Universal law

Run with the metaphor, see where it takes you.

She says,

In death,               

He practices

Universal Law.

It is unclear to me

Whether he is lawyer

Or judge

Or if the system

(Such as it is)

Is unlike anything

We have witnessed

Yet.

As with my clients

I run with the metaphor,

Find the truth

That resides there.

Universal Law

Seems a good thing,

A very good thing.

Even carried to its extreme.

Like those trees that grow

In the Garden,

Like those trees

Bearing fruit

Each leaf offered for healing.

Run with the metaphor.

There is truth there.

Universal Law

Hung on a tree

For the healing

Of nations

Bread

I am the Bread of Life. Yeah. Right. Huh?

Jesus meant a lot of things

When he talked about Bread.

No wonder his disciples

Were confused.

Still

He didn’t say

Fools

It’s a metaphor.

He just kept talking,

Tried something different

Perhaps if he talked

Perhaps if they listened

Long enough

They would get it.

I’m not sure they ever

Really did.

Still

They trailed behind him

Walked next to him

Perhaps soon

It would be clear.

Add water

More Wizard of Oz (see yesterday*s reflection).  I am still considering melting the new supervisor with a bucket of water.  I imagine by Monday I will be able to wish her well.  This week I count the people I will miss and spend some good time with them.  Next Monday I will not carry water with me.

The new supervisor

(Not mine)

Says she knows everything.

She believes that an intern

And a volunteer counselor

Are exactly

The same thing.

No.

Since I no longer count hours;

Since next Monday

Is my final day

As a volunteer,

I count the people

I will miss.

I count my way

To a good ending,

One conversation

At a time.

After I metaphorically

Drop a house

On the new supervisor,

In my head,

Mind you,

I consider buckets of water

And then

Only then

I wish her well:

Out loud.

Drop a house

This morning I am grateful for the Wizard of Oz and all its useful metaphors.  It is rivaled by Alice in Wonderland and, of course, the Bible.  Not that I would ever label anyone a witch... not me... but there is something cathartic about picturing a house whirling out of the sky and nailing a witch-like person.

It is Tuesday morning.

Already I have a list of people

On whom

I would like

To drop a house.

I take entirely too much pleasure

In the metaphor.

I know this.

It is only Tuesday.

The week has barely begun.

I line up people

Consider the houses

I would drop,

Picture the ankles with striped socks

Underneath.

The new refrigerator

The new kitchen is not quite done.  The contractor called this morning, wanting to install the backsplash tomorrow.  We have not made the tile choice... the last piece of the kitchen quilt.  It is now scheduled to be installed a week from tomorrow.  It does help to have a deadline. Meanwhile I sat with a client this week who had made one small, though wonderful, decision.  We illuminated it.  We practiced what might come next  Next on the homefront is helping the old refrigerator take the next step out the front door.

The new refrigerator

Has a spot for everything

Necessary;

Two or three spots

For the unnecessary.

Already I imagine

What the wine rack

On the door

Might hold.

Probably not

Wine.

The new refrigerator

Does not offer a magnetic place

For those necessary notes

Or even the unnecessary ones

That covered the front and side

Of the old refrigerator.

The old waits to be cleaned out:

A metaphor for something

I know.

Everything is.

The old refrigerator still stands

In the living room.

It is one step

From the front door.

Detox

The field of recovery from substance abuse, the twelve steps of AA, offers a range of helpful metaphors, for anyone and everyone making any kind of change in his or her life.  Today I am in detox.  I am not an alcoholic, but still, change does not come easy.  First of all, it is important to let go.

Today I am in detox.

I aim for recovery

In time.

Today I am in detox.

I admit that I am powerless.

I know that God

Is just around the corner.

I reclaim power

By finding

A good metaphor.

The metaphor provides space

To reconsider

What it seems

Has always been

The case.

A good metaphor

Allows space

To turn things

Upside down

Inside out;

To stand on the moon

Perhaps,

See the earth

From a different place

Entirely.

Grout with sand

Today the upstairs bathroom is being grouted with two different kinds of grout.  Who knew there were so many kinds?  I remember my parishioner from years ago who regaled me with stories of all the different kinds of paint and coatings required for bridges.  Why does it surprise me that grout is as varied?  

My love has gone to the tile store.

It seems the tile guy

Needs more grout,

Grout with sand

For the floor.

Gray.

It seems

There are almost

As many kinds and colors

Of grout

As stars in the sky

Pebbles on the beach,

Whichever metaphor

For abundance

We choose.

Yesterday the acupuncture lady

Told me

She is grout too.

She connects people

In different ways

Than I do.

I am grout.

Perhaps even grout with sand.

I have company

Sometimes all it takes is a story

Stories and metaphors have a way about them.  They help us name things in a different way: dress them up, dress them down... sometimes laugh at the silliness of ourselves, in the guise of such as the farmer buried in corn. This is a Garrison Keillor story (Minnesota humor).   Despite my having been reared in the big city of Minneapolis, it names truth about my story as well.   I am still regularly buried in corn, despite having lived away from Minnesota for years.

Sometimes all it takes

Is a story

Like this one:

There once was a farmer

In Minnesota,

Trapped by corn

In his silo

While his children waited

For the school bus.

The farmer did not call out

Until his children were dropped off

In the afternoon.

School was important

After all.

I know that farmer.

I was that farmer

Often

I am that farmer

Buried in corn.

Sometimes all it takes

Is a story.

I could wrap myself around that story,

Claim it for my own;

Dress it up,

Dress it down,

Hold it out

For viewing,

My own and others*.

There is often great power

In a story.

Sometimes all it takes

Is a story.

The Minnesota in me

Buried in corn

Sometimes waits and waits

No trouble at all

Nope

No trouble at all.

Watch the metaphor

This reflection began (of course) with the first line.  I thought I knew where it was going.  I didn*t.  It seemed to want to be something else.  Who knew?

Metaphors go only so far

Before their limits are reached.

Still

There is hope they may take us further

Than simple explanation,

Plain vanilla words,

No pictures involved.

I prefer the kind

With dark vanilla bean specks,

Rich flavor,

The kind which allows my mind

To wander through the categories,

Re-sort  items

Into new Fiestaware dishes,

All different colors,

Apply the perfect hot fudge topping,

Whipped cream,

A sprinkle of chopped nuts (assorted),

And a definitive

Maraschino cherry

On top.

I love metaphors

I just finished Richard Rohr*s Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life.  I think I will read it again.  It is difficult to describe.  Probably not a book to discuss one evening in a book group.  It helped me name a number of things I have been experiencing, including the lack of a need to box and label things to keep them in order.  I was delighted to hear my daughter declare a love for metaphors this week.  Another connection.

I love metaphors,

She says,

Fifteen and learning

There is more than one way

To describe anything.

I am in the second half of life

As we know it.

I love metaphors as well.

The book on the second half of life

Speaks of rafts and shores,

Finally landing in a place

And staying there.

Me?

I am a desert island

No raft adrift on an endless ocean

Seeking shore.

It is an endless ocean but I

I am somehow not adrift.

I do not need to travel anywhere.

I discover where I am.

I know shore connects to shore

Under the water.

I know shore connects to shore

With the water itself.

Sometimes new land emerges in a place

Never imagined

Underground oceanic volcanoes

I have never seen,

Seismic activity on the Richter scale

If I measure.

New unclaimed land.

I am connected there as well.

With my daughter

I love metaphors

We discover there is more than one way

To name anything

And everything.