Joseph Kreydt

Tag: meditation

  • Loneliness and Presence

    This loneliness, in a world awake, is unnecessary affliction. I run circles around this fearfully imagined lonely future — “it will end like this,” “that is a sign about that,” “she will abandon me,” “he will betray me,” “I will starve.”

    And I wonder why I’m lonely.

    It’s because all that’s real, all that exists, all that is in communion, exists in the present, and all the while I’m seeking it in the past or the future.

    Grace, ever remind me to take three slow breaths, sense and notice the world in the moment, feel the gentle scratch of pencil on paper, and reach out to a friend.

  • Poor in Spirit, Rich in Presence

    To live without recognition, without thought, of the past or the future is to be “poor in spirt” because the present is un-ownable, always being lost. Our only riches exist in some future anticipation or some past memory.

    The more fully we live in the present, the more we are blessed. So don’t be afraid to let go of your worries or regrets.

    You’re afraid because you fear poverty, but poverty is where you will find grace.

    To always live like this seems impossible. But to pray like this, and to pray often, is possible, good, meaningful, healthy.

  • Certainty Only Comes After You Take the Leap of Faith

    What is it that you really want in life?
    Focus on that.
    Focus requires sacrifice,
    De-focusing from everything else.
    Focus requires faith,
    Trusting that focus matters
    And that grace will be there
    When you need it.

    Let go of the outcome,
    And at the same time,
    Stay committed to the path.

    Certainty only comes
    After you take the leap of faith,
    Not before.

  • The Pain is Your Living

    The world wants you
    To be a tool for its use.
    Refuse.

    Hold your brokenness high.
    Your bleeding wounds, lift up.
    The pain, don't trade it for anything.
    It is your living.

    Do not fit in,
    Especially when it costs you money;
    Especially, especially, especially
    When it costs you you.

    Give up every happiness
    To stay wild.

    Give up everything
    To love the one who sets you free.

  • WTF Does “Give It Up to God” Mean?

    First, you must understand attachment and detachment. Desire itself and the thing that is desired are two different things. Detachment is to experience the desire — and all the feelings and thoughts that come with it — separately from the desired thing; to feel desire but not attach it to some outcome.

    Once desire is detached from any object, a strange emptiness is felt. Simone Weil calls this “the void.” Others call it a “God-sized hole.”

    Experiencing the void does not make God come to us, but it opens the door and invites him. With wisdom beyond ours, he decides whether to enter or speak.

    Simply, to give it up to God is to feel the desire but not reason or think about the thing that is desired. In that empty space, wait for God.

    This is difficult to do, even for just a couple minutes. Try. Let it be prayer. You might experience a great deal of peace in letting go of yourself.

    And what of the physical feelings — the trembling hands, the pounding heart, the cramped gut — how do you give those to God? Love in spite of them. It’s not easy, but it is the way.

  • Expect Miracles

    An intuition: I worried terribly about the forthcoming affliction of a beloved. I worried and worried as I walked. When the thought, “have faith that God will work miracles,” realized in my mind, a small, yellow butterfly crossed in front of me and fluttered by to my left. I, then, looked to my right and saw another. At no other point on my hour-long walk did I see another butterfly.

    We must always trust that, in God’s time, our longings will be met, our worries released. Miracles happen.

    No matter how certain our worries feel, even when reason confirms their truth, we must have faith. Miracles happen.

  • The Pain of a Beloved’s Pain

    A handwritten page from a notebook containing a reflective text about dignity, self-worth, and the implications of treating others as divine.
    When someone sees you as a god — a woman degrades herself because she sees you as the one who gives her value — the loving response always involves some sort of crucifixion. For the undignified woman, your own desires and any potential response which does not aim to restore her dignity must be killed, no matter how painfully, in such a way that her own dignity can be restored without shame.

    The pain Christ feels is not because our sins hurt him. It’s because it hurts to see a beloved one degrade or afflict their self. In the crucifixion, he takes our degradation and affliction upon himself. That is the preferable pain when someone you love is hurting.

  • The Lightness of Quiet

    I’ll open the window.
    You, in your warm way,
    Welcome in the nighttime hush.

    The heavy words
    We’ve carried all week
    We’ll offer, quiet, to the breeze.

    To a hearer, between us
    Won’t be much,
    But to a seer will be everything.

    In this witnessed solitude
    Our spirits have a ballroom.
    In the silence between us
    They slow dance.

  • The Pain Is Your Living

    A handwritten poem written in a notebook, expressing themes of individuality, resilience, and the importance of staying true to oneself.
    The world wants you
    To be a tool for its use.
    Refuse.
    Hold your brokenness high.
    Your bleeding wounds, lift up.
    The pain, don’t trade it for anything.
    It is your living.
    Do not fit in,
    Especially when it costs you money,
    Especially, especially, especially
    When it costs you you.
    Give up every happiness
    To stay wild.
    Give up everything
    To love the one who sets you free.

  • Is It Pride?

    A handwritten poem on a dotted notebook page, exploring themes of identity, existence, and belonging, with questions about pride, love, and home.

    it it pride?
    seizes my heart
    clings, desperate
    to be held
    to be known
    to be understood

    where is the wine
    that falls from the skies
    to rain dance
    to baptize

    is letting go
    something you do
    or something
    you don’t do?

    is it death
    or is it life?

    something in me
    longs like a child
    who lost his mother

    where is home?