Archive for the ‘Spirituality’ Category

Momentary Dejection

June 25, 2013


A fly buzzes
Hitting the screen
Wanting in
Wanting out
In hot, damp air
A ceiling fan
Spots of moisture
Here and there
On floor, on table
Sweat, tears, or both
Silently, stupidly
A phone awaits
To unanswered calls
Birds singing
Beautiful flowers
On the horizon
A cloud
A single cloud
Coming or going
Bleakness, dejection
But recognized
A fly buzzes

 © 2013 Thomas W. Cummins

A Father’s Day Reflection

June 19, 2013

This post is a bit tardy. Father’s Day was a day of being more conscious of my own fatherhood rather than that of my father.

My father passed away in 1991. Shortly following his death, I had two very brief, clear, distinct dreams.

The first dream was at some sort of beach, or seaside. Dad was in the water up to his waist with his back to the shore. He was standing exactly where the sun was hitting the water, and the brilliant glitter reflected off the small waves blinded me to the point of his being nearly invisible. Fifty yards, or so, separated us.

I called out to him, and he turned his head slightly to the right seemingly having heard something. My voice, for some reason, wasn’t audible to me, as though calling out in a wind storm. That was the extent of that dream.

In the second dream I was walking down some unrecognizable hallway. As I walked past an open door, I saw my father sitting in a straight chair by a window. Wearing a white shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled up a couple of turns, and khaki slacks, he appeared to be in his early 30s with black hair and a mustache. He had his legs crossed. A cigarette hung from his fingers as he looked toward the door.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Yes,” was his reply.

And that was that dream. I am sure Dad has been somewhere in hundreds of dreams over the past 22 years, but only these two survived into the daylight and my memory.

It is more than a bit interesting that the second dream found my father free from his paralyzing disease and massive stroke that rendered him speechless the last six months of his life. Gone were the ravages of career disappointments, shattered hopes and dreams, the end of flying airplanes, the debilitating effects of alcohol.

He was restored to a state of being that I would have seen at the age of three or four. An amazing and easily recallable image. In that dream, all had been erased back to Dad’s young fatherhood and the beginning of his career.

A Willingness To Be Present

June 17, 2013


The threshold
Of the future
Is pulled forward
Slowly and surely
Second by second
Or stands still
As the past
Slips away
Retreating fitfully
But never completely
Our yesterdays linger
Directly behind
Or back around a dim corner
Barely accessible
If warm and pleasant
Abruptly intrusive
If unhappy or filled with regrets
But what of our tomorrows?
Filled with hopes and dreams
Or other times with dread
Days and years
Lying ahead
Our dwelling place
To be
Fleetingly or longer
Yet, they are
Waiting to be filled
By us or circumstance
Health, family
Resources, friends
A spiritual foundation
A sense
Of the Other
All shape
A life to come
But, really, isn’t it now,
The present,
That will ultimately decide?
Our sense of self
Our willing to be
Our gratitude – now
Isn’t that what shapes us,
Now, and in the years to come?
How we view the past
Our acceptance of self and others
A willingness to be present

 © 2013 Thomas W. Cummins

At 71, A Reflection on Luke 13:6-9

March 7, 2013


No fruit
After three years
No figs on the tree
Give it another year
A fourth quarter
Another period to express its being
Life’s fourth quarter
For many, a final period
Something is being asked
More is required, expected
But three and a half quarters
Have already passed
Fatigue is present
Yet must be ignored
Fruitless time is over
Unrecognized, but over
Something is being asked
More is required
Not more activity,
Better results
Enough is being done,
Just needs to be better
More rewarding, more loving
Something is being asked
More is required

© 2013 Thomas W. Cummins


July 18, 2012



The other morning
The Pieta
A small replica
On a shelf
Found by the sun
Bright and full
The sun
Straddling the culminating point
Of its northward journey
Peeks through the window
Just so
Twice each year
Just before
Shortly after
The summer solstice
For a couple of days
It warms
That lower shelf
Why the intrusion?
That draws my eyes
An intrusion
Into my time
My time for solitude, contemplation
An intrusion

© 2012 Thomas W. Cummins

Recalling a meditative chant

July 4, 2012

I don’t know where this stuff comes from, things that wander into my head and won’t leave.

On this 4th of July, I am – for some reason –  recalling a meditative chant on Psalm 46:10, “Be still, and know that I am God!”

 Be still, and know that I am God

Be still, and know that I am

Be still, and know

Be still