The Unclad Soul

I don’t know if there is a heaven or  if there is a hell; but I know where paradise is.  Out in the country where the cattle graze, where the dogs play,  where the trees hang low  and the pace is slow.  Out along the old dirt roads where the fields are plowed and the wheat is sowed; and up on the hills, where the big bucks hide, and down below where the field mice crawl and the chicken hawks fly.  Paradise is where the fire pit burns and the beers are consumed,  where the laughs are shared and the city’s lampooned.  It’s cold nights in the warm house where the TV lights the dark, and the recliner welcomes with a comfortable embrace and the journey of sleep starts.  It’s morning dew  when the air is clean and the grass shimmers in the sun. It’s daily chores and work well done; it’s the flutter of birds over the trees, down in the low spots where the creeks run. It’s the end of d...

Rumi, the gifted Persian mystic, wrote, “There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.” That voice is heard when we make love; whenever we love others; when we are kind to people. It is the voice that confirms the authenticity of our relationships. The voice that doesn’t use words, stirs within us when we struggle to make the right choices. It reminds us of what is good. It warns us of what will harm us or others. That voice carries, wordlessly, messages in our spirit, in the soul, that urge us to be a better human than we are, to refuse to give in to primitive instincts, haughtiness and meanness, and instead live an exceptional life. It is the voice of maturity, of personal growth, of emotional depth and discipline. The voice that does not use words is heard in quiet moments, in times of solitude, when the mind is clear, and the heart is receptive. It is also heard in the face of fear when we hesitate and shy away from what may cost us something but what we kno...

“When I find myself in times of trouble, Mother Mary comes to me / Speaking words of wisdom, let it be / And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me / Speaking words of wisdom, let it be… And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree / There will be an answer, let it be / For though they may be parted, there is still a chance that they will see / There will be an answer, let it be… And when the night is cloudy there is still a light that shines on me / Shine until tomorrow, let it be / I wake up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me / Speaking words of wisdom, let it be / Let it be, let it be, let it be, yeah, let it be / There will be an answer, let it be…” That is a song written by Paul McCartney after the death of his mother, Mary. She had come to him in a dream at a difficult time in his life and told him to let it be, that things would be okay Let it be. For the longest time, I thought that was all the song was about, ...

The poet, Tyler Kent White has written, “I promise if you keep searching for everything beautiful in this world You will eventually become it.” It is a promise I cling to. When I lived in Hamilton, Texas, a small town in the central part of the state, I often took to the countryside. When small-town life got to me—yes, there are political divides and social conflicts and elitism there, too--; when the strain of ministry seemed overwhelming to me because of unexpected deaths and divorces and fixed old beliefs and my own inner questions; I would hit the walking trail East of town. Or, I would drive through groves of trees along dirt roads out North across rickety bridges and the sight of grazing cattle on the other side. I would bird hunt with friends and fish in the tanks on their property. I never killed anything I didn’t eat. But it wasn’t the hunting and the fishing that refreshed me, though I did enjoy it. It was simply being in the country, in natu...

Beyond the expanding urban cities, and past the secluded rural towns, awaits the wilderness. That is where I want to go; what naturalist and environmental philosopher John Muir called, “the great fresh, unblighted, unredeemed” places. They are Thoreau’s, Walden Pond. They are conservationist Ansel Adams,’ Kings Canyon where the giant General Grant tree grows, or the Sierra Nevada, where groves of the massive sequoia rise into the sky, the tallest trees in the world. Those great places also exist in poet Mary Oliver’s nature settings, who said of flowers, “There is nothing in the world that can be said against them.” Wouldn’t it be nice for a change, to be there? A place where nothing could be said against anyone. I want to follow an overgrown trail that leads into a deep green forest and hear and feel the sounds of the earth. I’m looking for wildness, for untouched beauty, for scenes of nature’s glory abandoned and left alone in the quiet. I seek the mountain, the riv...

Poet Andres Fernandez has written, “Do not just slay your demons, dissect them, and find what they have been feeding on.” This is the work of therapy. Although you could attempt it on your own as well. The best therapists are insightful listeners. They help us talk about what is bothering us, what may be haunting or disturbing or frightening us that we have been unable to either admit or face. Within the protection of the therapist’s office, we are able to confidently say what we might not otherwise be able to say to anyone else. There is enormous freedom in that if we are indeed able to experience it, to open up and say what we feel. “I hate my parents but I pretend I love them.” “I’m having an affair.” “I drink too much.” “I am terrified that someone at work will see how incompetent I really am.” “I can’t stand my husband/wife.” “My kids have completely disappointed me.” “I was sexually abused as a child.” “I am afraid I will be abandoned by those who love me.” T...

There is a brokenness in our society, a pervasive moral collapse, a reckless disregard for community, neighborliness, courtesy, and compassion. Our government leads by this example. Both parties are incompetent to guide us into a more responsible living, into a serviceable structure of humanity. Our leaders are dominated by greedy oligarchs who don’t just want more, they want everything, even if it costs our society its dignity, its soul, even its future. What is on display here daily is a wretched lack of self-esteem. The loss now influences all of us. We’re all affected in ways that keep us shamed by our actions. When we feel powerless, aimless, without any higher goals than the accumulation of things and the momentary thrill, we then mute our intelligence. We live by raw emotions—anger, appetite, urges. We don’t think, we don’t consider, we merely react. We push. We disregard. We threaten. We act out. And we fail. Self-esteem is a learned process. It builds on gen...

I saw a child in a grocery basket Singing in the produce section And I smiled at the cheerfulness Of children. I saw a white crane perched on a dead tree At peace in a pond at the golf course And I wanted to stand with it In the sunshine. I saw an old man with a cane Hunched over and walking wearily And I thought how nice if I could Carry him to his destination. I saw a woman sitting at the bus stop In the cold, her face covered with a scarf And I thought how selfish when I complain My car heater takes so long to get warm. I saw a couple kissing in the parking lot With shopping bags resting beside them And I reveled in how love often ignores Its surroundings and blooms fearlessly. I saw teens volunteering at an SPCA stand Outside the mall, warmly holding and petting Dogs and cats and chatting with customers And I thought we don’t give teens enough credit. I saw the sun setting gloriously as I left work The colors stunning a...

Stephen Paddock, the mass murderer in Las Vegas, continues to puzzle law enforcement and investigators. He will most likely never be understood. As I mentioned in my last essay and blog post, I think we have to seriously rethink our humanity, and consider how vulnerable we all are both personally and as a society, to the deadly effects of mental illness. This is not something new, and it is not something that will go away. I have no confidence in our political system to do anything useful regarding gun legislation. Congress will talk about it, offer their empty prayers to victims, and say perhaps the gun issue needs to be looked at. But the NRA has a death grip on Congress and state legislators across the nation. The NRA controls gun manufacturing, gun sales, and the gun lobby. Nothing will change there. Money, and lots of it, fuels our political system. Not the safety of the nation. Not the value of our children. Not the security of special events outdoors or indoors. The...

Science fiction novelist Isaac Asimov once wrote, “Your assumptions are your windows on the world. Scrub them off every once in a while, or the light won’t come in.”   It’s a valid appeal. I grew up assuming a lot of things that turned out to be wrong. For years, I failed to scrub those assumptions so I could see more light. Born into a conservative Christian home where church was everything, I was taught a simplistic viewpoint of the world. People were sinners but they could be saved from their sins if they accepted Jesus Christ as their Savior. All it took was a simple prayer of faith and miraculously Jesus would come into your heart and you would be a new person. No one told me that even if you did this you would still have to work at being good. I assumed, believing what I was taught, that you just automatically started doing the right things, since Jesus was in you and he was basically running the show. Somehow, though, I kept bumping into myself. The fait...

“It's all a matter of paying attention. The magic in this world seems to work in whispers and small kindnesses.” ~ Charles de Lint, Canadian Writer

Ingrid, who will be 15 next month (unbelievably), is at dance camp this week. This one is two hours away in a university setting. This is her first time to be away by herself from her family and from me. We went shopping the other day for some outfits for her. Each day of camp has a theme and the girls were encouraged to wear things that fit with those themes as they work on their routines. So she picked out some things. Ingrid rarely likes what I like for her. Maybe it’s a girl thing, or just being a teen. I’d pull something off the rack and say, “What about this, sweetie?” She’d hold it up in front of her and say, “I’m not feeling it.” And hand it back to me. That happens a lot, actually. But, I don’t mind. She has good taste and besides, I love her independence, the fact that she knows what she likes and it doesn’t have to be what I like. She found things that fit her feelings, that express who she is, things that out in the middle of the dance workouts, will feel g...

“Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness, you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho lies dead by the side of the road. You must see how this could be you, how he too was someone who journeyed through the night with plans and the simple breath that kept him alive. Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside, you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing. You must wake up with sorrow. You must speak to it till your voice catches the thread of all sorrows and you see the size of the cloth. Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore, only kindness that ties your shoes and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread, only kindness that raises its head from the crowd of the world to say It is I you have been looking for, and then goes with you everywhere like a shadow or a friend.” ~ Naomi Shihab Nye, Poet/Author

There are secrets that are frozen In the deepest places of our soul. They cannot be unearthed, Yet they cannot be unknown. We have dreams that are lost In the recesses of our sleep. We have longings too deep to reach Across anxieties we cannot breach. There are spaces for love We hold for future opportunities. They are kept in the privacy Of our simple soulful duties. We have a heavy broken burden That we carry through the years. It’s a wistful painful memory Of our losses soaked in tears. There are questions we still can’t answer, Things we wearily want to know. But life is not an easy equation One can quickly solve and own. There are journeys alone to take And experiences with others to share. There are changes we have to make And realities we have to bear. And finally accept the mystery of things We cannot ever know. And find the hard fought truce within That if we honor lets us grow. © 2017 Timothy Moody

“Laughter’s the nearest we ever get, or should get, to sainthood. It’s the state of grace that saves most of us from contempt.” ~ John Osborne, Playwright

"You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom: absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken."  ~ Anaïs Nin, Author and memoirist born to Cuban parents in France

“If you can risk getting lost somewhere along the day you might stumble upon openings that link you to your depths.” ~ The Ancient Mystics

“We need to walk to know sacred places, those around us and those within. We need to walk to remember the songs.” ~ Joseph Bruchac,  Poet/Novelist

“It is impossible to escape the impression that people commonly use false standards of measurement: that they seek power, success and wealth for themselves and admire them in others, and that they underestimate what is of true value in life.”  ~ Sigmund Freud

“The truly educated become conscious. They become self-aware. They do not lie to themselves. Thought is a dialogue with one’s inner self. Those who think ask questions, questions those in authority do not want asked. They remember who we are, where we come from and where we should go. They remain eternally skeptical and distrustful of power. And they know that this moral independence is the only protection from the radical evil that results from collective unconsciousness. The capacity to think is the only bulwark against any centralized authority that seeks to impose mindless obedience. There is a huge difference, as  Socrates  understood, between teaching people what to think and teaching them how to think.”  ~ Chris Hedges, Author/Journalist