Lenten Writing Prompt #1
"From dust you were formed and to dust you shall return.” Our relationship with dust is Biblical and the dust in our lives today comes
in so many forms. Write about a kind of dust
today – stardust, dust in your house, a dusty trail, an object that has dust on
it. Connect it to the dust symbolized in Ash Wednesday, reminding
us that life as we know it is finite. If you receive ashes today, feel commissioned to go
deep through writing, reading and praying along these next 40
days.
God go with you.
God go with you.
Dust? Nothing I love better! And I've even come to think of Dust Day as one of the high points of the year. Pancakes are good on Tuesday, but nothing quite beats the imposition of ashes and the reminder that at some point in the future I get to return to the cosmos. Juxtaposed against the shining of transfiguration, comes a moment to remember the way in which we all glitter a bit inside during our mortal stay on earth. No day seems to capture more fully the unity of all things, the stuff we share. The air, the water, the earth beneath our feet. No day offers more possibilities for renewal, transformation. Oh, perhaps I go too far in that, because at the end of this Lenten time will come the promise of new life. Ah, but today I will be one with all that surrounds me, for we are all the same, all stardust. I would shout one more Alleluia, but my lips are sealed.
ReplyDeleteGloria;
Delete'tis a joy to walk this path with you. fine thoughts.
ronaldo
Very joyful poem! Loved it!
DeleteI said poem but I meant 'piece', it was very poetic though! ; )
DeleteThe unity of all things .......I would shout one more Alleluia, but my lips are sealed......somehow these are powerful phrases that I will take with me into tomorrow. Thanks for giving me good phrases to carry with me
DeleteDusty
ReplyDeleteAsh Wednesday 2015
Slouched hat, wrangler shirt, rough pants, a cowpoke’s saunter,
Bright eyes taking in the surroundings, ready for gentle banter,
This fella’, the everyday high desert gent, not far from his horse,
Comes down the path ready to pause, enter into discourse.
“Howdy, what’s going on for you this day?”
“I see you’ve got water, oil, ashes, wine, bread on your tray.”
“Have you all you need to begin the big trek?”
“What else do you bring as these forty days dissect?”
Leaning comfortably on the corral post,
Not a care presenting, no need for a toast,
Word Made Flesh ever shows up, the honest human,
Ever interested in soul’s state, heart’s treasure span;
There’s a connection between forehead cross and soul mark.
Faith embraces all: light supernal to sightless dark.
This seasoning season brings a myriad of choices to make,
Since we’re first in line shall we overfill or in moderation take?
“Do you know my partner, Breath of Joy, she’s a wonder?”
“Don’t worry, nor fret, all fears, hurts, she puts asunder.”
“Our third-some maintains the store, Keeper of All, her name.”
“Never a need unmet, a supply unfurnished, step up make your claim.”
“Tell you what, looks like we’re headin’ down the same path.”
“Mind if we come along, some unsavory varmints might vent sin’s wrath.”
“Together our adventure will move along fine,
Taking each moment as it comes like the aging of a stellar wine.”
“I know your name down to the first of your family folk.”
“Always a joy to find you in the servant band, my cosmic yolk;”
“You’ve got my baptism tatt, I put there long ago.”
“Let’s move out, the road ahead beckons, time we grace do sow.”
The Rev. Ronald Allen Melver, M.Div.
18.2.15
Very fun poem - love putting this conversation in a different kind of context than one would expect.
DeleteCowboy Ronoldo! Well I never!. Ride on....
DeleteDust to dust. I thought turning into dust was a private thing that happened in the dark long after you were gone. At 70 years old the phrase has an oppressive presence as I see myself constantly losing my dust in a myriad of ways a little at a time . The dusting seems to be a constant but very light exhaust of dust. All of me will not turn into dust all at once, but seems to go a little at a time and has been, for some time. After a lifetime of being able to play guitar with my fingers, my nails are no longer strong. They crumble and split incessantly, and keep me from playing. My mind is losing its strength. I can’t juggle as many things in process as I used to and it bothers me. I know I can’t do much about it, but I watch myself become less of myself like the air going out of a balloon, or the fading memory of a once clear picture. In another way, I am like the car that the family rode in to California in the movie Grapes of Wrath. Not so much that they wore it out, but that as they went along, they unloaded it. I find I can unload and put things down that I used to feel compelled to carry for reasons that no longer grip me. I hold tighter to things and people that are precious to me. I find I enjoy smaller things. I let people do things for me where I would not have done so earlier.
ReplyDeleteIt is eerie and terrible to watch, feel and see. I try to fight it, but it only makes me angry.
Turning to dust moves me to reflection. I am profoundly grateful that I can look back and be proud of what I have done in life, that I can be proud of my children and grandchildren, and that I have spent so many happy years with a woman I dearly love. These feelings of gratitude and satisfaction overpower the frustrations of dust. I will have not only left behind dust and rejoin the stars and supernovae, but I will have left behind progeny both physical and spiritual and works of my hands and mind to carry on parts of me into the future. I take great satisfaction in that prospect and my relationships with those people.
Yet my time is not done. When I think of the friends I want to see and things I want to do, it is easy to dust myself off and go out to do new things, happy in the day and what it brings me.
And what of eternity? I modestly leave that to divine providence and do not wish to intrude into a realm I know nothing about. Doug Millar
your usual honest reflections. I resonate. eternity seems available in this 4 minutes of dusting.
Deleteronaldo
Thanks. Doug
DeleteIt's wise person who knows what they know (even if it's slipping) and knows what they don't know (and leaves those things alone)
DeleteVery nice reflection story with a sort of liturgy to it - the confession first and then it develops into an amused benediction and sending by the end ; )
DeleteMust have been all the practice. Thanks for the compliment. Doug
Deletedust particles collect in the corners of my home
ReplyDeletelay along the baseboards
delicately sprinkle themselves on top of the lamps
making my daughter sneeze
we are constantly shedding our earthly bodies while we are living.
skin cells slough off throughout the day
floating into the dust pile of everything else in our house
when I have time, I sweep it up and throw it out into the world
shake off a rug
fluff the swiffer on the back deck
part of me joins with the earth
the rest of me will follow some day
except for the part
that really is
me
that belongs to God
a gentle thought. thanks.
Deleteronaldo
the part that really is me... yes
DeleteThe words echo in my ears and heart with each person….
ReplyDeleteRemember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.
The idea of returning speaks to my spirit in these days. We return to dust. We return to who and what we truly are. This is what forms us, dust, in the shape of a cross, a sacred and holy reminder of the return we make at the end of this life and the One in whose promise we live in this life.
Joel speaks of returning in the reading for Ash Wednesday: Yet even now, says the Lord, return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your clothing. Return to the Lord, your God, who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. (Joel 2:12-13)
At a hard and dusty place in my life I started reading poetry as a part of my daily reflection and prayer. In turn I found that, from time to time, my writing appeared as poetry. This, then, for a dusty day when we are called to return…
Return to me,
to the first things,
to how you loved me,
before you loved other things.
Let the path to me
be lit...not by the
lights of this world,
but by the light of Christ,
whose mark you bear
as you journey,
and even as
you return to me.
~JGH+
The Rev. Julie G. Hutson
Thanks for listening to the poet within...and sharing
DeleteBeautiful!
DeleteQuiet assurance.
DeleteThanks for the deep pondering provoker: "return...to how you loved me before you loved other things... Mmm. Surely we will take with us on our return the love of the "true," the "true" loves of our enfleshed lives. Bringing back contributions to "The Whole." although the dust is scattered throughout the Cosmos.
ReplyDeleteAshes and Dust
ReplyDeleteSnow Dust
like fine diamonds
covered the ground last night
cleaning up the neighborhood
covering up the ruts and dirt
making everything new again
giving the world a fresh start
Ash Dust
mixed with fine oil and frankincense
covered my forehead tonight
in the sign of the Cross
cleaning up my sins
covering up my stubbornness and selfishness
making everything new again
giving me a fresh start
for Lent
comforting...
DeleteInteresting juxtaposition of ashes cleaning away sins. Love it Sara Heck! ; )
DeleteSparkling encouragement.
DeleteMarlene
Creator provides the very elements of grace.
DeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
DeleteAsh Wednesday, Not This Year
ReplyDeleteI don’t know how to do it,
Ash Wednesday,
this year.
I live with the ashes every day.
I live with
the ashes of cancer
in my house.
It touches what we eat
what we do
how we feel
how we talk
what we say
what we plan
what we don’t plan
Ash Wednesday
has always reminded me that we are all mortal
and that each day
is a blessed gift.
This year
my house is stuck in the ashes part.
In the reminder of death part.
Someday,
we will get to the gift part.
Someday, not today
Till then
I don’t know how to do it,
Ash Wednesday.
May the light of God shine through the darkness of the ash, and bring you peace. Very powerful poem.
DeleteAnd may our community cloud of loving dust enfold you.
DeleteMarlene
Attending as life's demands come close. May the dry ashes be moistened a bit by the grace, love and care of your sisters and brothers. No doing now, mostly being.
DeleteTears on my keyboard....
DeleteDoug
DeleteSuch beautiful vulnerability….thank you.
DeleteJulie H.
We Are
ReplyDeleteby Marlene Obie
Dust of crumbled life, together as equal specks,
plants, animals and people,
however low or high in stature,
along with stuff created and abandoned
long ago.
Sundried decay lying in wait,
to be stirred by wind, vehicles or
animal herds on trails, roads,
swept upon journeys to contacts
with lives and objects that one day
will join their state of being.
Meanwhile, transported periodically
to new surroundings into layers
on surfaces alive and in motion
or allowed to repose for short stays,
stretched out stop overs, or
eons, coating, preserving, protecting.
Where will the million molecules of
my dust be borne to and what or whom
will they be. A building, a stream bed,
part of a dune, a wet sand sculpture,
or nourishment and support for seeds
of new life in gardens, forests, meadows,
absorbed into beauty and scent of flowers
and scattered in pollen, transformed into
sweet nectar and honey?
I am dust of the ages, who and what all
I know not
and when I dust the furniture now,
I wonder...
Who is this? Have we
shared time and space
before, since God called us
from cosmic chaos
to dust of life to dust?
Great poem! I love the feel of it, especially the last stanza : )
DeleteHave we shared time and space before ...from cosmic chaos to dust of life to dust?...... Written without fear but with wonder, nicely said. Thank you
DeleteHave we shared time and space before ...from cosmic chaos to dust of life to dust?...... Written without fear but with wonder, nicely said. Thank you
DeleteLife's very essence shared. Creator constantly renewing, restoring. Thanks.
DeleteFrom start to end excellent. I like the thought of who you might be dusting away, or where we might travel. We are all stardust and supernovae remnants, so we are all the Illuminati.
DeleteDoug
My daughters each wrote a poem about dust, after a conversation about the Ash Wednesday service we would attend later:
ReplyDelete8-year-old
Dust
fluffy clouds
white or gray
run around
making everybody
sneeezy
5-year-old
Dust
relaxing
God's hands
Grandpa
I promised that I'd post them : )
So the gift continues. Poems from Spirit's own hand.
DeleteVery nice. Grandpa
Deletenoun \ˈdəst\
ReplyDelete: fine dry powder that builds up inside buildings on surfaces that have not recently been cleaned
Synonyms: garbage, junk, refuse, rubbish, waste
(Source: www.merriam-webster.com)
It's everywhere. In the corners, under the beds, in every room. It's especially visible on our wood floors. Less so on the rugs and carpeting. There, it clings to the fibers, works its way it and settles down. It's harder to see than on the smooth, bright hardwoods. It makes cleaning even more of a chore as vacuuming and sweeping are my least favorites.
But, I start hesitantly and slowly a rhythm begins to build. With the help of Pandora's Motown station in the background, I dust the tables, chairs, and sofas. Next, I begin sweeping from the corners, along the baseboards, and to the middle of the floor. I continue moving from room to room, switching from broom to vacuum. As I near the end, I realize I'm less tired and more gratified at the progress. It looks good and it feels good - a clean house.
-----
I've been in Lent for a long time now: before the season of waiting; before the birth of our savior; before the revelation of our King to visitors from the east; before His transfiguration, before Ash Wednesday.
This arid, desolate, and bleak wilderness with the devil and all his temptations - I know it too well. I've spent lonely, impatient, frustrating months here. I've been confused, angry, and hurt. I've doubted, questioned, and tempted.
But today, there is a promise: From dust you came and to dust you shall return. Before I fully understood it, I heard those words as final and harsh. And, it's true. One day, I literally will be dust.
But today, it is a promise. My God has come to clean house. He will sweep away all the refuse, the rubbish, and the waste that I have tried to vain to remove. The dusty, unclean pieces of my life that have remained through the years, He will return to the place where they belong.
And that place is not in me.
footprints,,. a cross...a heart
DeleteWe have been burned, burned by the fire And we are ashes, ashes and smoke
ReplyDeleteBut we will rise, higher and higher on the wings of compassion, justice and
hope.
That’s one of the songs written by Linda Allen, the founder of our
Threshold choir group, Women With Wings. It’s the song our director P.
offered to me and another member S. when we arrived early at rehearsal last
night with complaints. S. was in a funk, I related age-related
“miseries.” The song was a gift, an acknowledgment that our suffering is
real--however. P grinned and said, “I think we need to go out of the room
and try starting again,” But instead, she began the song. We sang it
together, several times, adding our traditional choreography.
Releasing the detritus of the day’s “burn” into the cosmos, our personal
spirits lifted. We were further blessed with the reminder that pain is not
just to be shed, but provides energy for the practice of compassion,
justice and hope in creation.
Troy Faith Ward, Diaconal Minister
I hate dust! I hate the feel of it - always have. I hate the look of it. I hate to dust my house - worst job ever! It never stops. It builds up when we are not looking. On an archeological dig I dug up centuries of dust including a cemetery. So when the words "you are dust & to dust you shall return" are said, I have a visual image. It makes one realize that life is a short wonderful gift from our creator and then our physical self is dust. I hate dust but I love the Spirit that calls me to move beyond dust. Deb Bengtson-Ahrendt
ReplyDelete