Showing posts with label David Wilcox. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Wilcox. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 4, 2020

"i'll meet you there..."


"When the soul
lies down in that grass,
the world is too full
to talk about..."

David Wilcox and Nancy Petit's, "Out Beyond Ideas,"  gives musical form to the poet Rumi's profound invitation that we meet him in the field where healing and understanding take root and bear fruit.

Recently, my loved friend Ginny Nilsen shared this passage from an essay "Through My Enemy's Eyes" [A Journal of Positive Futures - Winter 2002.] It touches so beautifully on this "place" that is so critical to spiritual healing:


"Inmate proposes alternative to dualistic thinking:

Prison inmate and former prison-rights activist Troy Chapman, sentenced at the age of 21 to life in prison, discusses what he calls "the third side":

"I had spent most of my life splitting the world up into two sides, then fighting to defend one against the other. It was a game in which there were strategies, a clear objective, a field of play, and an opponent.

The poet Rumi pointed to something beyond this game when he said,

'Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing there is a field. I'll meet you there.'

"When I began to see myself in other -— even in my enemies -— I found myself heading for Rumi's field. Here the game is not a game. No one wins unless and until everyone wins. The line between victim and perpetrator no longer runs between 'I' and 'Other.' It now runs right through the center of my soul. I am both, as we are all both.

"What then is left to fight for? Where does an out-of-work activist go? Well, God is hiring and God is on the third side. Not the prisoner's side or the jailer's side. Not the Left or the Right.

"The third side is that little-represented side of healing. It's the side that cares as much about the enemy as the friend, that says love is the only justice, the only victory there is. It does not want anyone destroyed. It does not want to win if someone else must lose. It wants something much larger than winning and losing."

"Through my enemy's eyes"
Yes! A Journal of Positive Futures
Winter 2002”


Isn't this the "side" that Jesus advocated for. The place from which he wrote in the dust and urged self-righteous indignation to sit in the quiet field of self-examination and compassion.

Isn't this the only place from which he could have said [as reported in Luke's gospel]:


"love your enemies and do good,
and lend, hoping for nothing again.

for He is kind unto the unthankful,
and to the evil.

Be ye therefore merciful;
Judge not,
and ye shall not be judged;
Condemn not,
and ye shall not be condemned;
Forgive,
and ye shall be forgiven..."

To gather in this field of the third side, is to listen with the heart. And to do so, without the filter of self-certainty and pre-judgment. It is to take off one's shoes and walk on holy ground.

My sister, Nancy Mullane, wrote a book titled, "Life After Murder: Five Men in Search of Redemption." In it she shares the journeys of five men who'd been found guilty of murder and sentenced to life in prison with the possibility of parole. She tells their stories with a journalist's clear, unbiased voice.

I remember reading one man's chilling account of the crime that had led to his incarceration. Earlier, I had met this man at Nancy's book launch event -- after he had been released on parole. He was humble, thoughtful, and gracious. Reading his story, I felt myself take off my shoes and step into that field. I was beyond my own long-held preconceived notions of what kind of man would commit murder. I was willing to hear his story through the lens of his heart -- without bias or fear.

I also remember, so clearly, the tears I shed for that young man, who'd barely been an adult, when a robbery went horribly wrong. And the sudden realization that:


"There, but for the grace of God, go I...”


How many times had I lost my temper as a teenager fighting with my sister over a shared skirt or a missing shoe. How often had I lashed out, said something unkind, pinched, or even thrown a hair brush.  In those moments I was "out of control" -- willing to act on hair-trigger emotions. But I'd also had the privilege of access to books, counselors, and an extended family of spiritual resources for diffusing frustration and feelings of helplessness.

In this field beyond the ideas right and wrong-doing -- and who is on which side -- I felt a new sense of what it meant to have "an understanding heart." This understanding wasn't about figuring out the meaning of a spiritual text. It was about standing next to someone and looking at things from their point of view for the purpose of understanding where they were coming from -- without judgment or opinion. It was the feeling of their hand in yours and the pulse of your common humanity.  It was sharing the space of the third side.

I think Troy Chapman says it so well in the above essay:


"The third side is that little-represented side of healing.

It's the side that cares as much about the enemy 

as the friend, that says love is the only justice, 
the only victory there is.

It does not want anyone destroyed. It does not want to win
if someone else must lose. It wants something much larger
than winning and losing...”

It wants healing -- for one, and for all. It is the place where, as Mary Baker Eddy writes in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:


"Love is impartial and universal
in its adaptation and bestowals.”

I will meet you there.

offered with Love,



Kate

After reading this post, Ginny sent me a clip from Harry and Meghan's Royal Wedding with this performance of The Kingdom Choir singing "Stand By Me,"  let's stand by one another within the space of the third side.



Friday, April 14, 2017

"beloved, it is time for you to rise..."



"Beloved, it is time
for you to rise..."


This morning as the sun crested Sleeping Indian, I couldn't help but think about another Easter weekend. It was over a decade ago, but the memories are as fresh as this morning's dew.

David Wilcox's "Rise," brings it all back. And along with the memories, tears of gratitude.

I wrote about the experience in 2006 when it was still quite fresh.  Revisiting that post, this afternoon, was profoundly moving for me. Here is an excerpt:

"Depression which had only been a far-off land - visited by other people - became my prison. Escape seemed to come only with dreaming, and sleep was the vehicle for getting to this place of reprieve. I lived in limbo between the waking reality of my sadness, and the hypnotic invitation to escape from that sadness, through sleep.

"Depression -- and the constant invitation by pharmaceutical companies to join the club of millions who suffer from countless symptoms that only their drug can relieve -- invites its victim to let go, and sink deeper. To give in to the weight of its pull, like a tired swimmer in an endless whirlpool of overwhelming emotions.

Wilcox's "Rise" was a life preserver thrown to me when I was most exhausted from that downward spiral..."
 

Today, that depression seems like a bad dream that I simply woke up from. But at the time, I couldn't even imagine rousing myself, much less breaking free.

Recently, someone suggested that depression was something  a mutual friend just needed to "snap out of." I tried to explain that -- when you were in the midst of it -- it wasn't as easy as that.  It felt very ominous and real.  Depression felt like a living thing.

I remember the feeling of being caught under a heavy cloud of darkness. And at the time, I found myself thinking about that feeling a lot.  What did it mean, when did it start, how had it changed?  But it was the feeling of heaviness which gave me my first clue that -- perhaps -- there was a way out. 


I realized that I could only be aware of the heaviness,  because I had experienced something else - something lighter. I was aware of the difference.  That meant that the lightness was still part of my consciousness. And somehow, I knew that lightness and joy were better - more natural - than the heavy darkness.

This realization was like the sun breaking through. In fact, I remember one day in particular when a shaft of sunlight coming through the bedroom window was like an invitation. I engaged with it. I let it call me out from under the bedcovers and onto the back deck where I delighted in the dance of a pair of mourning doves. 


As I watched them, it occurred to me that I actually cared about them. I wanted to get up and fill the bird feeder. Love for these gentle beings was giving me a sense of purpose, and it was bringing me such pure joy. I held on to the fact that I could actually feel and experience that simple joy -- for many days.

Someone once asked me if I had forgotten how to pray during that time. No. Actually, I prayed without ceasing. In fact, I think I learned something very beautiful about prayer during those dark days. Prayer was not something I did.  It was not my thinking. Prayer was/is, as Mary Baker Eddy says on the first page of her primary work, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures:


"God's gracious means..."
 

Because I didn't trust my own thinking, I stopped thinking -- and started listening more humbly, attentively, hungrily for the voice of my Father-Mother God. The inspirations that came were not "of me," -- that was clear.  They were so pure and lovely that they often brought me to my knees in abject gratitude.

Depression was my tomb. Depression was the lonely place where I began to strip away the false sense of human endeavor, and accomplishment. I really didn't trust "my mind," but I trusted the Mind that held the stars in order, that called the leaflet to the sun, that poured inspiration into my waiting heart.

I was sad, but I was alive. I was sad, but I wanted happiness and goodness for my daughters. I was sad, but I was able to get up and make breakfast for my family. Yes, I was sad, but that was just a feeling -- and feelings weren't necessarily facts. They didn't define me. I was sad, but I could love.  This defined me -- even to myself. 


These small moments of love lived, were like a kind stranger calling a frightened kitten out from beneath a dumpster. Before long, I was drinking the milk of the Word from the hand of the Divine.

As I ponder the Easter story tonight, I can't help but think of how many small resurrections we each face. For some of us, these resurrections come in the form of a renewed sense of wonder. For others it may come in the form of new love. For many, it appears as healing in a relationship that held no hope. And for others, it is the stone of sadness being rolled away from the where we have "buried our fondest earthly, [and heavenly] hopes" -- as Eddy suggests.

Jesus' resurrection was an event of unprecedented import and opened an entire new world of spiritual expectancy for the human race. Life triumphed over death, love over hate, and hope over despair. For each of us, this event -- which took place over 2,000 years ago -- offers the promise of freedom from the depressing thought that we are mortals subject to laws of heredity, history, and psycho-social theories of chance and unpredictability. 


 In her, First Church of Christ, Scientist, and Miscellany, Mary Baker Eddy writes:

"A great sanity,
a mighty something buried
in the depths of the unseen,
has wrought a resurrection among you,
and has leaped into living love. "
 

This "great sanity" of being -- is living love. This is the sanity that lays waste to depression. This resurrection - this mighty something - may seem buried within the depths of the unseen, but it is there. It is the kingdom of God within each of us.  And it leaps into action at the call of love.

May your heart feel the joy of this Easter promise. May you feel the peace of this mighty something -- and may it work a resurrection among you, and yours, and all -- leaping, and singing, and living love.


offered with Love,


Kate

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

"Carried by the surprise of its own unfolding..."

"When you hear the sound from
far enough away
even dynamite can purr..."

-     David Wilcox

The following post from December, 2010, has been such a great reminder of late. Some things are enduring and changeless...

Those who know me, know that I love quotes.  I love the feeling of "relationship," I discover in a shared love for ideas...and for a writer's succinct articulation of those ideas.

I also love the connections, the synapses, made between seemingly disparate ideas as they move through the corridors of my heart.  That happened for me today on a number of fronts. 

It started when I came upon a tiny scrippity scrap of notebook paper, on which I'd written the following quote one wintery afternoon, a couple of years ago. 

"She liked unfinished.  She liked process.
She liked moving things -- rivers, clouds, heartbeats."

-  Alice Hoffman  (The Third Angel)

The quote struck me immediately the first time I read it...and it did again this morning when I found it in the leaves of Hoffman's book. It resonates with how I feel about things.  I like process...I am not at all eager for things to be "done."  I like the feeling of Life (vitality, creativity, serendipity) flowing through our lives like a river...changing and shifting its outline and form moment-by-moment. 

And by reciprocity, the river has a transformative effect on the landscape.  The "ground" which gives the river its surprisingly beautiful, undulating, and meandering boundaries, is changed by the river's course.  It alters those same banks...molecule-by-molecule...moment-by-moment as it carves and sculpts its host landscape.  There is something so organic and alive about things that are pulsing with process.  There is a relationship that cannot be one-sided. 

So, this morning, as I was reading this quote, I started thinking about rivers and couldn't help but start humming, "
Just Around The River Bend," from Disney's Pocahontas. 

"What I love most about rivers is
You can't step in the same river twice
The water's always changing
always flowing..."

"Yes," I thought, "it all fits."  That serendipitous sense of Life in which we allow one moment, to flow into another.  When we surrender to a divine surprise.  When we are more in love with the process, than a product. 

And
then I caught my friend Randall's posting of a David Wilcox house concert performance of his song, "Dynamite in the Distance" on Facebook. 

In his opening remarks David gives words to what I feel in my heart, about the process of writing, praying, living.  He says:

"I have loved the process of writing for a long time...not the product, so much, but the process.  It's my way of finding the elements of my story that I don't want to miss, before it's too late.  

"It's about finding places in my heart that have been covered and buried, and locked in storage, and getting them back so I can be more alive. 

"So, it is bewildering for people who come, when I teach songwriting, because they are expecting me to tell them how to make a song sound like a song, how it ought to sound...how to fill out the form.  

"But I don't want to fill out the form,
I want to be informed.


"I want the song to tell me what it knows, I don't want to make it do anything.  If I start out with a guitar riff, or a little phrase, and it moves me, I trust that it moves me because it's coming from a place that I am going.

"And my heart catches a point of view as if it's a vista that I haven't even hiked to yet.  But it's a way of seeing.  It's almost as if I could see from the point of view of who I could become.  Wow...now that saved my life.

"I need music.  I need it to remind me."


"Wow," I thought, "just wow..."

Then I remembered the writings of the late Celtic sage - poet, philosopher, and spiritual luminary - John O'Donahue.  I have been swimming, floating, drowning in his words for the past few years. His quotes have been the thoughts I've wrapped myself up in -- like the old quilts hanging on walls, folded in piles, and stacked cupboards throughout our home.  Here are two that I especially love tonight. They are like snipped pieces of fabric from favorite old dresses, now sewn into a patchwork blanket of ideas.   They are so softened by wear, that I often find myself stroking them whenever I am snuggled under the weight of his words:

"As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become."

"I would love to live like a river flows,
carried by the surprise of its own unfolding."


So, I don't know that this post has a punchline.  Tonight there really is no clear "message," or "product."  Just some thoughts to flow through the landscape of your heart.  If they carve a new bank...or just eddy for a while...wonderful.  I hope you enjoy the sound of this river's song...

with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

"Even dynamite can purr..."

"When you hear the sound from
far enough away
even dynamite can purr..."

-     David Wilcox

Those who know me, know that I love quotes.  I love the feeling of relationship/friendship I find in a shared love for ideas...and for that writer's succinct articulation of those ideas.

I also love the connections, the synapses made between seemingly disparate ideas when they move through the corridors of my heart.  That happened for me today on a number of fronts. 

It started when I came upon a tiny scrippity scrap of notebook paper on which I'd written the following quote one wintery afternoon, a couple of years ago. 

"She liked unfinished.  She liked process.
She liked moving things -- rivers, clouds, heartbeats."

-  Alice Hoffman  (The Third Angel)

The quote struck me immediately the first time I read it...and it did again this morning when I found my scribblings, in the leaves of Hoffman's book. It resonates with how I feel about things.  I like process...I am not at all eager for things to be "done."  I like the feeling of Life (vitality, creation, surprise) flowing through our lives like a river...changing and shifting its outline and form moment-by-moment. 

And by reciprocity, the river has a transformative effect on the landscape.  The "ground" which gives the river its surprisingly beautiful undulating and meandering boundaries, is changed by the river's course.  It alters those same banks...molecule-by-molecule... moment-by-moment as it carves and sculpts its host landscape.  There is something so organic and alive about things that are pulsing with process.  There is a relationship that cannot be one-sided. 

So, this morning, as I was reading this quote, I started thinking about rivers and couldn't help but start humming, "
Just Around The River Bend," from Disney's Pocahontas. 

"What I love most about rivers is
You can't step in the same river twice
The water's always changing
always flowing..."

"Yes," I thought, "it all fits."  That serendipitous sense of Life in which we allow one moment to flow into another.  When we surrender to a divine surprise.  When we are more in love with the process, than a product. 

And
then I caught my friend Randall's posting of a David Wilcox house concert performance of his song, "Dynamite in the Distance" on Facebook. 

In his opening remarks David gives words to what I feel, in my heart, about the process of writing, praying, living.  He says:

"I have loved the process of writing for a long time...not the product, so much, but the process.  It's my way of finding the elements of my story that I don't want to miss, before it's too late.  

"It's about finding places in my heart that have been covered and buried, and locked in storage, and getting them back so I can be more alive. 

"So, it is bewildering for people who come, when I teach songwriting, because they are expecting me to tell them how to make a song sound like a song, how it ought to sound...how to fill out the form.  

"But I don't want to fill out the form,
I want to be informed.


"I want the song to tell me what it knows, I don't want to make it do anything.  If I start out with a guitar riff, or a little phrase, and it moves me, I trust that it moves me because it's coming from a place that I am going.

"And my heart catches a point of view as if it's a vista that I haven't even hiked to yet.  But it's a way of seeing.  It's almost as if I could see from the point of view of who I could become.  Wow...now that saved my life.

"I need music.  I need it to remind me."


"Wow," I thought, "just wow..."

Then I remembered the writings of the late Celtic sage - poet, philosopher, and spiritual luminary - John O'Donahue.  I have been swimming, floating, drowning in his words for the past few weeks. His quotes have been the thoughts I've wrapped myself up in...like the old quilts hanging on walls, and folded in piles and cupboards throughout our home.  Here are two, that are like snipped pieces of fabric from favorite old dresses.   They are so softened by wear that I often find myself stroking them whenever I am snuggled under the weight of his words:

"As water takes whatever shape it is in,
So free may you be about who you become."

"I would love to live like a river flows,
carried by the surprise of its own unfolding."


So, I don't know that this post has a punchline.  Tonight there really is no clear "message" or "product."  Just some thoughts to let flow through the landscape of your heart.  If they carve a new bank, or just eddy for a while...wonderful.  I hope you enjoy the sound of this river's song...

with Love,
Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

Thursday, April 16, 2009

"But it's your kindness that I love best..."

"...I love your vision of the future
Your hope that never dies
But it's your kindness
That clears my skies..."

David Wilcox
"
Kindness"
(click on the title just above to see a video of this song)

My sister Fawn sent me this little story recently:

"One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people.

He said: 'My son, the battle is between 'two wolves' inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.

The grandson thought about it for a minute, and then asked his grandfather: 'Which wolf wins?'

The old Cherokee simply replied: 'The one you feed.'"


What I love about this story is the separation the grandfather makes between the individual...and the wolves.  It's not a new concept...how many times in old Tom & Jerry cartoons do we see the big tomcat with a horned demon on one shoulder, and an angel on the other, each trying to convince him of their point of view or position...torment little Jerry, or let him go?

I have been thinking about this today in light of a recent conversation with a friend about social responsibility. 

When I am presented with options...pay my taxes or not, support legislation that would ban same-sex marriage - or not, protest the freedom to bear arms - or not, give the man on the corner money for a sandwich - or not, go the speed limit at 4 AM on an empty stretch of highway - or not, get myself out the door to serve at a homeless shelter, or stay home in my jammies and read the NYTimes (hmmm...) ...I am trying to ask myself "what am I feeding" with my choices.   Will I be contributing to a climate of greed or generosity, fear or love, manipulative control or trust, cultural disparity or unity, humanity or insanity, compassion or disdain, equality or superiority, universal freedom or the enslavement of other for the profiting of the privileged, war or peace, service or indulgence, divisiveness or cooperation...in myself, or in the world?

In asking myself these questions, I keep coming back to the internal battle between the two "wolves" (or sheep and goats) that Jesus describes, and Matthew records, in the New Testament:

"When the Son of man shall come in his glory, and all the holy angels with him, then shall he sit upon the throne of his glory.  And before him shall be gathered all nations, and he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats.  And he shall set the sheep on his right hand, but the goats on the left.

Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, "Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.  For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat.  I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink.  I was a stranger, and ye took me in.  Naked, and ye clothed me.  I was sick, and ye visited me.  I was in prison, and ye came unto me."

Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, "Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee?  Or thirsty, and gave thee drink?  When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in?   Or naked, and clothed thee?  Or when saw we thee sick?  Or in prison, and came unto thee?"

And the King shall answer and say unto them, "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

Then shall he say also unto them on the left hand, "Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.  For I was an hungered, and ye gave me no meat.  I was thirsty, and ye gave me no drink.  I was a stranger, and ye took me not in.  Naked, and ye clothed me not.  Sick, and in prison, and ye visited me not."

Then shall they also answer him, saying, "Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, or athirst, or a stranger, or naked, or sick, or in prison, and did not minister unto thee?"

Then shall he answer them, saying, "Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye did it not to one of the least of these, ye did it not to me."

And these shall go away into everlasting punishment: but the righteous into life eternal."


So I have to ask myself, "Who are "the least of these" that I must care for?  What would make me feel that I am responsible for the cares, woes, education, and shelter of MY daughters, but not the child and her battered mother - sleeping in a Detroit homeless shelter, or the man begging on the streets of Calcutta?"

What concepts about myself, and my relationship to the world around me, am I feeding?  One of universal and impartial goodness - abundant resources that we are entrusted with for the care and feeding of humanity, or one of privilege and partiality based on opportunity, race, education, religion, geography, cultural history?  What language do I think God's angels use to guide my actions -- generosity, abundance, charity, freedom, compassion, hope...or greed, fear, blindness, pride, resentment, arrogance?

I don't think these questions are about politics, nationalism, haves and/or have nots.  Politics and rhetoric would distract us from the real choices.  And it is not about choosing a party, a leader, a position, a side, or a dogma.  The real choice lies in which wolf...which voice...we are going to feed within ourselves.  And we must not judge one another.  Only the listener knows whether his (or her) speech and actions are the result of feeding one wolf, or the other, moment-by-moment.  And I don't know about you, but I have too much that I need to be alert to in my own heart, to try and police the thoughts, motives, or actions of another.  So,  I choose to trust that each of my brothers and sisters is feeding the wolf that they want to see grow stronger in themselves, and in the world.

"...I love your wisdom
Your knowledge of the past
Your willingness to listen
Your taste for what will last

I love your compassion for the suffering
And your solid happiness
But it's your kindness
That I love the best..."

Thank you David (and Fawn)...you have both reminded me, once again, of what is truly beautiful in this world...and I am grateful,

Kate
Kate Robertson, CS

Saturday, December 2, 2006

"Rise up...with a sudden sense of wonder..."


Often the most surprising (and frequent) source for life-transforming inspiration and comfort comes to me through song lyrics.  Anyone who knows me knows that this has always been a theme in my life.  I can chronicle my entire 52 years in songs.  Its almost as if I am taking this spiritual journey in a '69 Jeep with a radio playing all the time.   I think this may be why hymns, traditional spirituals, Hebrew and African worship or contemporary Christian gospel, praise -- and yes, pop/folk--music resonates with my deepest longings for a more visceral sense of my relationship to God.   I do find my day-to-day grounding from Bible-based research and study, but there are those moments when something in me shifts to an inner landscape where the heart lies open and naked ready to be clothed anew.

Sometimes this shift occurs when inspiring and evocative songs create a catalytic charge that triggers an avalanche-like dislodging of all that is not inherently good and pure.  This crumbling away makes silent space for other songs of inspiration that allow a reforestation of this inner landscape with tender seedlings of hope...in the rich soil of humility and grace.  The following song by singer/songwriter David Wilcox is just one of those songs.  "Rise" (lyrics below) came into my life on the heels of a period when I was stripped of all pretense and self-preservation.

Finding the courage to take divinely inspired steps into uncharted territory had left me drowning in a deep pool of sorrow for all that had been hoped for, but would never be.   The cleared path that followed my own life-transforming avalanche now looked like empty loneliness and confusion.  Depression which had only been a far-off land visited by others now became my prison.  Escape seemed to come only with dreaming, and sleep was the vehicle for getting to this place of reprieve.   I lived in limbo between the waking reality of my sadness and the dreamy invitation to escape from that sadness, through sleep. 

Depression, and the constant invitation by pharmaceutical companies to join the club of millions who suffer from countless symptoms that only their drug can relieve, invites its victim to let go and sink deeper into the weight of its pull like a tired swimmer in an endless whirlpool of overwhelming emotions.

Wilcox's "Rise" was a life preserver thrown to me when I was most exhausted from the downward spiral I was in.  I would listen to this song in the car as I carried out the details of my day. Details which required that I get dressed and leave the hypnotic cocoon of sleep and dreaming for school hallways, coffeehouses, and church-baed responsibilities.  One morning after the children had left for school I climbed back into bed begging God for just one more hour of dreaming.  But without even asking for it (in fact I was actually begging for its opposite), the heaviness in my head, eyes, and limbs lifted like the fog off a New England lake early on a summer morning, and I could feel the sun on the side of my face.

My familiarity with the lyrics to "Rise" swept over my heart like the wings of angels...."
The sun itself is in the room beside you...With a message of how good your life can be..." In that moment I would remember that the sun which came through the window and sat in the room beside me was a reminder of how good my life could be.  And because "what blesses one, blesses all" I could know that everyone who shared that room with me was touched by the light, warmed by its touch, and illumined by its wisdom.  The words of comfort and encouragement I found in this song were divine messages on the wings of angels for me.   Over and over these angel messages swept their wings over my heart until all the dust and cobwebs of depression were gone.  And I rose....

Wilcox, in the liner notes for this CD titled
Into the Mystery shares, "I have fallen in love with music again.  I feel like my first ten recordings were practice, and now I'm ready to begin.  These songs are able to say what I never could find words for.  Enjoy!  Thank you for listening." No, David...thank you for not stopping after recording number nine, thank you for continuing to let your heart stay open to the raw beauty of honesty and for sharing your inner journey with others.  Thank you for letting me hear your words and thank you for trusting all of us, your faithful listeners,  with your truth.  Thank you for sending your words on angels wings to save me from despair and to plant a seedling of hope in my heart.  I am tending it with love and patience.  Thank you.

Sometime "a song is
just a song"....or is it?

Rise
"I see you dreaming by the ocean window
I hear you breathing like the waves upon the shore
The tide is turning on this time of sorrow
You will never be so lonesome any more

The breezes whisper as the curtain dances
Your dreams are deeper than the mystery of the sea
The sun itself is in the room beside you
With a message of how good your life can be

I know that a heart can just get buried
Stone by stone, crushing hope until it dies
Far away, but the message somehow carries
Beloved, it is time for you to rise.

Time for you to RISE UP...
With a sudden sense of wonder
RISE UP
As the joy comes to your eyes
RISE UP
From the burden you've been under
Beloved, it is time for you to rise.

There's nothing wrong with taking time for sleeping
Your eyes are weary with the things that you have seen
A deeper promise is what your soul is keeping
Right in time for this appointment in your dream

Angels whisper so as not to wake you
There's nothing else in this whole world for you to do
But follow on to where your dream may take you
To see your footsteps from an eagle's point of view

Now I know that a heart can just get buried
Stone by stone, crushing hope until it dies
Far away, but the message somehow carries
Beloved, it is time for you to rise.

Time for you to
RISE UP
Though the promise goes unspoken
RISE UP
When the joy comes to your eyes
RISE UP
For your soul was never broken
Beloved it is time for you to rise
Time for you rise."

- David Wilcox


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