The Divinely Human Effort

What must I do to earn freedom and space?
Nothing.
What must I know to open and be free?
Everything.
Nothing and everything clash in my middle.
Paradox.

A need to empty, the right to be full.
The work to let go, gift of emptiness.

And now empty, my vision much clearer.
Truly seeing what’s beautifully real.

Reality now rushing in to fill.
Spaciousness given, from the beginning.

–J. Brunson

Peaceful Reality

More than a few times
I have journaled, early in the morning,
about peace.

Such peace, I believe,
is the desire of my heart.
My body, my soul, my spirit,
desire the peace sung
by the wind in the tall pines;
peace painted
by the joy of a sunrise;
peace spoken
by the words of sunset
after an ordinary day.

Such is the desire
of my true self,
a home where love lives.
For home is Trueness,
and Trueness is with the source
of such peace.

–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!