Comparison is the Eighth Deadly Sin

I used to be friends with a dental hygienist

who judged people by their teeth

and so my mind begins to wonder

about the condition of my bicuspids and molars

so much that we eventually drift apart.

If this is true for teeth, says Perfectionist,

then surely other experts cultivate

similar measures for acceptance?

And so, the professions of various acquaintances

begin a long march across the field of comparison.

The merchandising manager at the dress shop

had to know about my threadbare closet

(how the floral blouse always shows up on Wednesdays)

and thus my limited wardrobe would invariably

have to circumvent that friendship

A psychologist raises my lingering suspicion

that he has X-ray vision into my psyche;

the nurse knows instinctively about that small goiter

the fireman discerns the smoke detector battery must be dead

and a pastor knows the hidden depths of my soul

Expert knowledge becomes a smile killer,

beauty competition, mental or physical health exam

home safety evaluation and a spiritual assessment

if everyone can see me the way I see myself

All those not-so-hidden little faults on parade

And it crushes me then that my life as a poet

could possibly discourage others as they read my words

quash so many, if they think I look at their writing

with some measure of carefully crafted eloquence

and find them wanting.

Comparison kills.

On the other hand, connection grows

if we set aside the rulers

human measures of success

better-than, less-than subjectivity

then, we are grateful to learn from friends 

the life-giving principles of collaboration,

share knowledge like a library loans books

our own personal Wikipedia

downloaded from one to another

Expertise to build a life:

that caring for teeth improves overall health

certain clothing can minimize body flaws

that no, it’s not just me

who feels inadequate at times

If we only compare notes about life. love. longing.
put down one-upmanship, then
home can be safe, goiters can be treated
and redemption is possible, 

even for a judgmental hygienist
or a renegade poet.



Picture: depositphotos.com #5431243, standard license

Virtual Reality

I wake slow and easy on a Saturday. Love on the dog, choose bits and bytes before brekkie, dig through the web to surf, sit around the net warming my open hands to stories, to life.

Stand beside my niece on her first trip to the ocean. Drink satisfaction in the recording studio with my son. Witness jellyfish and whales with Dale. Sing "In the Jungle" with Billy and Jimmy. Mock Alberta Spring with Marcia. Weep with two widows, dancing together on our ashes.

David shows why otherness is worth the hazard and John reminds me there's no transformation without brokenness. Serena shares a cup of grace, that faith isn't about perfecting a behavioral combination - it's about trust. Period.

And I pray gratitude for

• an office in a spacious place
• enlarged borders
• forgiveness found and forwarded

This isn't social networking
This is the net working like a Body
All parts a part
A living breathing
Virtual. Virtuous. Vibrant. Reality
of love, loss, beauty and truth

Good morning friends.
God's got this -
holding us all in wide open
grace-scarred hands
and we get to be here
holding each other
and this dear reality.