Sometimes in quiet moments

On “hearing the Call” beyond prayer and meditation

I hear the call. Perhaps best to say I sense the pull of a call. Feel the pulling of it, a calling that groans as it waits for me to respond before I run away into death. At first glance it feels energetically as a call to ministry, to be a pastor to the people for God.

Am not clear exactly what this call is. It is clearly spiritual, mystical, divinely directed. By The One God above all other gods and goddesses? Or by those spirit guides and guardian angels? My spirit guides and guardian angels? Do such spiritual beings exist? I know they do, but how many? Are they one and the same? How many deities are truly divine aspects of a greater Oneness we call God, a god without gender or ethnicity or even good pronouns? How many deities are biological entities from other planets, dimensions, and vibrational densities our awed ancestors erroneously deified in our long ago past? Or perhaps these “aliens” fooled us? Deceived us? Continue reading

Call of the Divine down by the Clothesline

Our culture is riven with wounds. The linguistic tapestries woven from many of our stories arise from psychological, emotional, social, and physical trauma. Ken Woodley, a man who once attended the same small, all-male college as I did went on to advocate for deep racial and social healing between Blacks and Whites in Virginia and across America. From his position as Editor of The Farmville Herald, the local newspaper in Prince Edward County where he still works, he once stated, “We are not responsible for a lot of the wounds we find, but we can be responsible for the healing.”

Healing of such magnitude begins with awareness and presence. Healing of any kind demands such presence. Awareness begins with waking up. Dreams aren’t any good unless you wake up to take action to make your dreams come true.

I remember when I first woke up.

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