano.
Liquid fire gushed up through the top and spilled over the sides of the mountain...burning, rolling, inching it's way towards the water below.
The lava was beautiful, powerful and intense.
Absolutely nothing could stand in it's way. It consumed everything in it's path.
Plants vaporized from the heat long before the lava got close to them. The whole landscape of the mountain was altered.
As it moved it's color changed. Slowly it lost it's bright red intensity as it started to cool. Eventually it turned into what looked like black stone...barren and porous.
What had been a vibrant, hot, moving, molten mass of melted earthly innards was now something completely different. It had become rock hard- black- and very sturdy.
What if passion is like lava?
What if, over time, passion completely changes it's form and function?
What if- what you experienced early on in your relationship is unreasonable to expect later on?
What if you are unprepared for the truth of that transformation?
What if you keep expecting the red hot stuff, but only find black rocks everywhere?
Did anyone tell you this would happen?
Didn't you see it your parents marriage? Or did you chalk it up to apathy, or old age, or not pay any heed to it?
The passion couples have for each other is not always like it was in the beginning...sometimes not even close. However, the poem above makes a profound statement...
"When you have passion, you no longer fear"-
No fear of being alone.
No fear of rejection- (at least in a healthy relationship.)
Passion becomes one of two things, as I see it. It either burns up and burns out, or it transforms into something solid- something you can build a relationship on.
It's interesting to think of liquid fire becoming stone and then supporting life. It does not seem possible, and yet-- look at Hawaii. A whole chain of islands created by volcanic activity- now lush and green and full of living things.
What is better? The burning hot lava- red and fiery- and a wonder to behold? Or the stunning plant and animal life that's taken over every square inch of the islands?
It's difficult to comprehend in the lava stage that things are going to change so very, very much.
And hard to imagine, when standing in Paradise, all of the beauty we behold started with an explosion and fire.
This is where I find myself in this phase of my life.
Missing what was and stunned by what is.
It is breath-taking and gorgeous...
And not at all what I expected.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Treasured
In a moment of need,
I held him as he wept,
I kept his tears as if they were treasure.
I saw his brokenness, I felt his grief.
His wounds have scars, but the blood still flows.
Murder, death, loss, regret, honor, strength, orders followed.
Betrayal, humiliation, meditation, endurance, zen...then freedom.
Freedom to fall. Fall. Fall.
A new season of brokenness begins, as does a time of mending.
A season of dependency, and of growth- perhaps like no other.
Then an era of love.
Still tied by strands to things of the past. Some bonds are more easily broken than others. The hardest to let go of- run deep.
Abandonment, insecurity, hunger pains.
No fear of the dark, Armor, weapons, tactical skills, discernment, hands off.
All tools to keep fools and pain at bay.
Yet- I wrap myself around him.
I need him when he is cold. I ache when he is hungry and alone. I grasp his closed hand and rub the muscles which carried weapons, changed lives, and tended to the wounded. His wounds have waited long enough.
The future swirls before us. Nothing is clear except the Need.
The Need to be loved and accepted with our broken hearts, and broken bones.
The Need to be known as we are, with the blood, the unborn, and the darkness which surrounds us to be washed away, uncovered, and illuminated.
The Need to look into the eyes of another and find no judgement.
A Need to be treasured and held dear.
And You are beloved friend,
I held him as he wept,
I kept his tears as if they were treasure.
I saw his brokenness, I felt his grief.
His wounds have scars, but the blood still flows.
Murder, death, loss, regret, honor, strength, orders followed.
Betrayal, humiliation, meditation, endurance, zen...then freedom.
Freedom to fall. Fall. Fall.
A new season of brokenness begins, as does a time of mending.
A season of dependency, and of growth- perhaps like no other.
Then an era of love.
Still tied by strands to things of the past. Some bonds are more easily broken than others. The hardest to let go of- run deep.
Abandonment, insecurity, hunger pains.
No fear of the dark, Armor, weapons, tactical skills, discernment, hands off.
All tools to keep fools and pain at bay.
Yet- I wrap myself around him.
I need him when he is cold. I ache when he is hungry and alone. I grasp his closed hand and rub the muscles which carried weapons, changed lives, and tended to the wounded. His wounds have waited long enough.
The future swirls before us. Nothing is clear except the Need.
The Need to be loved and accepted with our broken hearts, and broken bones.
The Need to be known as we are, with the blood, the unborn, and the darkness which surrounds us to be washed away, uncovered, and illuminated.
The Need to look into the eyes of another and find no judgement.
A Need to be treasured and held dear.
And You are beloved friend,
You are.
-CRB/1.12.11
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