Huskies

There’s never been such a crew type of dog as

Huskies-jubilant, laughing, single-minded, and

Serious as they pull their sled

further, faster, running with boot covered paws

Along edges of mountains, across the “frozen tundra”

through miles of wilderness, between forests and out

across lakes frozen for months, and streams still

only half solid stuttering with trickles of

winter spigot of water.

Stamina never in question- pulling, all for joy!

Strong shoulders, thick fur,

working together, barking out their symphony

ready to move as they’re snapped into the

harness, no pausing, just unbridled energy.

“Look at me!!!” “Here I am!!!” “Come and join me!!!”

All grins and woofs inviting human notice,

Delighted in the attention, such openness, welcome, freedom.

Coats of all colors, eyes of blue and grey, fur

Bristling, those upright ears- all part of the package of a

Husky.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Richard W Smith
January 29, 3011

Something’s Wrong!

Something’s wrong---I feel it deep within.

Something is out of line, warped, circular,

Causing me to fail miserably at those

Friendships, relationships, casual contacts

From the everyday. Needless to say that

“Something” effects my perspective on other peoples,

It hides and appears at the damdest times

Creating walls of isolation, mucking my mind,

Making retreat my usual direction in life.

Fear, misunderstandings, inability to connect,

Powerless to push off the dock and into the stream-

Yes, something’s wrong and knowing at my life

Fogging my glasses, leaving me breathless, unable

To live existence without the limp of life.



I’ve had coffee these days, sat at the empty table,

Unfolded the newspaper, listened in on nearby conversations.

You can guess what I’ve heard, “Something’s wrong” and

Explanation and excuse, blaming, and frustration direct

The words, hold the conversations endlessly in

Suspension and never does it ground itself in the

Person’s heart and consciousness that maybe it’s

Them, maybe they are accountable and until this thing

Is addressed and the limp in life, the heartbreak,

the loneliness, the fears, the shame is recognized as

part of “us” and that we cannot fix it alone, by ourselves,

we cannot deny it forever, we cannot stuff it deeper and

deeper into the wounds and sores within without scraping

our hearts and the painful ache subsides, we will

tiptoe around the gash and bear the pain and

search dishonestly for some salve.



Whether we were born with this gash or got it from

Our society, whatever the cause, it is there in all of us!

Someone needs to show us the direction,

the way to bear this wound so that life can be lived

and dreams can be pursued, and hopes can be followed.



Sometimes, on my bed at night, struggling with sleep, mind

Racing nowhere but in circles, anxiety over some stupid decision,

Fear that I’m the only one in the human race bearing this

Gash, that I’m odd and strange, uncommon, sometimes

Just before sleep arrives there is a shadow I see;

two wooden crossbars just stuck deep somewhere,

heavy, and then I hear muttered words, agonized

speech saying “forsaken.” For some reason I sense that at least

someone else knows what I’m feeling and is in it with me to the

end.













Richard W Smith

January 28, 2011

Loaners

All life is on loan!

It seems to be universally

Recognized, yet unanimously not applied.


People deal with loans two ways;

(here I’m thinking about rental cars)

One figures, “It’s not mine, I’ll do whatever

I want with it, who cares?”

So they drive as fast as possible, treat it roughly,

Always stressing it to the extremes.

The other types of people figure it’s good thing

to bring it back in the condition it was received.


So life is on loan; our children and parents are loaners;

how do we live with them as being on loan and give them

a sense of our appreciation, gratitude, enjoyment?

When they leave, for whatever purpose or reason,

are they in ragged condition from their relationship with us or

leaving with a sense of being loved and cherished?


Life is on loan; how do we return our country? Is it simply

There for us to get and buy and inherit and

Move on further in our lives; more houses less

Wilderness, exhausted oil supplies and strip mining,

more exhaust on trees and plants or

Do we hand off this wonderful and beautiful land to

Others in the future with a sense of being its’ stewards?


Life is on loan, this planet is for us a resource,

a home in the universe our place in life.

Do we draw down the well of its’

resources for our personal desires causing the air, water,

and ground to be bankrupt;

Exhausted, fallow, polluted, poisonous or

Is this place a treasured home for all humanity, for nature and

Creatures to be supported and saved as well as ourselves?


Life is on loan; even our own small life among this huge place.

Do we abuse our body, exhaust our spirit and

dampen our soul into dread, disease, despair,

sometimes drinking or needling arms and toes

into oblivion or is it time to respect who we are and

accept this life we have been given with its’ struggles and

with its pleasures, with its possibilities and its shortcomings

feeling the pain and suffering, the changes of living?


Life is on loan, it’s been gift more so than only a loan;

have we opened it and shared it and used it knowing life is brief

and time bound and even while we might feel the

monotony or boredom of life some days, it is still a joyful

experience to be alive and share living with all these others,

in this place and on this earth?

















Richard W Smith
January 25, 2011

The Eyes of God

Dreams; nighttime entertainment or serious business,

Truth from the depths? It’s over twenty years ago

Clattering up the stone stairs of an old castle

A knight in armor was chasing me to the top of

The tower with what I considered maliciousness in his heart.

As often happens with those of us who would

Rather avoid conflict then face it, I flew across

The court yard to the other side-hoping to land

On the wall. One problem was in the movement across I flew

downwards a little, just enough, to look through that

narrow opening, large enough for an arrow to get through

and was startled by a pair of eyes, piercing eyes, eyes

that penetrated to the depths of my being.



A few years later, the dream long forgotten, I

Slowed down to turn my car into our neighborhood street

Glancing up into the mirror to check for how close

The driver behind me followed, the mirror reflected those

Same eyes looking hauntingly into my depths.

Someone had hit the mirror and misaligned it upwards.

So the dream came quickly back to me as though I had

Only just finished the experience. I was shaken to my

Bones and pulled to the side of the road to catch my

breath and slow my heart. Was that what the dream

was about, seeing through my out of date, childish, self?



An old mystic once wrote the eyes with which we see God

God uses to see us (or something to that order). The eyes

in which I spy the world God uses to peek into my depths

into the center of my stuff, my life, and has a close up visual.

God is not simply outside me strumming some

old guitar, stroking his old hoary beard, having a cold one-

God is within me, whether known or unknown, as a resident.

No voting needed, no jumping through hoops for whatever

Religion, simply part of the stuff of my being, closer to me

Than I am to myself; than my breath.


God’s eyes are familiar, a huge piece of my Self; not

necessarily trammeled with garments; except flesh and blood.

I am like old Saint Christopher, the patron saint of travelers

providing safe journeys home. The saint who

carried (or tried to carry) the Christ-child across a

river and bore such weight from this child he near drowned. I

bear the Christ, God in the flesh, within me wherever I

go and am, sometimes unknown to me, sometimes with joy.


The eyes that bore into my heart in that dream---

The eyes of God?











Richard W. Smith,

January 22, 2011

Who Let the Snake In?

I’m wondering who let the snake in?

The one that moved into the Garden of Eden.

The one who cross examined Eve and

Challenged the arrangement with God.

God who walked with the loving couple in the cool of the evening;

Talking about their day.

God carrying on about what was created,

Adam & eve-how the gardening was going.

It was an excellent arrangement;

A & E did their living in the buff,

Endless days of relaxation; eating

Fruits, vegetables, all sorts of

Gardening goodies.

But, who let the snake in?



Things seemed to be working well.

The whole plan seemed wonderful-beyond imagining.

Harmony, peace, food enough for all, beauty,

Delicious sounds in chorus-

Exercise and play, someone to share

Your life with, curiosity and discovery all

Within certain boundaries.

The age of innocence, a sense of purity,

A fresh clean piece of paper to write on-

No headaches, broken bones, and someone-

A third someone who could be talked to;

Who really listened and

Actually had some answers-

So who let the snake in?



Was the snake always there? I mean, did the snake

Exist prior to the Garden? Did the snake get prior

Directions from the Creator on this little trick to be played

On the two “gullible” humans, the earth-people?

Was the snake overlooked in creation’s creatures?

Who stuck such an attitude into the rascal

And let him loose. Why did it take so long for

the snake to show up, and was this timed?

Was the snake evil or just have a little authority

Problem, a stiff resistance to orders?

Was the snake maybe good at learning through

the Socratic Method, possibly like a man named

Thomas who would show up later in human history?

Were these two humans unable to ask questions, think for

Themselves, pay attention to reality, life?

Who let the snake in?



Now here’s the real issue-

Didn’t the creator know about this creature-the snake?

If this was to be a “perfect” world, by an all

Knowing, all powerful creator

Why was the snake overlooked and who let

The snake in? I’m certainly not

Being rebellious here with traditional

Teachings, but I wonder who let the old

Slippery skin snake into our party and allowed

The snake to destroy the good thing we had going?



Sometimes I wonder, “Maybe the snake wasn’t

Really evil, I mean what kid who breaks his/her parents rules

Is considered bad and tossed out of the house and

Made to pay over and over again for this one indiscretion?

Maybe God let the snake in-I’ll get in trouble for that

Terrible thought. I’ll probably have some bad dreams for “A

“Month of Sundays.” Maybe if the Creator is so touchy

being asked questions or having some one of the Creatures

raise some questions or issues about how things seem to be

working out, just maybe the Creator is a little thin skinned.



So I leave you with this little question; actually it is

A big question, an unanswerable question, “Who

let the snake in?” Maybe later we’ll ask---why?





Richard W Smith

January 21, 2011

A Gang of Snowflakes

Stopping for a red light

Hanging on the line, motor revving,

impatient as always,

but floating softly

arm in arm,

a gang of snowflakes descended towards my

windshield, shouting, laughing, broad smiles,

cheering as they landed,

and the yellow sounds

shook from the breeze

melting at eye level

taking their joy

and spreading

it across my heart.









Richard W Smith

January 19, 2011

The Word of Surprise

We speak words

To each other often

Missing one another’s heart,

Frequently passing by in space and time

Unable to connect

Communicate.


Once in a while our words

Miss their mark

Yet something mysteriously happens

Despite our failure

Regardless of our intention.


Something deep from within consciousness

Unconsciousness, the depth of

Our connection to all things,

God included,

Rises upward to intercept these words

To become ignited, energized, made alive

And all of our life is changed

And all of our life is changed.


The inner person we were

The stance towards the world we lived within

Our disposition towards reality

Sudden laughter

Unending joy

Clear vision

Rapid heart-healing

Any and all of these results

Come to be

From a miscalculated word

Spoken, which drops into the well

Of unending consciousness and

Sets free the contents of our personhood

Sets free the contents of our personhood.



Richard W Smith

January 11, 2011

The Miracle of Communication

I spoke at you!

Glanced a phrase

A bit of unintelligent humor

Unthinking expressions

Off the top of my head.

A burst of words meaning really

Nothing. I guess I wanted to let you know

I knew you were here in this space

Around me and I could hear you

Breathing, your bones cracking as you

Walked beside me and placed your arm on my

Shoulder to bring comfort, to speak

Healing into my heart which at the time was

Unable to receive such tenderness.



So as I felt that dear arm across my shoulders

Holding me up when all I wanted to do was

Fall apart, crash into oblivion, scream bloody hell

At the top of my voice and disappear into nothingness-

Then, in the middle of compassion, I aimed

Those unconscious words your way

I let them fly, edged them with a little poison,

In your direction hoping that you would hurt as much as I did,

Just so you could know how I felt, so you could sense the depths

Of my pain and heartache-nothing malicious intended.

My words were released and they flew

Across the emptiness between us and somehow they connected

attaching themselves to your heart and instead of exploding

instead of crashing and slicing your heart and

smashing your words and compassionate meaningful embrace

a miracle happened

you heard my deep wail and felt my wounds, your compassion

absorbed the poison of my words and the violence in my pain

and transformed them into a meaningful message that somehow

connected us together!



Richard W Smith
January 9, 2011

Disconnected Words

I aimed some words at your
Heart-
Shot them as precisely as possible,
Polished them beforehand
Knowing that you would be better because
The sentiments were true and
genuine. Then they flew across the space
between us the ether where unknown creatures and shapes
survive glancing off innumerable thoughts and past experiences
that follow you and fill you with obstacles and
with opportunities to respond to all these
human syllables aimed at you.

Something happened along the way,
my aim was sure,
the shafts of words straight but in the ether,
 in the gap between us,
the stories of the past
 twisted those words
causing them to miss your heart
wounding you because of the
sideways angle those words took.

I’ll draw again on my bow
notching my words again
feathers up and
 breathing life into them
praying this time
the ether and stories
will not block or
 bounce those heartfelt words---
again!


Richard W Smith
January 9, 2011

Words as Static

Words

I speak them

Words you say them and I

Listen.

Words

Fingers pointing

Towards the world

Gestures in a direction

Bridges spanned across lives.

Words

Not the reality

The deep essence of things

Simply sounds

visual marks on a page

Flowing across our

Consciousness

Sometimes seeping below this surface

Infecting deeper

Imagination

And drawing

Pictures and symbols

Expressing vocal music

Straining to touch each others

Center

Head or heart

Reaching outward

Outside our self

Our little egos

Rowing slowly toward the shore

Which is other.

Words

Planks and skids

Of humanity

Edifices of approximations

And not exactitude

Waving a verbal visual

Hand

Across the horizon

Pointing to the direction

A van Gogh assault on canvass

The colors bright and startling

Words.

Words

Signals

Sounds

Touch

Gestures of community

Of communication

Always falling short

Always leaving spaces between the actions

Always “not good enough”

Forcing our inner life to connect

As well as our ways might enable

But, sometimes the communication

Is like the Radio Astronomer

Searching for any sign of intelligence

And settling for static.













Richard W Smith

January 9, 2011