Please Stay

So, I've been going through some emotional upheaval. Here is what God had to say about it.

Dear Christi:

Don’t go. Don’t run away from my presence in this moment. Don’t rush into doing, trying, making, striving. Sure, it hurts to hold still and feel everything. There is no place to hide from your pain, and all the things you have lost, and all the things you long for. But there is love right here, too. I am right here. Please stay.

Love,

God

Photo by Christi Krug

On the Lookout for Wonder

"Always be on the lookout for the presence of wonder." --E.B. White

I snapped this shot hiking San Juan island, lost in the wonder of exploration. It reminds me to keep watch: at any moment, I can find the Presence of the wonderful, whether I'm on a trail or learning to navigate my own soul.

Acrobats and Prayer

Complete awareness combined with absolutely letting go: yes, prayer walks a tightrope.

louie, louie: acrobats and pure prayer - Phillippe Petit

It Doesn't Really Matter What You Call God

I have come to the conclusion it doesn't matter what names we use for God. After all, we are not any smarter than four-year-old kids when it comes to the spiritual world. Four-year-olds don't know the names for things. And that is all right. A story by Robert Fulghum says it all.

"See, what happened was that I got packed off to Sunday School at around age four, and the first thing I learned was the Lord’s Prayer, which begins, 'Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed by Thy name.' And what I heard was 'Our Father, which art in heaven, HOWARD be thy name.'

And since little kids tend to mutter their prayers anyway, nobody realized what I was saying, so I went right on believing that God’s name was Howard. And that I was a member of His family—the Howards. 

Since I was also told that my grandfather had died and gone to heaven, God and my grandfather got all mixed up in my mind as one and the same. Which meant that I had a pretty comfy notion about God. When I knelt beside my bed each night and prayed, 'Our Father, which art in heaven, Howard by thy name,' I thought about what a big shot he was . . . I went to bed feeling pretty connected to the universe for a long time."  --Robert Fulghum, All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten

Art by Banksy.

 

A Poem for Everyday Prophets

"Rejection . . . teaches. This is a powerful revelation, like the burning UFO wheel seen by the prophet Ezekiel, or like the McRib sandwich shaped like the Virgin Mary seen by the prophet Steve Jenkins." --Chuck Wendig, as quoted in Aerogramme Writers' Studio.

I love this nod to the prophets, those rejected or quirky folks whose revelations come from suffering as artists (even if they are pretty weird). We are those everyday prophets, artists, and poets, even as we face rejection. As a matter of fact, you really shouldn't trust any prophet who hasn't had a hard life . . . . 

Prophets

A false prophet is easy to tell

by his clean neck, fine voice

the maps in his glove box

and his command of time.

 

Real prophets

don't believe half what they hear themselves saying

smoke too much

owe on their taxes

have a way of looking at you

 

sharp as boots

seeing a ways off and pretty far down

spying what you'd have noticed

but for the dirt in your eye.

 

Real prophets

kick at things

dig straight to Hell

say, Hold this

hand you the shovel

and jump in first.

 

Real prophets miss buses

hitch rides on beer trucks

say, Meant to get here sooner, but . . . .

 

Meanwhile you wait by the highway

tracing your toe in the dust

map in fist

thinking you're done for.

                    

                          --Christi Krug

 The above poem was previously published in the Aroostook Review.

The Myth of Ordinary

"There are no ordinary moments in life," I said. As soon as the words left my mouth, they stunned me.

Let's back up thirty seconds.

It was a Monday night dinner at the home of close friends. I took another forkful of scalloped potatoes. "This is fabulous," I said.

"Ha," said my host. "It's just an ordinary dinner."
 
That's when I said it.

And realized it was true: each moment of our lives is unmatched, unique, beautiful.

"Ordinary," then, is often a word we use to show we don't recognize the present moment.

In my life, I seek to honor the ordinary. I've written a lot about ordinary things. I am a disciple of ordinary things, teaching myself to acknowledge the wonder of what surrounds me in this life. And when I say, "ordinary," I really mean, "absolutely-incredible-but-secretly-hidden-in-the-everyday."

Photographer and teacher Kim Manley Ort says, "Really, things only become ordinary or mundane when they become familiar and we stop paying attention." Beautifully said.

This ties into "From Boredom to Bonfire," Chapter 36 of Burn Wild. I offer 36 so-called ordinary things such as brown bananas and napkins, and invite you to see them and write about them with new eyes.

Or, as Kim Manley Ort says, "How can you reframe what you see?"