The Way to Emmaus

The Way to Emmaus

Susan Heffron Hajec 3-31-18

How many times, Lord
have I walked
the road to Emmaus
like your disciples?
Distraught over what
has happened.
Afraid of what lies
before me.
Confused that things
didn’t work out
as I planned.

Many times, I
must confess,
many times.
How can I so
easily forget
It is you, yourself
who told me—
“Behold, I Am
with you always.”

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A Star in my Heart

 

My post today is my most beloved poem of all the poems Joyce Rupp has written. It touches me deeply at the soul level as being the poem of my own birth. Indeed, gathered together am I from history-held mysteries.

These past couple of months, I have been in prayer and healing ministry for so many of my family members and friends suffering from illness and grieving the loss of a loved one — each one “so ordinary, so unique, so simple, so complex”…

Each one given the gift of life and each one exploring the ways to live that as a life of love.

Each of us is surprised into life and each, the blessing of eternity passed on.

I seek out this poem often, to bless myself and the others that I love.

A Star in my Heart is a beautiful read.

 

 

From A Star in my Heart – Joyce Rupp

Revision date: 1/8/2018

gathered together am I
from a history-held mystery,
a bundle of memories am I.

caught from smiles and heartaches
of faces and places past cherished
given in love from the heart of life.

from kisses and love making,
from caring and growing,
from vibrancy and vitality,
the gathered memories
of my own named person
have been gifted into existence.

surprises from seeds and secrets,
gifts from unknown voices and events;
here am I, so ordinary, so unique.
here am I, so simple, so complex
knowing that the seed of my self
has the touch of gathered memories;
gleaned from the ages of another time,
seed and sperm seeking, making known.

a birthed bundle surprised into life,
light filling the center of a new spirit;
the blessing of eternity passed on:
urgency always to seek the face of God,
first gatherer of all good memories.

Joyce Rupp – A Star In My Heart

Lura Media –

 

 

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Butterfly Prayer

 

Butterfly Prayer
Susan Heffron Hajec

In a star-filled Virgin Island sky
Souljourner’s voice
sends out a Divine Spark
of love and gentleness
across the calm blue-green waters.

A living prayer of protection
and passion transforms
the holy monk’s confined walls
to golden vibrations
of worldwide peace.

They seek
the cry of the wolf
and sooth the ancestor’s
pleas of long ago.

 

 

 

 

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What Floats Your Boat?

 

I am sharing my enjoyment this morning of two more perspectives  on God, boats and laughter written in the poetry of Hafiz.

“Two Giant Fat People
By Hafiz

God and I have become like two giant fat people living in a tiny boat;

we keep bumping into each other and

l
a
u
g
h
i
n
g
.”

 

“Barely One You Wish To Harm
by Hafiz

There are only so many people you can carry in your small boat before their weight sinks you.

A hundred you can carry whom you love. But barely one you wish to harm.”

 

Poetry from:  A Year With Hafiz Daily Contemplations by Daniel Ladinsky

Photography by Rebecca Emmons Lambert

 

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Butterfly Prayer

Butterfly Prayer
Susan Heffron Hajec

In a star-filled Jamaican sky
Souljourner’s voice
sends out a Divine Spark
of love and gentleness
across the calm waters.

A living prayer of protection
and passion transforms
the holy monk’s confined walls
to golden vibrations
of worldwide peace.

They seek
the cry of the wolf
and soothe the ancestor’s
pleas of long ago.

 

 

SoulCollage(R) by Susan Heffron Hajec

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Harvest Moon Rising

Harvest Moon Rising
Susan Heffron Hajec

A shimmering moon came down
from the sky
and touched her soft earth
in the Wildwood.

“Will you take a ride with me?”
asked the moon, gentle and soft.
Intrigued by this lunar visit, she sat herself
in the welcoming center womb
of the moon and it rose
once again into the high reaches
of the swirling color creations
of her moon-lit sky with no ceiling.

“Where are we going?” she inquired
as stars, like lightening bugs, flicked
all around her.
“To your harvest,” replied the November moon
as the horizon widened below her.

She looked down and she saw millions
of seeds of her love, planted over the varied
seasons of her life span.
They had fallen deep into the soil, seeking
both the heat of the earth’s center
and the touch of the sun above.

And risen to the surface were bountiful fruits,
many of which were random and scattered —
unplanned, spontaneous seedlings —
some, such a simple seed as to have been
forgotten by her.

Now, they spread across the Wildwood,
seeping out into the wider world and
enriching and abundant for all that they touched.
She, the author of kindness and creation,
relaxed by the kaleidoscope of color-filled purpose,
breathed into the movement of Harvest Moon
and now, opened even more
to the discovery found in journey.

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Lists and Leaving

Dipping again into my journals again. This one from 1997

Lists

I Am a friend.
I Am a wondrous woman.
I Am Truth Seeker.
I Am Peacemaker.
I Am Love Giver.
I Am writer.
I Am traveler.
I Am teacher.
I Am Spirit-guided.

I am not possessive.
I am not a secretary.
I am not angry with my brother.
I am not a social butterfly.
I am not a step-daughter.
I am a daughter.

I would like to be an author
with a published book.
I would like to be a person
with a healthy heart and managed weight.
I would like to be someone
who travels around much of the world
with my beloved Tom.

I seek and I learn.
I smile and I listen.
I see light in my elders’ eyes.
I write and people respond.
I laugh in joy and I cry in sorrow.
I pray and receive healing for myself and others.
I take care of me and I am provided for.

I am One with others.
I am happy and I connect with other people.
I know there is Divinity in all.
And knowing that
makes my world
a very good place to be.

 

Aug. 28, 1997   (From Skidmore IWWG summer Writing Conference
Parting is such sweet sorrow, and we’ve done it many times.

Upon leaving this house…..

I take with me
the deep green freshness of the towering pines
the open window to the stars exclaiming
their wonder in the cool black skies
the sweet melodious songs of the birds
perched amid the pine branches
the landscaped blessed with the deep pine green
on a blanket of freshly new-fallen glistening white snow.
I take with me the hallway-formed pine trail
that my collie Bleu and I walked together
on sunny, crisp colorful days, or with raindrops
protected from reaching us under the protective
arch of the pine trees
much like a chapel visit by an aging dog and his human.
I leave him buried here among the pines where
his spirit runs free.
Beloved dog, wondrous woman graced by his being,
precious, furry, friendly  gift in my life.

 

 

 

 

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