LIZZIE CABLE
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​F a i t h
Mural of Martin Luther King 
 Eugene, Oregon  
First Christian Church downtown.
We belong to belief.  When we believe truly in something there is little that can sway our consciousness.  Do I believe this?  Good question.  Trust plays a large role in belief.  Trust is the small voice inside like a child's voice that quietly says: "really"?  When someone we trust is confident in say, the color blue and calls it by name. We relent our unbelief and we believe in blue.  Trust and surrender inform us with information that creates belief and attachment to ideas that become foundations to our perspective on life as we know it.  Or at least as we 'think' we know it.  We believe blue is blue.  I do.  I also believe green is green.  The naming of things helps us develop stories that drive us through time making us feel rooted in reality.  So rooted in fact that our beliefs are deep.  Beliefs are rooted in our very beginnings.  Fire is hot if you touch it.  And pain can make us believe without doubt in realities that are woven in ancient ways and ancient understandings.

Before there were words there were grunts.  And there were motions of hands and body.  There was eye contact. Before there were words there were sounds.  Gutteral, deep, placating, joyful noises.  Life depended on communication.  Trust was 
indicative to survival.  Trust moved into action to save a life and to help a birth.  Love and trust grow together.

Now we believe that the sun will rise.  We believe that the sky is blue.  We have words to tell it if we have to.  From the cradle we can learn to believe all things.  We even believe that we believe.  Circumstances are different for all of us 
although similar in many respects.  There are always subtle differences and sometimes huge differences in what shapes and influences our lives and what we believe.



Picture
Picture
I Write a Poem

I write a poem
in my language
on paper
a miracle in all ways
my mind connecting to
my hand
with little to say
I try to find a way
forward as the sun
scoops in turn going
South than West
comfort only found
in slow attempts
at waking moments
like sleep
but deeper
All poetry and photographs the original work of Elizabeth Cable.  All Rights Reserved.  2020
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