Testament on the Last Day of 2020
It’s the last day of what everyone seems to agree
has been the worst year anyone can remember,
even worse than 1963 or 2001.
I’ve been scrolling through so many
GOOD RIDDANCE, 2020 graphics on Facebook,
yet I remember how the new infant 2020 was welcomed
with open arms, even as a possible saviour.
You never know what a babe will grow into.
I’m not a big fan of formal
beginnings or endings to anything.
Renewal, I find, usually takes place
when I’m not looking, not expecting,
though often, nearly always, in fact,
longing.
So I pray for us that someday, and of course,
I hope, soon: Oh, how to say it?—
The split will be healed.
All splits will be healed,
especially the one that seems
to have cloven my country in two
until “two nations” each believe the other
to be mad, stupid, evil, or all three.
But frankly, who knows how low
we need to go before we hit bottom?
I had a friend who drank heavily
and only rarely went to AA meetings.
We found him dead in his trailer one day
My other friend, an AA veteran, observed,
“His bottom was not in this lifetime.”
Meaning he’ll get through it,
but in some other incarnation.
Sometimes you have to get the big picture,
look at everything under the aspect of eternity,
as Jung often said. Think of cosmic cycles,
think of what ancient Hindus called Kalpas,
which last 4.32 billion years and are still considered
only a blink of the Eye of God.
There is so much
that is so far
beyond my comprehension.
All I can do is try to have faith,
remember things I’m grateful for,
continue repeating inwardly the Holy Name,
and take the next step forward
into a new day, year, lifetime—
and though I may not even know it
when the time comes: Kalpa.
Christmas Day Prayer: A.D. 2020
Baby Jesus, today’s your birthday,
But you’re always being born, aren’t you?
Whether you’re born today, tomorrow,
Or forever: be born within my heart!
My heart is the place where
Your birth needs to take place.
As a man, you said “The whole Creation groaneth!”
You were speaking about my heart.
Francis of Assisi built from wood and clay
The very first Nativity Crèche
But the Miracle only occurred
When he saw the birth take place—
A birth than can only be seen
With the eyes of the heart!
Oh, God, if we could all
See with the eyes of the Heart,
Peace would be a given!
Is there any other way?
Helplessness
The Road to God is full of traps,
And, what is more, devoid of maps.
The snares, moreover, can’t be found
Because they’re buried underground—
Buried in one’s own mind-stuff.
They are oneself. That’s hard enough,
But keeping focus on the Road
While clearing an obstructive load?
Impossible! In anguished grief,
a desperate heart wails for relief,
Broken down, with no one near
To render aid or even hear.
Pity not one who can’t erase
himself. Such cries will draw God’s Grace.
Framing
It’s kind of scenic, where we live:
valley golf course with condos
dotting surrounding hills—
land that once belonged
to the Miwok.
When I go out walking
I nearly always take pictures.
I don’t plan it that way,
but any glimpse of pure Nature
calls up in me
a deep hunger for wildness!
I tear the phone
from my pocket
and carefully frame the arc
of a perfectly-shaped hill,
so that the bottom of the shot
is just above all manmade structures.
I may glimpse a pristine world
peeking out between
two condo buildings.
The trick is to strip away
any evidence of human presence.
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image 1: Max Reif; image 2: Max Reif; image 3: Wikimedia Commons; image 4: Max Reif; image 5: Max Reif
