Friday, April 29, 2011

marriage's many metaphors are all high on a Saturday night's fever....

Here is the homily that I had the honour of delivering for my beautiful family-Rachel and Buddy
.....it was truly Royal



Dance Me To The End Of Love
by Leonard Cohen


Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic 'til I'm gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Oh let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We're both of us beneath our love, we're both of us above
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Dance me to the end of love





marriage's many metaphors are all high on a Saturday night's fever....


-metaphors are constantly running.......or shall we say dancing the razor sharp risk of either shedding additional light onto a subject or falling completely flat, like a worn out cliche onto the floor......
-So..............................................marriage, is like an invitation to dance. Now, some people just love to dance, with or without an invitation!!!! But marriage is dancing whether you feel like it or not...........it's a constant invitation to the dance floor!!!!!!

Now, the dance is love's alchemy of blending two unique rhythms into one harmonious and sweeping motion.......please don't fixate on the iconoclastic scene of two properly clad lovers sauntering in circles in fancy formal attire to a slow dance as the Only proper image of The dance............NO........................think bigger, bolder, crazier...think flash dance meets fame, think beach blanket bingo meets billy ray cyrus' line dancing, imagine James brown dancing to the latest Bollywood rock opera...............................................

…………………You got the twist, the shake, break dancing, line dancing, the electric slide, the boogie woogie, the moon walk and much much more....

-Buddy, you sure have your own unique rhythm........soulful, funky, sporadic, reggae meets new vague Grand Ol Opery thing, bohemian bongo meets Merle Haggard, and you carry an extremely good humored, smooth, hip, elevator jazz'd beat- that beats and beats and beats.................. and by the way, you would make a terrific square dance caller.......


-Rachael....you too have a beautiful, unique rhythm that pulsates from your being.....a passionate, raw, acoustic blend of ambition, admiration and drive........a guitar tote'n, lyric lavishing, country boot'n/4 wheel driving melody....that roars loudest in 4 wheel drive through the mud, rain, and sunshine.....


-when your romance began..... these two rhythms began joining & probably occasionally conflicting, to find that unique and original step, leading to your own various dance combinations and moves... and...........................hence, the dance began..............................2 dynamic rhythms mixing into one dance.........

-marriage, Oh.................perhaps it IS that ingrained image of the beautiful sweeping couple sauntering across the dance floor...........fluid, electric, stunning, grace, Yes gracefully..........................Rachael, Buddy............this can happen and needs to happen every day, over and over.


Yes, it's a calling in the realest sense of the word......And, it all hinges entirely on the two of you, the dancers....and your willingness to commit to this grand invitation to dance- that we call marriage......this practiced ability to arise to the dance floor at any given moment.....a call and response of sorts......
-marriage has so much potential energy......only made kinetic when activated....activated by 2 people willing to sync their individual rhythms and persons into one.....one fluid moving motion..., the dance..........

-this might sound like pious poetry....reserved for the inside of hallmark cards but in
truth it is where joy, peace and happiness within a marriage and raw love reside......

-dancing can be loud like the driving clap of thunder; pounding.............. as well as soft and gentle, like the tip of a ballet slipper kissing the smooth wooden floor........
-the calling to join in the dance, is beckoning You each and every moment in life, this sacred invitation- to rush the dance floor, arms wide open, an open heart willing to constantly learn the others' rhythms and a heart felt desire to boogie woogie like mad with your loved one, whether you feel like it or not...


-now, don't get me wrong, these calling to the dance floor come at all times and hours of the day.......................the callings come in the form of,
'Honey, could you please help me with the dishes?, or cleaning the bathroom?, or making a meal?, or changing the baby's.....diaper...............or to that tender delight of catching a good laugh with the other, sharing a memory or a loving meal together.............these are ALL calls to the great dance, together....

-Now, before going any further I’d like to emphasize and highlight that this entire metaphor balances on one fine point.

-That being, You have to continually and constantly be renewed and refreshed by the Fountain head of this All-The Lord of the Dance.

-To be able to love the other more than yourself, like Jesus told and showed us, You must turn toward and become like the Divine, through looking more and more like Jesus and breath more and more of that Holy breathe.

-The only way that fruit ripens is by directly nurturing your inner soil, embracing the seeds of God’s love and grace and spending lots of time in God’s beautiful SON.

-Rachel and Buddy-Here is where this invitation to the dance begins-Harvesting these fruits of the Holy Spirit…Being full of Holy love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control (Galatians 5:22).


-These are the sirens calling, elevating You to give your love in all ways and forms..........as implicit as a metaphor should be, this whole dance invitation thingy....marriage..................love and its commitments..............................is about letting go of self, rising to the others' needs...........love is other-centered.........love is arising with empty and open arms and lifting the other as high as you possibly can............loving another more than yourself.........yes, that is the calling, the invitation to this Big, funky, jammin, jiving, jittery dance.................

Of hearing the dance call-of love and marriage, be prompt in tightening your slickest dancing shoes and hitting the proverbial dance floor full of your unique rhythm and spunk, ready and willing to sway together through each and every song that life has to
offer.


Oh, And one last thing, resounding gongs and clangings cymbols...means your just making lots of noise...instead of making lots of love...........

So rachael and buddy, this open invitatiion to the dance today also servers as a remimder to your fellow dancers to also rise and rush to the dance floor...may we All start anew in this moment of celebration and bliss, on your holy wedding day, as selfless loving dancers committed to love, love and then, love some more...........amen……

-At this moment, I’d like us now to place our attention towards Rachel and Buddy as they exchange their vows of holy love and union……

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

topography poetry for the senseless

Here are a few poems that I wrote a few months ago.....
me, a table sized Atlas, a pen and a pinch of vitality
here ya go...

The sighing of Atlas

the First sigh


The Pyrenees

Of the moment

Momentarily,

Sliding into the sahara

…there’s independence

Once, within the borders.

Independently,

Traversing the heart-land….

A pristine Himalayan stream

Floods the plains..

Plain and ordinarily

cycles



the unexpected sigh

Appalachian exhaust

Crumbling in longevity

Erosive impulses

Alive in proximity

A robin returns

To these low low lands

A cross section of our heart-land

Leveled into a weathered,

Aged,

Jagged,

Flat,

Rock-solid

Stubborn thickness.



The final sigh

The continent of my divine

Can witness to the purity

Of our soils…

Witnesses to the gospel of the

Grain,

the succulent sweetness of the fruit needs no

pulpit to testify…

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Two new spring poems in bloom.......

Here are two new poems written this morning by our 'resident' homeless poet James Preston Jordan. These poems have been submitted to the local homeless newspaper, Street Sense DC.
Here are the poems:



Sex. Sugar. Carolina. My mind.



Royal blue like Miessen,
Dresden or pretty good china,

Kentucky blue, not Carolina. Thirty-six
Views of blood (stop) sugar (stop) sex.

And Carolina. She was from Hanover,
Not Virginia, nor Bruges, where

China is particularly fine. In Old Tokyo
Not Edo I left not my heart but

Other parts of my anatomy much more dear to me.
China blossom, cherry wood, or even

Cherry blossoms that catch a heaven-bound
Breeze and fly all the way to California,

Hollywood, I mean. I seem to remember
All My Bridges being burnt in the rain. Not sighs,

But Vecchio, Vecchio as the direction from Venice
To Tokyo, North by Northeast but almost always

East. Orientalize, certainly, but almost always
While looking inb the bluest of blue Oriental

Eyes, most beautiful in Tokyo.





Ode to Beisbol



Pelota, perhaps, if you are
Orlando Cepeda, not Furiouso, just regular
Muy bueno, or with a build like
Josh Gibson, thumping hides sides deep
Into the St Loo night, and hearing the blues
Later, like Miles
Could play,
Or
Country Slaughter.

A Gooden enough, certain enough
Curve ball, bound to remember you of St Loose
Other Bob, Gi bson like the drink or guitar, honey,
Might even still be breaking,
Twenty years after in the crisp effortless determination
Of an outer borough night. Welcome.
In New York a Strawberry daiquiri

To those who knew, cognoscenti who will bring to mind,
Still stirs a drink that strikes well into the November knight, high above
The game board, hi outside in right. Nineteen eighty-six.
The fastball didn’t fit at ninety. Flylife measured C squared.
A collision was forthcoming, unmeasured the Strawman
Loosed a moonshot way deep into Houston night.
Swordsman Mike Cuellar might remember. Admire Doubleday too.
Still publishes?