brian shivers

Privilege is real. Apologies are hollow. Dismantle it now.

O these forty days a journey of solitude walking together

(a poem) her name is      Rahab but they call her      a harlot      a prostitute           as if one can do that                alone           or                by choice they mock her      behind her back all in an attempt to strip her of her      humanity      narrative      dignity      identity      story      life yet, there she stands      in power in the pages of history an important      person a transformative      influence a woman a mother      of hope Rahab in a world that would rather      silence her           than hear her                voice                     speak her                          witness,      call her names           than acknowledge her                strength                     to write her own                          story she has a name the one given her      by her mother it's not the one you call her for her name is      Rahab.

Look beyond your self. Discover the beauty there. Look within your self.

You see me see you. Do I see you seeing me? We must strive to see.

Water is cleansing. Water sustains every life. Water is sacred.

use your eyes to see not just what is before you; look further, deeper

Let us remember Divine breath fills you, fills me, And the space between.

Shedding the old skin; Constrained ways now left behind; Behold the new life.

If I allow myself to understand you as an abstraction, it becomes much easier to minimize your needs. If I allow myself to perceive you as a generalization, it becomes much easier to justify my prejudice. If I allow myself to regard your life as an oversimplification, it becomes much easier to confirm my bias. If I allow myself to see you as you it becomes much easier to discover humanity.

The institution      concerns itself with      butts in the pews           and      dollars in the plate And the Spirit is grieved As people,      people full of the           breath of God,      people made in the           image of the divine, have      no water,      no food,      no homes,      no mercy,      no justice,      no peace. Dry bones,      a lifeless representation           of the Body      it is called to be. Can these dry bones           live? Only you know,           Lord. Fill us with      breath. Animate us with      Spirit. Recreate us in your      image. And the dry bones      begin to           rattle. Sinew. Tendons. Muscle. Flesh. Breath. Ruah. Life. Call. Proclamation. Good news      to the poor; release      to the captives; sight      to the blind; freedom      to the oppressed; favor      to all. And the dry bones      begin to           rattle.

let us be people of wells not walls; bridges not trenches; tables not fences; toward not from; with not against; together not separate of people let us be.

As She Moves (a poem) There is no      predicting      controlling the movement of the Spirit      neither           where she goes,      nor           where she calls           us to move. She is      not static; She is      dynamic; She is      full of power as she moves. No one      can set           her limits      "You may go           this far,      but no farther." No She soars      unfettered      not bound by           creed,           orthodoxy,           practice of faith.      Religious structures           cannot           will not      hold her back. Her whirlwind will      find           a way,      make           a way where once      there was none, And these dry bones      live through her      power,      strength,      will to breathe           where she chooses. There is no      predicting      controlling the movement of the Spirit      neither           where she goes      nor           where s

I will not cover my eyes pretending not to see so I may remain comfortable. I will not stop my ears pretending not to hear so I may remain disengaged. I will not close my mind pretending not to know so I may remain ignorant. I will not harden my heart pretending not to feel so I may remain distant. I will not shut my mouth pretending not to care so I may remain silent. It is in our seeing, hearing, knowing, feeling, caring that we discover our common humanity.

We fill our spaces, our minds, our lives with Noise; everywhere, all the time. Even our time alone has become Noise. Even our relationships have become Noise. Even our worship has become Noise. We claim to enjoy it. It makes me happy, we say. It fills me with joy, we claim. It gives me a distraction, we declare. And indeed it does. The Noise distracts us from the depth found in one another, ourselves, the divine. The depth is what frightens us most. So we fill it with Noise. Until all that remains is the shallows. Yet, it is in the depths we discover life. It is in the depths we find beauty. It is in the depths we realize us. It is time we find the courage to silence the Noise.

Spoken word poem on Ash Wednesday 2017. I Need These Ashes Stanza 1: Humanity Tonight, I need these ashes… I need them in a way I have never needed them before. Sure, I wish I could move directly quickly to celebration, to resurrection without these forty days; these heavy forty days. But tonight, I need these ashes for desiring anything else would deny the essence of my humanity. My humanity that gritty existence formed from clay filled with the breath of the divine. Humus - is the “dirt” at my root Adamah - is the very “ground” from which I came. It is from the earth that I am formed; it is to this earth that I shall return. Often I pretend as if I am something more; Often I live as if I am so much less than this human form. But I have been called to bear the weight of this flesh. These ashes remind me that I have been marked eternally claimed by the One in whose Image I have been made. Tonight, I need these ashes to remind me of

I open my eyes, and there I see You standing before me. At the same time you see me. We see each other differently. Are our eyes to blame for seeing the beautiful differences we see as a threat to our individual humanity. Or is the culprit the lens of tribal insecurity inherited from the self proclaimed protectors of our "safety". We must struggle to see deeply; beauty and strength are to be found in the depth of our technicolor diversity not boring monochromatic uniformity.

shh listen you are accepted you are loved you are enough yes, you are shh listen

Breathe... Rest... Feel... Do not dismiss This Your Human Experience It is here That we are met By the divine You Have nothing To prove You're Human