Uphill idealist

If I were to have a  conversation with change about changing a mind, this is how I imagine it mig ht go… “You're here. I did not expect you n ow.                Change. “What do you expect?             Change. “What are you asking me to do – who are you asking me to become?”             Change. “I’ve never heard this before.”           Change your mind “ This is different than what I thought before.   I’m learning something new.”           Change your mind “I’m not sure I know everything I should. This is a good. This is hard.           Changing your mind “I wish I didn’t have so much to  learn.   I care about you – I’m willing to try.             Change you “ In time, we will figure out how to  solve this.”           Change you “It isn’t perfect, but we have a start.”           Change you “We must find a way, to truly, honestly, love one another.”           Changed.   The art of changing our minds is one that requires a few essenti

There is nothing better than a windy day. One that arrives, with almost, too-much-force. Disheveling hair. Opening the door of my soul. Stealing the sound of my laughter like a game of hide and seek. Whipping around my arms and legs. Holding space for me to ebb and flow – Like the seagull held secure in her head-first, wing-flapping, flight. Going somewhere and nowhere at the same time. This is a playful space to pull and press worry, hope, and wonder in and around me. Refreshing, drawing out, and channeling away,  everything that keeps me from flying. Copyright September 2020 T.L. Eastman

  1 2 3 4 What do we stand on a rock for 5 6 7 8 We stand for God’s love, don’t hesitate! We’ve been blessed with hearts bold and stout worthy strong. We, like Peter, have been called by love our whole lives long. To stand for love, justice and grace – Everywhere we go,  mercy all over the place. Wherever it is a rock you see That is the place for love to be This is the place for love to be You are the place for love to be Crying out with songs of praise Never-ending for all our days Lived, shared, generous, true. LOVE Wherever we go, God’s love is calling you … Stand. 1 2 3 4 What do we stand on a rock for 5 6 7 8 We stand for God’s love, don’t hesitate!

As we hear the account of Jesus and the Canaanite woman, I want us to pause to listen to today’s text from the prophet Isaiah – as the prophet teaches the expansive nature of God’s house – as a house of prayer for ALL peoples. Isaiah 56:1, 6-8   1 Thus says the  Lord :   Maintain justice, and do what is right,  for soon my salvation will come,   and my deliverance be revealed. 6 And the foreigners who join themselves to the  Lord ,   to minister to him, to love the name of the  Lord ,   and to be his servants,  all who keep the sabbath, and do not profane it,   and hold fast my covenant—   7 these I will bring to my holy mountain,   and make them joyful in my house of prayer;  their burnt offerings and their sacrifices   will be accepted on my altar;  for my house shall be called a house of prayer   for all peoples.   8 Thus says the Lord  God ,   who gathers the outcasts of Israel,  I will gather others to them   besides those already gathered. Today as we wo

Rocks, lines, running, laughing - going somewhere bigger. Missed, overlooked. Determined, telling me something important. Refill with a silver ladle. Missed, overlooked. Salamander, tadpole, dragonfly, sparrow - alive because you are here. Refill with a silver ladle. Where the common people walk. Salamander, tadpole, dragonfly, sparrow - alive because you are here. Determined, telling me something important. Where the common people walk. Rocks, lines, running, laughing - going somewhere bigger. (French Pantoum) Copyright 2020, August - T. L. Eastman

We'd wake up early to drink hot, black coffee in the summer heat -   because you believe the heat of the coffee will help keep us cool as we...             walk to the garden,                           pull up carrots whole out of the earth                                                  and pick and eat concord grapes -                                                               until we can't eat anymore and then go sit on the front porch, in those aluminum bouncy chairs, re-painted and re-painted in                  bright,                                 cheery,                                                     colors.   I'd look, unapologetic, at your silver, course, curls and stare into your beautifully tan handsome face -  and will my straight, dark hair silver and my skin golden brown -                    longing to embody                                    your glorious,                                                  shimmering                               

     Too late I opened the pages of a new to me book written by  an author I loved. I was in a hurry to get to the pages that  I  just  learned existed.                Too late. I rushed through the forward greedy to get to the main event. But the words cut me to the quick.                Too late. "Who's writing this? I know this voice." The tone, the hope, the wisdom  slowed me down to        savor            every               word.                Too late. I knew it was you. You write these words like they are just for me. You write your words so I hear your voice in my head.               Too late. The writer is/was  dear to me.               Too late. She is/was dear to many. I wish I could write, is instead of, was. But, was is, what it is.               Too late. St. M, thank you for asking St. R to write this. I know you are having a rollicking time. Writing, laughing and walking arm in arm.               Too late. Thank you for leaving beautiful words, that fe

  For a Prophet, empathy is a gift, that sometimes feels like a curse.   I was taught, or maybe assumed, that a prophet is: MALEANGRYSHAKINGFISTSGROWLING JUDGING what they see, as ugly.   But maybe a Prophet can: Smile. Paint. Listen, Write. Speak. Sing.  Be human AND connected to the Divine.   A Prophet with empathy: Comes to tiredness and tears, because they care.   A prophet without empathy: IS LIKE AN UNPLUGGED MICROPHONE. It should be saying something important…………………...............................But isn’t.   Being a Prophet is a curse, if empathy, is forgotten.   T.L. Eastman   Copyright  August 2020 Written in honor of poet   Lucille Clifton

Over the past several weeks, I have noticed the concept of “always connected” showing up in conversations with KOK folks. In a time of “Physical distance”, the church had and continues to learn new ways of staying connected – of seeing the work of the Kingdom of Heaven here on Earth.   A friend sent me a poem this week that helped me see the power of meaningful connection, even between people and nature. The author Lucille Clifton tells about a moment where the miracle of connection came to her in the simple task of preparing greens for a meal.   Cutting greens curling them around i hold their bodies in obscene embrace thinking of everything but kinship. collards and kale strain against each strange other away from my kissmaking hand and the iron bedpot. the pot is black. the cutting board is black, my hand, and just for a minute the greens roll black under the knife, and the kitchen twists dark on its spine and i taste in my natural appetite the b