The Old Stone God in the Garden

About 20 years ago,  I awoke in the middle of the night after a very vivid dream.Here is the essential image from the dream I later painted

ill. 16

I started to talk this poem into my dream-recorder by my bed. This poem just came, and there was no way of stopping it. I felt the numinosity of it reverberating through my soul, I sat in sacred space while speaking.

This morning, visiting my root-belief of “being responsible for other people’s happiness or else they will die”, I asked Jesus, “is there something that can help me to truly let this go?”

He told me: “Go to your book ( When Fear Comes Home to Love) and open it.”

It opened on the poem. Here it is – and the verse that Jesus wanted me to see, is in blue.

“Fuckeat” is the archetype of violence and control described in the book – and the poem shows me how violator and violated truly are two sides of the same coin – a pattern that only can be healed with Christ’s vision of love.

Seeing the inner essence of Fuckeat.

Oh stone-god sitting in the garden –

your throne swallowing you, clutching you

tightly into its stony grip and you sit,

stiffened,facing the opening of the tunnel

waiting for visitors to exit and enter

into the sunny garden where you sit


your stony hands clutching the armrest,

or is it the chair clutching you –

you are inseparable, sitting from eons of time

oh stone-god of men, whom are you serving?

what purpose are you fulfilling,

what destiny is played out

by sitting in this enchanted garden

where green-ness and air and light

are playing and dancing around your grayness?

what gifts are you offering from your blocked stone-ness?

from your petrified stance?

what are you looking at, with those

stony eyes, watching the tunnel-opening


are you looking for rescuers? wizards

with magical wands, who by their touch

can bring you into life…

or are you waiting to be touched by loving eyes

who will free you from the grip of stone

and change you, perhaps, into dust again


into soft soft dust, played with by

the wind, mingling with the green growth of the garden, going into

Buckwheat and Forget-Me-Not’s

and thus transform yourself from gray to green?

will my loving eyes look upon you and change you?



to make me aware of the power

my loving gaze has over your form –

the love that can recognize the longing and help it

to be born again in a

blade of grass and

a daffodil


Oh stone image – not so important from where

you came, where you attached yourself to

stone and immobility

(yes, your fear, your fear

holds you within this structure)

not so important from where you came, but

to see where you are NOW –

to really see through the stone to

the diamond of longing


perhaps, dear god, TIME has played with you –

frozen time

has perpetuated your longing embedded

in fear, and made it stronger!

so it at last can meet my loving gaze, recognizing

my eyes

as your own, released from the illusion of

time and separation


BEING now, merging, exploring

the moist soil


being eaten by worms


being the worm, wriggling in

the soft dirt, penetrating it

learning its secrets


eating the dirt, giving it air

and space and growing-power

being close to seeds

(speaking to them)

feeling the longing within the seeds, the



growing into the Fullness

of your Being

stretching your leafy veins

drinking the moist down into

the roots, where the nourishing

light whispers

to the worms of other worlds:



Where is Stone, where is


if not here


Longing is

eye is

being is




fullness of Being meeting Itself

2 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Mona Gustafson Affinito
    Jun 29, 2015 @ 18:23:34

    Wow! This is powerful …


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Please note that nothing written here is intended as medical advice. Readers who think that they need help with a physical or psychological condition are advised to seek a qualified opinion.

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