From Within

From March 1, 2013

All that is real, of any true value
Flows from Within.

From Within to Without …

It is what makes anything seen in
the eye as beauty:

  • Unseen stars now revealed by the
    flat-as-a-fritter landscape
  • Winter, naked mountain trees now
    dressed in fresh snow
  • The face of a true friend after
    too much physical absence

Beauty abounds.

It is found in, and see through,
the interior.

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The Flow Constant

Love in the work,
work in the love,
and love works on me.

A quiet morning
and warm Spring rain
reminding of the obligation
to encourage true self,
allowing peace and quiet
at the center;
calmly pushing away
each unnecessary judgment.

This is love.
Quiet. Solid.
Steady and grounded in this Trueness,
it is a sure stand and steady walk;
it is this grace
given by love
of which we are part.

To place into words,
to define my Trueness,
what words might suffice?
Likely done already, this task
of defining self true,
work done in the very work
that called me out.

Yes, but maybe this work
only opens the door of consciousness.
So then, what does it look like
walking through, now enjoying
the deeper quiet, peace,
and love?

Maybe this walk is faith,
and maybe hope, leading
to the flow constant
of love.

–J. Brunson

Headed Home

From May 2007

“You can’t go home again.”

While I’ve proven this adage true, I’m yet making a new one.

“You’re always headed home.”

I suppose home, then, is not a place as much as it is a journey. And I’ve learned there are few maps for the journey. There are none with the entire journey–not for me.

Yes, I’m a small part of a large universe, but I’m a part. And yes, I’ve played my part.

I now feel a call to play it at a new level.

Rhythm

From December 2007

It was an aha moment when, while watching a movie, the word came to me–or more specifically the message was heard; “Your lost your rhythm.”

As I thought about this, it became clear when I lost my rhythm. It was 10 years ago this month. That’s when we moved to Chicago.

Now, I write about this and I’m not even sure I know what it really means. But in some of my study as of late, I’ve become very conscious of my need to simply live my life–let my days flow–to embrace that each day is a complex mixture of good, bad, happiness, sadness, etc.

This is life: to live, let live, to acknowledge the things that occur, to not let emotions create any false messages, and to flow toward the positive.

I must get my rhythm back.

What is Rhythm?

For me, is it living the day? Is it savoring the moments?

This I know, it’s living free of the act of, or even thinking about, judgment. It’s being free of debilitating anger. It’s loving unconditionally, sending only love and peace.

And this is the why of the message–
… that I once again Feel the Rhythm!
… that I Let myself feel it.
… that I Listen for it, daily.

That I embrace and love the music laid down in it’s beat.

Possession

I’m grateful,
as I’m finding a place, a niche
in my consciousness,
where I can slip into a groove
of Joy.

In this groove, there is separation.
Separation from opinion
Separation from untruth
Separation from, well,
Possession.

More specifically; from being possessed
by the wrong things.

I am possessed by only those I Love.
And that is the possession
I value.

–J. Brunson

A New Home

A Boy
Middle of the year
5th Grader.
A new home
A new school.

My dad had changed jobs to relocate us back to our home state of Mississippi. So, we moved from Florida (the second time) to a town where we had not lived before – in January.

When school resumed after the Christmas holidays, my mom took me to my new school. We went the principal’s office, mom gave them my information, and someone walked me to my my new teacher and her class already in session.

In that school, you entered each classroom from the back. The door, and the aisle to the front, was between the first and second rows to the right of the room (or stage-left for the teacher). My escort and I stopped in the doorway, and she said, “We have a new student.” Each student in the room turned around and looked at me as my escort left me standing there alone.

I remained briefly in that solitary position wondering what to do next. Then suddenly, a boy sitting in that first row to the right, stood up, walked back where I stood, took my trench coat, hung it on a rack, and led me to an open seat in that first row.

As of this date of writing this down, this happened almost 55 years ago … and each time I tell this story, and as I capture it in writing, tears come to my eyes.

It’s about time I wrote it down!

Thank You Steve!