No Upholstered Ruts

When I read this poem, I think about all the lovely upholstered ruts in my life. Damn, they're comfortable.

One of the great graces, and the great sufferings, of big life transitions is how they rip us right out of those ruts. Done.

Easter Exultet

 

Shake out your qualms.
Shake up your dreams.
Deepen your roots.
Extend your branches.
Trust deep water
and head for the open,
even if your vision
shipwrecks you.
Quit your addiction
to sneer and complain.
Open a lookout.
Dance on a brink.
Run with your wildfire.
You are closer to glory
leaping an abyss
than upholstering a rut.
Not dawdling.
Not doubting.
Intrepid all the way
Walk toward clarity.
At every crossroad
Be prepared
to bump into wonder.
Only love prevails.
En route to disaster
insist on canticles.
Lift your ineffable
out of the mundane.
Nothing perishes;
nothing survives;
everything transforms!
Honeymoon with Big Joy!

 

~ James Broughton ~

 

(Sermons of the Big Joy)