Time Passes, Anguish

My mother was a Unity Minister for the last half of her life, a midlife choice that stitched together her early years, when Unity was very young, and her grandmother taught her as best she could, stitched the ministry with a yearning that she had had all her life to that point. She took the byway of drama, almost becoming a movie star according to her but not wanting to sleep around to do it. She told us that Ann Baxter got the nose job and slept around and so had a career but mom didn't so she went to Cal Berkeley instead. She excelled at Cal and was valedictorian of her class, the first man or woman to ever do that in Speech and Drama. She shared the podium with Harry Truman. A few years out from school she returned and got her teaching credentials. She taught high school English for many years. At one point she wrote and self published a novel. Vanity press. Then she became a minister. Her career was up and down, but in the end she had such a high reputation as a teacher of ministers in training and having written and published a Unity classic, The Handbook of Positive Prayer, that she wound up with the Myrtle Fillmore Award for lifetime achievement. That is second best in the year it is awarded, only one a year, I guess.

She told me that she thought that reincarnation is the best possible guess ever made of how to mate perfect justice with perfect mercy. There is clearly not enough time ensouled otherwise. To me this is untouchable. Perhaps reincarnation is not so. If it is not then I have yet another bone to pick with God, another bit of fuel for the fire that strengthens my hold on His heel.

Time Passes

I remember Rome
When it was a cave and twins
And a wolf mother.

I remember the quantum
That jumps beyond light and time.

I remember you,
As you once appeared to me
Within my first heart.

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This next is a prayer that is also a complaint. I am not the only one with these troubles. I know people like me are written into holy books. My faves from the bible, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon, Psalms, Job. I love the type of David, a king who dances naked before the Lord. Truly there is nothing new under the sun.

Anguish

I stumble, wonder
Why in all this world I must,
Why me, Lord, why not
Give me sight enough to see
The truth before I fail, fall.

I love and it hurts
When they say I do not as
If they really knew.