Three Poems You Will Probably Like if You Liked My Jesus Poem

School doesn’t start here until after Labor Day, so summer vacay is still in full swing.

In an effort to abandon my typical post as the summer mom grinch, I’m giving myself the summer off writing.

I plan on returning to publishing a new piece of writing every Sunday morning come September. I’ve already got a piece on the Barbie movie brewing (I mean are you even a writer in 2023 if you don’t write about your reaction to the Barbie movie?). And I’m itching to write about my experience meeting my favorite podcasting poet Padraig O’Tooma.

But for now, there are quite a few new faces around this Substack (Hi! so glad you are here!). Many of you subscribed because you enjoyed my “Why I Don’t Talk About Jesus Much Anymore” poem I shared on Mormon Stories.

So I’m peeking out of my summer hidey-hole to offer up a few more poems I’ve written that I think you may also enjoy reading.

The first is one I almost asked to read aloud in my Mormon Stories interview when John asked what some long-term effects of my mission are. I answer that question perfectly in this poem called “Reason for Worry.” I wrote this after talking to a friend who was worried to send her son on a mission. I’m talking hypothetically about her son, but really I’m talking about what happened to me.

The second poem is a blessing I offer to those who are transitioning their faith. Sending kisses and butterflies.

And the third is a sort of mystical look into the idea of nothing over something. Sure to satisfy the nihilists among us (it’s me, hi, I’m the nihilist it’s me).

Enjoy!

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Reason for Worry

I keep thinking of my friend
worried for her son to serve a mission
because of the newness, the companions, the culture shock, the living on his own. 

I can't stop thinking
that her worry might be misplaced.

I want to say:
Worrying is a surefire way to misery,
I don't recommend it.

But if you must......
it shouldn't be for the newness.

It would be better placed
on the tendency of missionaries to turn humans into little tally marks,
to turn people into a means to accomplish their goals,
to place their self-worth at the feet of these tally marks... er I mean people.

This tendency just might pop up later in life-
in turning people into dollar signs in his future business
or into follower counts on social media
into a means to accomplish his life goals.

The newness will pass,
but turning people into objects of self-validation?
That just might last.

I want to say:
Worrying is for the birds-
Don't do it.

But if you do....
It shouldn't be for the tricky companions.
It should be for the crippling guilt he will feel each time he breaks a rule.

It should be for the illusion that complete control, perfection and obedience is possible.
And not just possible, but necessary.
Necessary for success,
necessary for salvation,
and worst of all,
necessary for worth.

That because of his superior truth
he will have a moral obligation to teach.
And not just to teach, but to correct.
This pull to correct will disconnect him from those he could grow with instead.

This disconnection just might pop up later in life.
The moral obligation to censure when he meets someone who doesn't share his ideas
in his marriage, in his parenting, at church, at work.
Where there could be deep connection among equals,
there will be a hierarchy of teacher and student- 
of the correct and the incorrect.

The culture shock will pass,
but the unconscious supremacy over people who don't share his world views, beliefs or opinions?
That just may linger.

I want to say:
Worrying is an unhealthy habit-
Avoid it.

But if you can't.....
It shouldn't be because he is living on his own.
It should be because he will be taught not to trust himself.
He will be taught to put all of his trust in the hands of leaders
who are deeply human.
He will be taught that the rules will never lead him astray
and that if he ever has a bad experience with following the rules-
the fault always lies with him and never with the rules themselves.
He will be taught that he can trust his leaders 100%.
And if they do ever say something that goes against his conscience,
he still must trust them over his inner voice.

This looking outside himself for answers just might pop up later in life.
He may doubt his ability to make both big and small decisions.
He may need constant external permission and validation
when he wants to follow his own desires.

The adjustment to living on his own will pass,
but the lack of self trust?
That just might hang around.

Those are the things I want to say.

But instead I find myself smiling and saying,
"Don't worry. He'll be fine.
He'll be fine."

---

For Those Transitioning Their Faith

I bless you
with the stubborn conviction
that you are not doing this wrong
For there is no right way to do this.

There is only your way-
Only what resonates with you
  and what doesn’t
Only what works for you
  and what doesn’t
Only what feels true to you.

May you see your own integrity
and look at it the way a parent
looks at their toddler in their first ballet recital.

And when a tidal wave
of rage, bitterness, fury, grief, or betrayal
towers over you
and you're tempted to run or numb,
May you close your eyes,
throw open your arms
and welcome all of it to wash over you
with radical acceptance.

May you greet waves of joy, pleasure, self-love and freedom
with equal acceptance when they come
(and they will come).

When someone orders you to do something 
your conscience says 'no' to?
May you throw a tantrum with the fury
of a two-year old who doesn't want
to put on their shoes. 

When you crave yoga,
do yoga.
When you desire meditation,
meditate.
And when you need a tennis racket, a pillow and a few choice expletives?
May you explite.

And when someone who is disappointed in your chosen path
hands you an icy ball of shame to hold?
May you not even flinch.
May you let that shame ball slide off your lap
without so much as glancing at it.

May the warm glow of
self assurance and compassion
melt the frost into a puddle at your feet,
may it evaporate entirely from the knowledge
burning deep in your toes
that you have nothing to be ashamed of.

When the branches of who you once were
lose their leaves
and you want to hide.
I bless you with the courage
to expose your naked branches to the world without apology.

May you find refuge in the company 
of those who understand, accept and validate.

May you know you are good.
May you greet your own goodness each day
like a child greets their dog after vacation-
may you scratch its ears
and let your innate, unearned wholeness
caress your scarred hands in warm spittle.

I bless you with
the ability to look back at your past
and forgive yourself of all that seeks forgiveness
with the tenderness
of a thousand Oprahs.

May you rest
and surrender into the knowing
that you are worthy of rest.

May you find that mute button
within yourself
that switches off the voices and opinions
of friends, parents, Facebook, societal expectations, bishops and partners.

May you discover your own voice in the remaining silence
and offer it a red throne of silk
to rule and reign
over your inner house
forever
amen.

---

The Search For Nothing

In 1952 at the Maverick Concert Hall in New York
renowned pianist David Tudor
sat down to play his concert.

Part way through a song
he stopped playing.
He shut the lid encasing the keys.

For four minutes and 33 seconds
he and the audience
listened to........
nothing.

Then he resumed playing the song.

This was no accident,
no break between pieces.

Instead of differentiating between silence and art,
Tudor made the definition of art wider
to include
the wind,
the raindrops,
the chatter and whispers.

He didn't call the ambient noise nothing.
He called it music.

Attendees later reported discovering music in the 
nothing-est of places.

Did you know
that in space there is more nothingness
than somethingness?
More empty space than asteroids, planets, stars or dust?

Did you know there is more space between
our atoms than atoms?
That within the atom there is more empty space
than protons and electrons?

In our bodies, countries, world, universe-
mostly there is nothing.

But what if, like Tudor instead of calling it nothing,
we called it music?

What if the nothing is this God we've been searching for?
The everything we've attempted to squeeze into one male being?
What if we embraced the nothing?

What if its the space between thats the juiciest?
Air, energy, spaciousness, silence, nothing.

What if what made relationships magic isn't two individuals 
but what they do with the invisible space between them?

What if mostly there was nothing?
Nothing to do
nothing to say
nothing to need
nothing to be
nothing to prove
nothing to improve
nothing to find
nothing to become

Rumi says
"Try and be a sheet of paper with nothing on it."

I've spent many years filling my paper with somethings-
something to do
something to say
something to need
something to be
something to prove
something to improve
something to find
something to become.

I wonder what would happen if I recycled my paper full of somethings
and started over blank

just me and the nothing.

I wonder if in the absence of something,
I would hear music.

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