Don.riney
Premium Member
Thought I'd share a piece of prose:
Many many years ago I fell apart, I hadn't paid much attention to how the pieces fit together so I was quite lost and confused looking at the assorted parts of myself.
I found a piece here that... sort of fit with this piece over there. I tried several different types of glue. sometimes Friendship made things stick but I wanted a better way to build. I thought I could find a faster way to raise a fortress. Other times I needed space and time so I built a stoney keep as my retreat. I found that sometimes anger was the only thing that would make a piece fit back in, but the pounding often knocked other pieces back off. Some times grief and longing were the only way I could hold on to a few of those more precious pieces. Passion was hot enough to weld a few joints but it melted off a few pieces here and there as well. Pride was like a hardened frost by which I held some to me not willing to let go.
Eventually I built myself into a tower where I could see who was coming and defend myself at need. I congratulated myself on this great tower and surveyed what I had built.
As I looked around I started to realize not all the pieces around me were even mine.
I was sad to see that some of those that had been broken through my anger or scorched by my passions were not mine at all but rather pieces of others who had chanced to cross my path. I had no right to force them to my design nor to hurt them in my heat. The chill of my pride made those who wished to know me walk away,my grasping hold of things long past made me resent those who had not shared those moments with me. In my dark and very safe keep I was alone.
I had wasted my time and my tools. I had taken from myself everything I had before that broken time of growing up. I had yet a single tool and a simple choice at hand.
I started by choosing to use the tool and recognizing that it was a hammer. The gavel in hand I chose to rework the stone I had wrought in the error of my youth. As I learned to work and build anew. I found I needed other tools.
A rule to measure myself, this was hard to find but in the end I found a Master had one and he lent it to me. With my gavel and rule I set about my house and found that it was not in order.
The Master then showed me how to use a plumb, that I might see what was upright and what was crooked. Many of the pillars of my life had to be addressed, some torn down and built anew. The square he gave me and taught me how to try it every day that My building might be true. Last of all he showed me the level and showed me that from east to west, from birth to death we all must keep upon our plane.
As I tore down what had not been plum or true and tried to start over the master set a trowel with in my hand. He shook his head and kicked over my sorry dry stack cowans work, then showed me how the mortar sealed the wall and set the bond.
He set the compasses in the sand and circumscribed a point. He showed me how I learned to live. He showed me how to prove the square. He showed me all the arc of time where I should rise and I should fail.
The Master will teach when we are ready to learn. he will give us the tools to build a house that is a welcome home and not a defensive tower. The Master teaches us our limits and how to draw that line around ourselves that for faith
we will not cross.
Many many years ago I fell apart, I hadn't paid much attention to how the pieces fit together so I was quite lost and confused looking at the assorted parts of myself.
I found a piece here that... sort of fit with this piece over there. I tried several different types of glue. sometimes Friendship made things stick but I wanted a better way to build. I thought I could find a faster way to raise a fortress. Other times I needed space and time so I built a stoney keep as my retreat. I found that sometimes anger was the only thing that would make a piece fit back in, but the pounding often knocked other pieces back off. Some times grief and longing were the only way I could hold on to a few of those more precious pieces. Passion was hot enough to weld a few joints but it melted off a few pieces here and there as well. Pride was like a hardened frost by which I held some to me not willing to let go.
Eventually I built myself into a tower where I could see who was coming and defend myself at need. I congratulated myself on this great tower and surveyed what I had built.
As I looked around I started to realize not all the pieces around me were even mine.
I was sad to see that some of those that had been broken through my anger or scorched by my passions were not mine at all but rather pieces of others who had chanced to cross my path. I had no right to force them to my design nor to hurt them in my heat. The chill of my pride made those who wished to know me walk away,my grasping hold of things long past made me resent those who had not shared those moments with me. In my dark and very safe keep I was alone.
I had wasted my time and my tools. I had taken from myself everything I had before that broken time of growing up. I had yet a single tool and a simple choice at hand.
I started by choosing to use the tool and recognizing that it was a hammer. The gavel in hand I chose to rework the stone I had wrought in the error of my youth. As I learned to work and build anew. I found I needed other tools.
A rule to measure myself, this was hard to find but in the end I found a Master had one and he lent it to me. With my gavel and rule I set about my house and found that it was not in order.
The Master then showed me how to use a plumb, that I might see what was upright and what was crooked. Many of the pillars of my life had to be addressed, some torn down and built anew. The square he gave me and taught me how to try it every day that My building might be true. Last of all he showed me the level and showed me that from east to west, from birth to death we all must keep upon our plane.
As I tore down what had not been plum or true and tried to start over the master set a trowel with in my hand. He shook his head and kicked over my sorry dry stack cowans work, then showed me how the mortar sealed the wall and set the bond.
He set the compasses in the sand and circumscribed a point. He showed me how I learned to live. He showed me how to prove the square. He showed me all the arc of time where I should rise and I should fail.
The Master will teach when we are ready to learn. he will give us the tools to build a house that is a welcome home and not a defensive tower. The Master teaches us our limits and how to draw that line around ourselves that for faith
we will not cross.
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