Seedtime

Photo by Joe Grant © 2021

This truth I tell,
unless a wheat grain falls into earth and dies,
it remains just a single grain;
but should it die there,
much fruit will it surely bear.

John 12: 24-25

Seeker,
How is hope planted or buried in the soil of these times?

Always surprising,
vibrant and verdant,
springtime softens winter sharpness.

Long has life languished,
in urgent anticipation
of a seasonal revolution,

aching for the return
of warmer rains
to seep into frosted corners

so leafy windblown casts
of a brittle past,
encrusted with toil and loss,

can soak and crumble
into loamy dark,
ready to receive

what we thought
had been buried
but was actually planted.

So subtly significant
this distinction
between burying and planting;

the slightest shift of intention,
attitude and expectation
can turn the motivation for interment;

from grave to ground,
committal to commitment,
dissipation to dispersal;

from scattered sprinkling
to soil seeding
with possibilities unseeable;

from sorrow-sodden lacrimation
to watering and quietly awaiting
tiny emerald eruptions of fragile hope.

I’ll plant and water, sow and weed,
Till not an inch of earth shows brown,
And take a vow of each small seed
To grow to greenness and renown …

Edith Nesbit

Being fallow, remaining receptive,
are more than the passive attitudes
of a lengthening season.

Seedtime requires furrowing—
willing breakdown and soul softening—
that openly permits promised renovation to root.

One barrier yet remains
impervious to malleable mercy:
the hard-baked clay of cynicism.

For the sin of the cynic
smugly rests in the presumption to already know,
thus allowing nothing new to root and grow.

The deep roots never doubt spring will come.

Marty Rubin

Empty within,
spare, cleared, scoured and bare,
surrounded by starkness and surrender,

such are the signals
of deeper discontent and disquiet
that prepare the soul for penetration.

Soil must be broken open,
seed broadly flung,
husk shed.

What feels like losing,
reckless abandon,
careless casting of life,

is but part
of the broader, longer
resignation and relinquishment;

of clenched fist,
of calloused cruelty,
of haughty disregard

that seek only to condemn,
control, contradict
the gush of grace.

This free-flowing seedtime shower
drenches and disturbs
to draw newness out through the crack.

What is all this juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
.

Gerard Manley Hopkins

Indeed the hardest part of growing new
is not giving up, but giving in
to the relentless rush of restoration.

To believe again,
through necessary change in mind and heart-sight,
that nothing is ever really lost or wasted.

For the worst and worn out
still is needed
to fertilize the new and freshly unexpected.

We shake with joy, we shake with grief.
What a time they have these two
housed as they are in the same body.

Mary Oliver

After a winter of lonely longing,
may you bury deep despair
and plant a joyful seed with tender care!

joe

Visit my website: inthestormstill.com
A BOOK BY JOE GRANT

Season of Kindness

Photo by Joe Grant © 2021

So, love your enemies,
do good, lend without expecting return
and you will be richly rewarded
as children of the Most Holy One
who is kind to the ungrateful and wicked.

Luke 6:35

Seeker,
In the face of so much loss and fear, how do we disrupt the cultivation of cruelty?

Winter bleakness bites at the edges;
nipping the nose,
gnawing at fingers and toes.

So we insulate, we withdraw–
wrapped tight and muffled–
in an attempt to dispel the cold.

The soul too
passes through seasons;
fresh, fiery and frigid,

as plague, pestilence, war
injustice and famine severe
create conditions conducive for fear.

There is no room for fear in love …

1 John 4:18

This year-long sickly season,
so stark and dark,
has harshed our words, has hollowed our hearts;

letting cruelty seep in
to sour friendship,
and exchange joy for gloating glee.

More dangerous still,
the twin bitters, grievance and spite,
have spiked prideful poisons with zealous vitriol.

What will it take
to disinfect, tender and thaw the sclerosis
of wanton desecrations, cold condemnation and callous law?

Have you not already been told what good is
and what the Holy One desires?
That you do justice, love kindness, and humbly walk with God.

Micah 6:8

Behold the ancient antidote-solution
prescribed by Micah of Moresheth:
just-love, infused with a kindly, humble bearing.

For no manner of malice can prevail
in the company of compassion,
nor hint of hatred in that gracious glare.

And the only limit
to sanitizing love-light
lies in our limited capacity to receive and reflect.

Bridging justice and humility,
loving kindness reflects bright divine likeness
that illumines the path to wholeness.

Yet kindness begs admission;
a dose of truth-telling, to break the fever,
undam remorse, rinse the cruel infections of the deceiver.

Lead, kindly Light,
amid th’encircling gloom;
Lead thou me on!

John Henry Newman

Divorced from kindly compassion,
how quickly justice devolves
into coercion.

Whether pious or political,
loveless blame-shame condemnations
of earth and her children are always unholy.

For the Holy One so loved the cosmos entire!

John 3:16

From intention, to thought, theology and agency,
may we excise with merciful precision
every trace of cruel judgment and mocking derision.

Thus, through honest kindness,
might we each find a way
to scatter seeds of merciful justice every day.

For God knows it is good to give;
We may not have so long to live,
So if we can,
Let’s do each day a kindly deed,
And stretch a hand to those in need,
Bird, beast or [hu]man.

Robert William Service

May the sting of disinfection awaken you
to welcome the long-awaited healing
heralded by a softer season of kindness.

joe

Visit my website: inthestormstill.com
A BOOK BY JOE GRANT