Conversing with Conversations, pt. 7 (August)

As of this post, we’re caught up with my contributions to Conversations Journal blog. I’ll be more vigilant in making them available once they’re actually published. Thanks so much for your support of my blog and, through this, Conversations Journal. They do good work and I’m so proud to share in a tiny part of that.

Here’s my August piece.

Shalom, R

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An ironic request…

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So, here’s the thing. I write a lot of stuff about a lot of stuff. Spiritual stuff mostly. Stuff that relates to the life of faith and the common spiritual life to which Christ calls us and into which he seeks to mold us. Blogs are vastly insufficient platforms in which to discuss such matters. But, they’re a start. Patheos, a totally cool place seeking to head such discussions has begun an online initiative to help people find “top Christian blogs.”

Because being one of no reputation is what the Christian spiritual life is about, I’m asking, ironically, for you to consider voting for me on their site. If you do, your skin will glisten like Edward’s in Twilight, your teeth will outshine Joel Osteen’s, your abs will suddenly line up in 2 rows of 3 each, and your derriere will dance like two eggs in a hanky. Thanks for your ongoing support of my blog and…for voting, which can be done right here.

; ^  )

Humbly yours (no, really), R

Conversing Through Conversations, pt. 6

Monasticism and, now, “New Monasticism” is a fascinating discussion under any circumstances. The blog at Conversations Journal sinks the communal pen into it for our July topic. Here’s my take on it.

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Conversing Through Conversations, pt. 5

A particularly poignant topic was given us for June: the Kingdom of God. Since it is such a trite and tiny topic ; ^ )  I thought I’d include my June post here, despite the fact that anything I could write on such a thing makes me quake in my shoes!

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Serial storm, these wayward winds

This is my first poem in a while. I’ve been concentrating on writing other things. However, once a poet always a poet. It was time.

storm is brewing

 

 

 

 

 

 

Robert Alan Rife, August 21, 2013

 

Serial storm, these wayward winds,

perilous dives to depths unknown.

Beggar’d skies betokening calm

but not till shore is abandoned.

 

Cauldron of unforgiving deep,

belches up a moaning sky, deaf

to cries of drowning sinners, dark,

unstarr’d the evening’s damp despair.

 

Burrow down with hands, grace-giving;

pluck this heartless heart, unflinching.

Sear with love my love, unloving.

Change with yours, my life, unliving.

 

Settled, now, this pilgrim, wand’ring,

still before an endless highway.

Footsteps fall beside, behind me,

always leading, never pushing.

 

In this open field of journey,

we must, naked, find our freedom.

Drawn are we like thirsty beggars

to this cup, the drink of heaven.

 

Sometimes late we find our purpose,

see ever dimly God’s design.

But for mercy we might never

know the breadth of this, our comfort.

 

Picture: www.livingwithlibby.com

 

Conversing Through Conversations, pt. 4

Slowly getting you caught up on these posts I share on Conversations Journal. Here is April’s post. Blessings and peace…R

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Conversing Through Conversations, part 3

Here is my Conversations Journal post for March of this year. In it I touch on a favorite discussion: the spirituality of home. I’d love to hear some of your own thoughts and yearnings on this most powerful of topics.

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Conversing Through Conversations, part 2

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I continue the process of sharing with you delightful friends some of the work I’ve been doing at Conversations Journal. What follows, albeit a little chronologically disjointed, is my February Conversations Journal post. You can read it here.

Conversing Through Conversations

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As any writer will tell you, “write, eat, sleep, write, rinse, repeat.” I am as much scripturiant* as I am anything else. Writing has become for me, prayer. Through it I expose my thoughts, first to myself, then to a watching (and sometimes unsuspecting) world. I like to think of myself as a diamond in the rough. Who wouldn’t given the many not so glamorous alternatives? Hence, my writing has a kind of…edge to it. Informative? Yes, I suppose. Transformative? Certainly for me. Honest? As much as possible. What that means is that one will find me easily enough hiding among my words,. But it’s what I don’t say and how I don’t say it that will, more often than not, give me up to those wiser than I who see through my cynical facade.

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One of the ways I’ve been invited to live with a life-with-my-pants-down honesty is through a blog for which I’ve been contributing the past few months: Conversations. It has been refreshing to participate with some very fine people in plumbing the depths of the Christian spiritual enterprise together. This has been an honor and privilege for a guy like me – frequently disarming, leaning a little Southpark in my philosophical pathos and MLK in my political one, but polite when I need to be. Senior editor, writer, spiritual director and friend (well, so far at least!), Tara Owens, has taken a real chance on me. For this I could not be more humbled and happy.

For you followers of my blog(s), I am so deeply grateful and want to share with you the pieces I’ve proudly contributed to this fine blog and invite you to join me there even as you’ve done so faithfully here. Thus begins a journey of Conversing Through Conversations…part 1.

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Hopefully, you’ll like my pieces enough to check out others and perhaps…subscribe?

 

*Scripturiant: (those possessing a compulsion to write)

Crazy Writer pic: www.bookpregnant.blogspot.com

 

 

Enter now this moon

moon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Enter now this moon,

parading past the shades

wearing only dusky intentions.

Her cloudy slip billows past her knees

and brazenly reveals her starlit muse –

gift for these words.

*

One-eyed heavenly wink,

a gesture of good-will,

brightness of day gone by,

she bares her breast

to let the night suckle its way

once more to day.

*

Her pale, pocked face has no rivals

but spills herself out as offering:

love that looks for mood,

art that looks for food,

bedsheets that turn to brood,

all for the gift of a song.

Picture: www.layoutsparks.com