On My Knees Beneath These Trees

If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God,

that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; 

and it shall be given him.

--James 1:5

 

Dennis & Irene Jones, who played a big role
in my coming back to the Church, visiting our canyon,
near our very own grove of sacred maples
where I always feel peace.

Cool, damp earth beckons me
to where I need to be,

on my knees beneath these trees

in supplication to my God,

an honest prayer to meet my needs.

God, help me; I am confused.

In a world of competing voices,

I want to do thy will,

but I don't know where to stand.

Great darkness closes in,

taints like the world,

touches like the adversary,

tries to entangle me,

bind me, bow me 

down to grovel,

to beg, to plead,

to make that coerced deal:

trade my temporal need

to feel safe, to breathe,

to get a release

from this thick, black ick

in exchange for my silence,

my willingness to void

my personal connection 

with my God, who I have come seeking

and who I have been promised

is my inheritance

if only I am willing

to open the door

to the universe

that is waiting:

endless wisdom,

endless light,

endless love.

At that moment

when I fear all is lost

and surely I will be ground down

under a weight far too heavy

for a boy of fourteen to bear,

Suddenly, I hear birds sing.

I feel light so loving, 

warm and pure

grow intense.

Without realizing it, 

my eyes are opened,

my head is raised.

In wonder, I behold

two personages glowing 

brighter than the noonday sun.

The elder points to the younger,

smiles and simply says,

This is my beloved son.  Hear him.

I know without a shadow

of doubt

that I am with the center,

the origin,

the heart

and soul,

the very essence 

of everything,

the great

I am.

My life and this world

simply can never be the same.

Ever.

About this poem:  I woke up early the other morning.  I'd had a dream.  Pretty simple.  In a beautiful pastoral setting at sunset, the songwriter Sting was singing the first verse of what is now the poem.  I wish I could have written down the music as it was quite beautiful.   Instead, I got up and wrote the words down.  I only had the first verse, but as I continued, I realized I was writing Joseph Smith's first vision.    

I wake up frequently from dreams lately with just what I need.  For the first time in my life, I feel fully open to a full range of possibilities.  There is growing evidence that the world we see is only limited by what we are open to perceive.  Whatever lenses we cling to define our reality.  View light as a particle, and it is so.  View light as wave, and it is so--even through the objective lens of science.  Not that all visions are real.  Believing something does not make it so.  Not believing, however, does void it as a possible glimpse into an unknown universe.  You cannot see light you are unwilling to let in.  I'm done narrowing my world to what I see through pinholes.  It's time to float around, almost weightless, and explore this great big complex existence called life fully.

I'm so grateful for life, for this continual journey, to learn, to grow, to evolve over time into something more than the simple innocence which we come into the world as.  Experience is grand indeed.