Christine Caine is an Australian activist, evangelist, international speaker, and author. She has written several books, and with her husband, Nick, …

“Sometimes when you are in a dark place, you think you have been buried, but actually you have been planted.” (Christine Caine)

A myriad of experiences leaves us confused, engaged, wanting

Seeking answers, responses, reflections

Is she coming or going

Or possibly just following her star

Her fate

A toe in one water

A hand in another jar

A goodness abounds for she is a giver

But she asks where to give

Who to direct energy towards

She is in search

She bestows a magic upon

Those whom cross her way

Touching evocatively yet ephemerally

Planting a seed

Hoping it grows

Into what she asks

But does she really want to know.

Is the direction important to her

Or is it just the motion

Dervish as it is

To keep a spirit frenetic

Waxing a word poetic

Remaining at times ascetic

She sits in her moment

Aspiring for clarity

For her next third

A good soul

She deserves what she has shared

Humanity, kindness, blessings

Laughter, tears, dreams and fears

And of course, a welcoming love.

Walk with pride even if the direction is cloudy

She will find her place, and her peace.

Heal dear soul

Through moments in time

 

A love lost too soon

Not planned or well primed

 

The pain he endured

Can never be known

 

So reflect on the memories

Three lives deeply sown

 

He may be gone from your sight

The lives now apart

 

His soul will never go

Let it rest in your heart

 

Surely sadness remains

With the shedding of tears

 

But remember the laughter

You shared through the years

 

See him in nature

The winds as they blow

 

Plant a seed, watch a tree

forever as it grows

 

he is with you in spirit

never far from your side

 

every step that you take

he gives strength to your stride

 

Remember his ember

The light of his way

 

His love will be eternal

And shine bright on you each day.

Ten

 years

 ago,

 I thought

 I had

 a

 future looking

 forward

Ten years

 hence,

 I have

 seen

 a

 wasted

 decade

Creativity

 flowed,

 family

 and

 friends

 filled

 the

 room

 and

 filled

 my

 heart,

Just

 ten

 years

 ago.

Really

 don’t know

 what

 happened

Seemed

 to

 have

 fallen

 off

 the

 grid

My

 connectivity

 to

 society

 short-­‐circuited.

Lost

 in

 a

 mesmerizing mettle

 of

 dissolution,

 disgust

 and

 despair

Lost

 the

 fight,

 lost

 the

 direction,

 lost

 the

 mission

And

 what’s worse

 than

 everything,

 is

 that

 I don’t

 know how

 to

 begin

 again

Digging

 deep

 in

 my

 soul,

 I dwell

 on

 demons

 and

 deficiencies,

 desperate

 for

 someone

 or

 something

 to

 

hang

 onto.

My

 leadership

 of

 myself

 has

 given

 way

 to

 a

 no

 confidence

 vote.

In

 my

 head,

 the

 synapses

 still

 fire,

 but

 the

 anguish

 of

 not

 failures,

 but

 rather

 lack

 of

 successes,

 envelope

 

me

 and

 cast

 me

 into

 a

 catatonic

 state,

 immobile

 and

 watching

 the

 world

 go

 by.

 

 Motivation

 is

 lost.

 

 

Embarrassment is

 rampant.

I

 listen

 to

 my

 heartbeat.

 It

 pounds

 at

 time.

 It

 tightens

 up

 at

 moments.

 It

 races.

 

 I

 pray

 at

 times

 it

 just

 

fades

 and

 fades,

 slowly

 and

 quietly,

 and

 then stops.

I

 find

 myself

 removed

 from

 the

 reality

 I watch

 go

 by.

 

 Cathartic,

 I find

 writing

 a

 release,

 an

 ascetic

 poetic.

 

 

This

 life

 I have

 known

 for

 ten

 years

 has

 been

 lonely

 beyond

 reproach,

 beyond

 imagination,

 indelibly

 

etching

 a

 callousness,

 a

 numbing,

 an

 anasthetic

 on

 emotions

 except

 those

 that

 are

 sheer

 negativity.

I

 reflect

 back

 constantly,

 not

 pleased

 with

 what

 I have

 done

 or

 accomplished,

 and

 yet,

 even

 the

 

occasional

 fire

 within,

 it is

 doused

 with

 self-­‐doubt and

 fatigue.

 

 And

 then

 the

 loneliness

 prevails.

 

 When

 

youre

 down,

 it

 is

 nice

 to

 have

 someone

 pick

 you

 up,

 dust

 you

 off,

 and

 pat

 your

 back,

 before

 going

 back

 

in

 the

 ring.

 

 

 When

 you

 are

 lonely, and

 yes,

 depressed,

 you

 find

 there

 is

 no

 one

 to

 support

 the

 downer

 

except

 yourself.

 

 Increasingly

 difficult

 if

 one’s attitude

 grazes

 the

 depths.

So

 how

 do

 you

 break

 out

 of

 maelstrom?

How

 do

 you

 leave

 behind

 the

 darkness?

How

 do

 you

 get

 your

 life

 back

 on

 track?

At

 this

 point

 in

 life,

 though

 one

 can

 ask

 question

 after

 question,

 I receive

 no

 answers,

 prayers

 are

 not

 

responded

 to,

 and

 wishes

 are

 only

 wasted

 energy.

 

 Everything

 in

 life

 is

 a

 defeat,

 and

 that’s as

 I watch

 

others

 continue

 to

 win.

 

 

 Heartbreaking,

 heart

 wrenching,

 exhausting.

 

 

 Just

 no

 fun.

 

 And

 lost.

 

 

I

 wish

 for

 those

 ten

 years

 back

You’ve labeled me a friend

Maybe til the end

 

Our moments are brilliant

Energy a soar

A chat, a glass, a kiss

Never ever to bore

 

Shall remember you always

For the sparkle you shine

Endeared in my heart

And hope in yours a bit of mine

 

Missives and memories

In times so sublime

We listened as we glistened

Such moments of  life’s time.

 

Sweet lady I adore

For your infectious caprice

Mona Lisa has nothing

On you, the true masterpiece

 

The sands fall swift

In our life’s hourglass

Your touch has been such

Any words shant trespass

 

My mind rests in the clouds

So much noise to contend

Yet I reflect and confect

Upon you my dearest friend

We can pose a rather unlettered query, such as what is life? But let’s unpack that a bit. We can assume life goes on forever, and we proceed from baby to child to adult to parent to grandparent. We just assume life will move in that course. How would one’s attitude change if the rules were different, namely if you were given a fixed period of time to live. Say 75 years. Get to the 75 mark and all ends. Would you conduct your life any different than now? Not suggesting a physical malady or disease. Just a mere timeclock. What if you are told your ticket lasts until 55? And say you knew that was the deal when you’re at 53. How would you live your next 2 years? We have this incumbent assumption that life will continue. No estimation of a demise. Just live as it goes. How different one’s views, and I submit, the behaviors would change if the time ahead was knowingly finite not infinite. By rule, by statute, by the law of life, you have five years, or two, or maybe six months. You are born and at say 21, you are provided your “life’s contract”. You will expire at 35. Would your focus or priorities or practices change? Would the people you see be different? Would it be friends or family? And who? Would you have your own family? Would the things you both want to do, as well as accomplish, be different if you knew you had not an eternity to accomplish them. This may be a new psychological and philosophical premise.

One’s attitude in life is determined by one’s perceived demise. Most have the view of forever or at least uncertainty. For those inflicted with stage 4 cancer, given months to live, how do her priorities and life’s attitude change? Do the brain’s synapses fire variantly or adjust? Do our emotions reorient and adapt? Does expectation of demise alter our psyche, what we think about and who, does it change our fundamental chemistry? Does it elongate or compress the periods ahead? If we knew the mortal end was near as opposed to decades off, how do we change, and how might we interact differently. Assume you had a “life contract” of only one year. At that time mortal life is ceased. How would you decide on actions forward? Would it be for you, or them, or we, or they? Whose playbook do you follow? And if time now becomes ever more precious because of a known expiry, might you embark on relationships and experiences to enhance and maximize your remaining time. Would life be bundled with more power and emotion for that time? Would you accomplish more, love more, experience more because you can see the finish line? The psyche would seem to change. And might one not enjoy that tsunami of personal richness during that intensive period, as she concludes there is nothing to lose. So I pose my observation and thesis. Why don’t we live life with such expected passion and fervor anyway, regardless if we are not subject to the finite law of life, a pre-determined life contract. We postpone, we defer, we procrastinate, we put off a call to or a coffee with a friend or loved one til next week or beyond. Shouldn’t we embrace the moment as if it may be one of our last?

A story told about a mind in fold

You’re on the ledge, too near the edge

Clouds and darkness not my friend

Demons speak, it is the end

What say you, keep in the light

Just one more day, that is my right

Do I toss it in, a path to go

Yet a moment present says although

A wink, a chat, a contemporant thought

Preserve the moment, a magnificent lot

Make the demons yield, hold them at bay

Capture a dream that gives you another day

Just one is what you need, adjust your crazed speed

No time to heed, oh how to be freed

Come back to the moment, please no circumscribe

Stay with us, and cheer us, we love you, we are your  tribe

Oh. What bird might I see you to be, my love? A swan for sheer reverence. A dove for your peacefulness. A peacock for the various colors you expose. An owl for your sagacity. Of course a hummingbird for your energy. Maybe a bit of duck for the eclectic sounds when you sleep. Newly a pigeon. But though it be a flower, as you are, a bird of paradise.

The light of the night, the soul of the stroll

The scale of the trail, a knoll of console

 

The time so sublime, new friends til the end

No care in the air, only moments to pen

 

A case to embrace, be it rhyme or a verse

Highlight what you write, a prayer or a curse

 

Your flight to Dolomite, no storm only warm

Remember the ember, a moment to transform

 

Exile any guile, disband all the labels

The elation of constellations, you’re scribing a fable

 

Make a moment to own it, a puzzle with missing piece

Now complete, quite discrete, provokes her release

 

Don’t deny the butterfly, a token of an omen

The touch was just such, a soul no longer broken

 

This dally in the valley, the heather and the feather

Your stand and your hand, are altering the weather

 

A lift of your gift, in this prime of your time

Needs a thanks that is frank, please continue to rhyme

 

So compose with repose, shining grace on your space

Lay missives and memories, forever to encase

 

Bask in your last days, what a wonderous time

A holiday distinct, ne’er forget this summertime

 

CM 0818