A Square Peg in a Round Hole

I came awake in the wee hours with a song on my lips: Swing Low Sweet Chariot.  My quiet voice, the trustable one, said that I’d write about it today.  I smiled a sleepy smile.

Then the voice elaborated: “You’ll transcibe the first verse and then write a few words about it.  Same with the second …” 


Hours later I looked at the lyrics.  Some of the verses moved me, some didn’t.  Did my large mind really want to tie me to a structure?  It’s not what it usually does.

Now in comes the small mind.  I looked at a verse and started focusing.  “How can fit my thoughts about this into the post?”  I started struggling, adjusting, fixing.  Soon one word appeared …



Now I can breathe again! 

So … let’s look at a few verses of Swing Low Sweet Chariot and see what wants to emerge.

Sometimes I’m up, and sometimes I’m down,
(Coming for to carry me home)
But still my soul feels heavenly bound.
(Coming for to carry me home)

If I sit quietly, I know something: I am home. And it’s not just geography. Something more expansive than Ghent is carrying me. I’m floating in an unknown sublimity that’s larger than the events of the day, than the disappointments and satisfactions.

If I get there before you do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
I’ll cut a hole and pull you through.
(Coming for to carry me home)

If you get there before I do,
(Coming for to carry me home)
Tell all my friends I’m coming too.
(Coming for to carry me home)

As well as the stillness of home, I’m also moving. We’re travelling together, you and me, and the destination lies hidden behind the clouds. We know it’s good.

Maybe your eyes will fully open before mine do. And maybe I’m first. It doesn’t matter. We’re both watching “extra” things drop away. Life is becoming natural, a flow, an adventure to be shared.


This is better

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