It is a sense of our own righteousness that is the most dangerous and destructive attribute to ourselves and the people around us.

This is because feeling righteous leads us to feel deserving in some way. It is out of righteousness that we often demand tribute or actions from others. A sense of our own righteousness leads to a place of expectation and superiority…we expect that the world too, would recognize our righteousness and act accordingly. When it does not we become angry and begin demanding it in our various ways…and when this fails we become hateful.

To be righteous means to be right with God. One cannot be partly righteous; righteous on a  particular issue or a particular stance. This is why righteousness eludes us.

“There is no one righteous, not even one;” – Romans 3:10

This is why righteousness is given to us as a cover and as shelter but it is not our own.

“God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” – 2 Corinthians 5:21

When we recognize that this righteousness we feel is not our own then our response is (or should be) tempered. If it is not our righteousness it is not our place to defend it or to measure others by it or to have expectation of others as a result.

Rather the response to being covered by another’s righteousness is to be grateful and to take this gratitude and share with those around us.

there is the sound of tire echoes
the onward roll of rubber overhead
carrying the living away from here
while we free-float submersed
in the dark and brown-green water
beneath the Speed River bridge
a hallowed hyperbaric chamber
easing the return to life once more

i woke in the ever-dark night
to the flickering of one lit candle
bouncing shadows ‘cross my wall
this once a cold and empty wick
now alive and spitting light like affirmation
that all the black extinguished things
will live again in protest of an end

So it’s been a tough path for quite some time now.

Lots of stumbles along the way, falls of course and the odd storm that comes out of nowhere and pours torrents down making everything slippery and treacherous.

There is a temptation to look at specific incidents and circumstances and allow them to define my entire experience. The slip into the gully becomes life in the valley; the momentary shower seems an eternal storm; the odd rock thrown becomes a Biblical hailstorm bent on my destruction.

Still one plods on because there is a destination in mind and, of course, through it all there are small hints, like shafts of light through clouds, that one is getting nearer to that place.

It occurs to me that I have not been walking into a valley, or even on level ground for that matter. I have, in fact, been treading upward toward peaks above the clouds. I have seen evidence of it.

When climbing it is not uncommon to come to small valleys along the way. It is not uncommon to fall or to enter a cloud bank at a certain level where you lose all sight of what is before you or behind you. It is not uncommon for the rain and periodic darkness to settle in.

But those small shafts of light and the destination make it all worth while. I was reminded recently by my sister of the shafts of light that have been penetrating the clouds (she is one of them):

My family – my children, sisters, brothers, mother, aunts and uncles all there for me

My friends – I have never been one to have many friends. I have a very few, very deep friendships and many acquaintances. Any one of these friends is worth everything.

I am loved – What else needs to be said. Starting to sound a little Stuart Smalley but that is fine. I am loved and loved deeply. This is profound – I have found the pearl of great price.

I have a great job – Seriously. It gets better every day and I work with awesome people. They are investing in my education and the opportunities continue to grow with every passing day.

I own a home – I am blessed to own a home.

I own a car – It’s a 20 year old Oldsmobile but it is fantastic nonetheless.

The bills will get smaller – While finances have been brutal for years a friend pointed out a simple truth to me – it will get better.

I guess what I am saying is I have come to a place on the climb where I have, with the help of others, been able to stop and find a lookout point…and the view is spectacular. I have seen where I have been, how far I have come and where I am going. Incredible.

Who could be more blessed really?

I was walking when I found
someone’s discarded fortune
small white strip of forlorn future
stark against a cold concrete
I thought –

“How bad could it be?”

I took it to myself
and it told me to write
send letters to ones distant;
so I wrote this poem to me
cuz we haven’t spoken
for a long and lonesome while
which got me wondering –
how I was doing

I dragged Him inside
and put an iPod in Her hand
covered Him in Versace
and red lipstick for Her looks
put an unknown book in His hand
and kissed Her deep in public places
I made Him look like me
but She was disposable for convenience
He was not the God I needed
but She became the God I wanted
like the other 7 billion and counting

this cup is empty
stained from the using years
filled with hot
filled with cold
filled with Luke-warm
un-filled now
mere potential to the rim
cheers…

they said –
old is not what you grow
no no no
there are no seeds sown
that bring forth numb thought
no fertilizer
(except the bullshit of years)
to hasten that sickle
just a looking back
that causes an accidental fall
into a six foot deep

so let’s stroll
in borrowed skins
take to the streets
to blind the eyes
of those stalking
of those walking
we’ll steal smiles
leaving frozen faces
in our frozen wake
beneath an undone sun