Like a dark sphere moving out from me,
collective, individual, hell
these days,
we all suffer together.

But at a sudden moment, I could almost visualize
From the edge of my sphere, my grief
My longing
I felt the raw edge of something
Even deeper.

And the depth, oh my the depth.

I’ve never been the same

Year in Review

I wanted to keep up my Chaplaincy series, I really did. Just like I wanted to keep up last new year’s resolution to post at least one blog a day for the rest of the year. I made a really good run with that one, so I’m not sad at all that it went by the wayside. I’m also not upset that I stopped the Chaplaincy series on like, day six. Not much endurance there, but I got several gems of revelation that will probably take me months, if not years, to tease apart. The thing is, both of these projects are merely part of my larger narrative for 2013 – a blockbuster year for me in terms of my writing. I took poems that were ten, ten, years old and, with the help of my band, turned them into songs. My dad took an essay I wrote my freshman year of college and gave it to the wife of the person who inspired the work. A person who is now dead. My dad said it was very meaningful for her, and I’m once again blessed by this man’s impact on my life. I am also one of the authors on a new publication in ATVB from research we did in Pittsburg several years ago. So, wow, I’m not at all sorry for my unfinished art of 2013 because someday I just might complete it. At least the seeds of possibility have been planted here in this little ol’ blog o’ mine.

Anyways, Happy New Year, fellow Earthicans!



Our most primordial experiences:
birth, sex, death,
eating, drinking


Rise up
To art, literature, science,

One speaks to the other
a dance
transcendent (r)evolution



Day 6

I’m alone. I am the only chaplain at the hospital. The other chaplain, one of my mentors, and the Priest stop by early, 7:30ish, to make sure I have the print-out of the daily census for the hospital. It’s on the shared server that I have yet to access, so they stop in on their way to the mandatory Spiritual Retreat that all the real chaplains in the hospital system need to attend.

I say, “You two kids go have fun.” (Their both older, especially the Priest.) They smile warmly, and I feel confident as I place my imaginary chaplain hat on. Previously, I was in training. But this time, I’m the only chaplain here. I am the chaplain.

And that’s when I really feel it – what is called Incarnational Theology. It’s distinctly Christian in that it deals with the theology that arises (one of many, mind you) from the Gospel story of Jesus Christ. Many Christians believe Jesus Christ himself was God. Many others posit that Jesus Christ was the Son of God. I’m not entirely sure what either mean, especially the latter whose language arose to describe Emperors in ancient Greek culture.

I consider myself a Christian, and deeply ponder who and what Jesus Christ means to me. I don’t feel I have a sufficient answer for myself yet, but I truly believe that seeking is not a sign of lack of faith, but of deep faith. I hold the questions carefully in my heart because I understand that they have eternal significance (whatever THAT even means!). But I feel it, with every fiber of my being, even if I don’t quite understand it.

So, when I put on my imaginary chaplain hat, I know in some way, some beautiful, mysterious way, that what I am to the people I visit is the incarnation of a God that:

cares deeply about them
listens to their pain
is with them in the deepest sense of the word

Because I am the only one here, I really try to fully embrace this – I attempt to set all my feelings of inadequacy aside, all the other “stuff” that clogs my brain surrounding my life.

And I visit patients, family, staff. From the depths of my being, I try to embody love in the best way I know how. I know, with that great knowing, that I am always inadequate, yet God uses such an open, seeking heart to minister. Where I fall short, the grace of God steps in.

Day 4

It’s like a middle school dance
That awkwardness
How I want to be there, yes, definitely
But I just don’t know how
What to do
How to hold my hands,

I don’t know what to do when I go see
Someone who has 3 months to live
But the doctor hasn’t told him yet
The weight of that knowledge on my heart
The unfairness that I know
And he doesn’t
So, I stand

I stand and I try to remember
My presence is enough

So I smile, say hi,
My name’s Meggie
I’m the chaplain