Archive for the ‘Soul Psalms’ Category

Countdown

Posted: May 16, 2019 by Ty in Soul Psalms
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6 months

180 days

Seizure free

is what they state means remission

Day 36 ticks on by

Countdown is on…

144 days to go…

long days of harder worker

Now no longer numb,

Deep dive begins

to root out the cause

of the PTSD…

the numbness that caused

the PNES

One day at a time

one hour

one minute

one second

one thought

one emotion

one memory

144 to go…

_____________________________________________

coverA stone skipping across a pond leaves ripples with each impact.

The joys and life of traumas are the like the skipping stone through the generations.

Soul Ripples

What happens when the helper needs help?

For over 20 years Ty Ragan served his neighbour from the rough camps to the shelters to home and every where’s in-between. The simple life lesson of Jesus of Nazareth to love your neighbour as yourself was the centre question to be answered in his life. In May 2016 his life would begin to change drastically through unknown seizures and strokes.

Enter into the ripples that brought him to 2016, the transformational power of love of family and friends as he seeks new ripples in hope for his soul.

Buy your copy at Amazon.ca today.

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3 questions

Posted: April 28, 2019 by Ty in Soul Psalms
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On the healing journey, it is like peeling an onion, never able to be constantly positive, and fresh eyes for one’s own history…the journey continues.

It first started asking

how many times have you hit your head?

To morphing along the path,

once narrowed to healing,

to a simple query of…

“how are you still alive?”

Renewing feelings long shut out

becoming complete of heart

soul, mind, and body

in touch

and exploring

deep diving into the memories

the body deems safe to explore

covering horrors most will never speak of…

simple things in ministry, writing and helping others

“Do the thing you do”

“Just one more miracle”

A miracle worker

some dubbed Cain, like an old television show

creating space

assertive advocate

speaking many times into the void

left to twist in the wind

no money for it

no cause for more staff

they do not fit our ideology-belief not allowed

want one more qualified

code for we want someone that will work for

pennies, and do what we say

not what those served strive for

removal of the advocates voice

heart and passion

learned to be helpless

assertiveness can become screaming

into the void

Finally,

the body and soul

say no more

and a life almost lost…

the long road back…

who is coming back?

What is left behind?

The question ringing in the soul,

Did they honestly think I was Superman?

 

 

 


Further reflections on a Leadership Summit within the Stone-Campbell movement, and understanding the Spirit within.

Always pondered

why I felt unmoved or

a round peg breaking into a triangle hole

Not understanding

the self-selection of religious groups

Spiritual not religious types perpetuate

their own exclusionary criterion

One risk taken

to attend a summit centered on being Shaken by the Spirit

C. Leonard Allen speaks of grammar of the Spirit

the piece of the Trinity forgotten not the right word

rather locked away in Sola Scriptura

only active within old old stories

or new charismatics tied to literal understandings

Missing the point or the mark

For it is within the Spirit,

that Church is family

that community is birthed

anew

In the Spirit

when people matter more than money

programs are secondary

to an open

welcoming table

for all…

The Spirit

living in and out of Love

I always wondered why

I felt on the outside of the religion

I loved so much…

and the answer was simpler,

than I ever believed…

I let the Spirit break through my present

and future

to shape my heart.


The Lenten Season officially comes to a close with what is known as the “scourging of the altar” concludes Lent. The betrayal is nigh, and the Good Friday awaits…but let us not skip ahead, but fall back to the week that was…and will be again.

Saturday before the Triumphal entry upon a burrow known as a an ass

A morning of flashbacks uncontrollably cracking through

beating my body like a desert hot wind against skin

cracking skin

letting the pain out

need to put it back in

Wonderful conversations

In workshops around

TheGood Grief Journey in to the New

What it means to be church?

Hold the Holy Silence?

Grow circles of Support?

Live through change–as pieces of Grief, pastoral care.

Holy Spirit things

Make it through

Lost to the wilderness…

Unable to resist

the pain renders through an already ravage system

Palm Sunday

Some say a Triumphal Entry,

Brother Jesus coming with those cast away from society on one side of the city

with dying reminders of the oppression of religion and Empire along the streets.

While Empire celebrated and marched on the other side,

flexing their muscle to bully and intimidate

Usually waving palms and singing Hosannas,

Folding crosses

and celebrating the Prince of Peace

Rolling through my own entries

Memories physically, emotionally and spiritually crippling

scant moments of lucid awakeness

before once more returning to fitful sleeps of thoughts creating

Waking nightmares

That have to be lived once more

what truly is one’s own entry of triumph

to sing Hosanna?

Monday’s Temple Toss

Human functions of worship

not used to include

but to exclude and bear burden

not to a sacred sanctuary but a money pit

a den of thieves

Jesus causes a stampede and throws tables chasing away

those that desecrate Holy Love.

Me and Little man,

convalescing,

still trying to get Pandora’s demons back into her box

seeing what will remain to work through.

Nothing creates sacred sanctuary

like a boy and his dad

watching cartoons

Discourse Tuesday

Where Jesus whither’s figs, talks with religious types and the end of oppression…

Body won’t let the demons reveal

it tremors with weakness,

still unsure if fully up,

after the recycle of harsh symptoms sans seizure racked my body

Shrink shows tools

that are of use,

to unpack the thoughts

and bring them to better use

An election goes

the way of awry

and people are left with depression inside

eating fries and sipping coffee

even your friend admits you don’t look healthy.

Why won’t the demons either pop or go back in the box?

The constant teariness is most obnox.

Spy Wednesday

Some would call it Holy,

but it is tied to the ending of ideals

and goodness…

of the oppressors plotting the End Game

for a rambling labourer turned rabbi of peace and love

perhaps a bit on the nose,

but it is a time of sipping coffee and inverting the game

plotting to build belonging

by shattering oppressive stereotypes

the demons are beginning to crawl back in

the one’s the body lets me deal,

crumble to dust

with the tools given

to explode the thoughts….

Wilderness time closes…

as we prepare the table

Maundy Thursday

Short form of Latin Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos (A New Commandment I give you)

The demons I cannot handle,

are locked away once more

for a healthier time to pick those scabs

A Day of rest

refresh

await the Holy Table to be set

and the water of the first sacrament to be poured

the words, A New Commandment I give you…

is the one to love.

Jesus showed

by humility of washing feet

to know and show love

The unfamiliarity

in the hot sanctuary

not what was expecting

yet the words around Gethsemane

and prayer

being awake and present

bringing it real

not just gospel story real,

but in everyday life

will we be willing to truly sit with

be present and awake with,

one another…

with ourselves?

 

 

Mum

Posted: April 17, 2019 by Ty in Soul Psalms
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You were our mum

but you were Mum to a whole lot more

any child that came through our door

you would care for.

A listening ear

a hug

Boxing up hand me down clothes

to mail inter-provincially

a pantry stash of food

always willing to help a friend

or a neighbour who just may be a new friend

tea was always ready to put on

You fought fiercely for your kids

and grandkids

but held us to standards

of decent civility

humility

neighbourliness

nothing more devastating

than a look of

disappointment upon your face

you were a neat lady

craft and bakey

simply believing in love, and God.

You taught me the basics

I grew from that rock

Always no more

than a phone call away

for aide

a chat

a laugh

advice…

In the dark days

after the long fight

where your soul never gave quarter

of hope’s light

you were weak and weary

cancer teary

it was not cancer that claimed you

but cancer created ptsd

dimmed your light

one final night

I miss you

Your smile

laughter,

I hope as you look down from Heaven today

I am a son you can be

proud of.

From the Grand Tea Party

with Jesus and friends,

now the Nana to your grandson’s friends gone to soon

new light,

new laughter

new stories and adventures…

may the lives lived here

still honour what you taught to be true.

 

I miss you, Mum.

Medicine 20/20

Posted: April 17, 2019 by Ty in Soul Psalms, Spirituality
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A wonderment if medical staff were allowed to be curious with patients…

So long ago,

the anxiety waved

first tour done,

another to begin

mother with cancer

told no big deal, old news

take these pills

they’ll calm you too.

Wonder if time had been spent

discussing what was past tense,

and how it affected one’s present tense?

A tremoring hand

a doctor not wanting to dig

off to drain blood one goes

back the doctor asks no question

no quarter need be given

the answer he states

unequivocally

is one must drink more water…

with hindsight 20/20

one ponders if simply ability

willing

to play at curious

may have scuttled

what was yet to

come undone.

Assertive

Posted: April 11, 2019 by Ty in Soul Psalms
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A Psalm of journeying into the healing of empowerment in one’s life. A slight emergence out of the darkness.

Empowered

A new heart is emerging

up through the shards of the old

rose bowl

sludge is burning away

not just being mopped up

to spill once more

Care and advocacy

beyond others

to encounter one’s own soul

and holistic being

Light of possibility

Cracking the concrete

green embers

peeking through

the crackling darkness

solid stone

of the sarcophagus of pain

Release

Breathe

Wait

Like an old CD player on a favourite song

hit

Repeat.