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Beyond Me: Poems about Spirit in Scripture, Psychotherapy, and Life
Beyond Me: Poems about Spirit in Scripture, Psychotherapy, and Life
Beyond Me: Poems about Spirit in Scripture, Psychotherapy, and Life
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Beyond Me: Poems about Spirit in Scripture, Psychotherapy, and Life

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Beyond Me seeks to capture and convey the wonder, mystery, and healing power of the Divine Spirit and its activity in human beings, life, and relationships. This Divine Presence is often felt or glimpsed as Mystery--beyond us, yet within us--which grabs our attention and pulls us into a deeper and fuller exploration of what life and human existence is all about. As an ordained Presbyterian minister serving as a Pastoral Psychotherapist, Carroll E. Arkema is especially thrilled and fascinated to notice and then capture in his poems the congruency between psychodynamics, spiritual growth, and scriptural stories. His interdisciplinary perspective illuminates the complexity of the divine/human relationship, tracing how people change, heal, and are sanctified, while also resisting such change and growth. Personal experiences and scriptural accounts throw light on each other, and Arkema shows poetry to be a format capable of holding and integrating both.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateApr 24, 2014
ISBN9781630872335
Beyond Me: Poems about Spirit in Scripture, Psychotherapy, and Life
Author

Carroll E. Arkema

Carroll E. Arkema is an ordained Presbyterian minister (Presbytery of New York City), licensed as a psychoanalyst and as a marriage and family therapist. He was on the faculty at Blanton-Peale for sixteen years, teaching and supervising other therapists. This is his fourth book of poems to be published.

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    Beyond Me - Carroll E. Arkema

    Panic

    Through rolling Time’s interstices,

    Which I thought neat and tightly sewn,

    Sheer Panic pops—or is it Void?—

    And rips a ragged hole so large

    That Panic’s all there is.

    Breath won’t come, I cannot breathe!

    Except for short sharp anxious gasps.

    Past and future are no more

    The Now is nothing either,

    Is death the only out? Please end!

    But wait, I live!

    I’m not in charge, I need not be,

    Of breath and body rhythm.

    Unsteady, though.

    I search for sense

    To make of where I’ve been.

    My life is not my own, I see.

    My breath’s a gift to me.

    It’s not for me to make Time flow.

    I’m not secure in any Now,

    And Void is always nigh.

    What Peace I have

    Is when I rest

    In Source beyond my I,

    And seek to live in harmony

    With Source who lives through me.

    The Panic is a wake-up call

    To see if I’m on track,

    Remembering that I’m not in charge

    Of getting born nor back.

    I live in Time a little while;

    It need not be intact.

    I’m held by grace, unending Love;

    E’en midst my fears, I can relax.

    A man named Enoch walked with God

    Until, we read, "he was no more

    Because God took him."¹ Void’s redefined!

    As Life with God forevermore.

    As Time ticks on now, day by day,

    The Void I feared now reminds me

    That when I walk and talk with God

    I do and do not cease to be.

    1. The Holy Bible (NRSV), Genesis

    5

    :

    24

    .

    Pastoral Formation in the Congregation

    The Elders are gathered in their Meeting Room,

    Eight of the twelve of them.

    Sunday worship is due to start soon.

    At five minutes till, the Pastor comes in.

    As he enters the room, they all rise

    In a decades-old greeting tradition.

    This Pastor is new here, still ill at ease,

    Made more so by this old-fashioned custom.

    Is it me you guys are standing for? asks he.

    You men don’t need to stand up for me.

    He graduated in the Eighties from Seminary,

    And is more comfortable relating casually.

    But he gives off an air of superiority,

    A self-centeredness of which he’s not aware;

    Unable to acknowledge his insecurity,

    He compensates with a casual flair.

    But almost all of these Elders are farmers,

    They’re quite used to smelling manure.

    A certain amount of it is harmless,

    But a big pile of it is hard to ignore.

    After weeks of these same protestations,

    The discomfort increased on both sides.

    The Elders respected his education;

    His disrespect of their wisdom was not wise.

    They sensed that he was caught up in himself,

    That his modesty was actually a disguise

    For inner doubts about his spiritual health,

    And a willfulness he wouldn’t recognize.

    Unresolved tension continued to increase;

    And everyone began to fear an outburst.

    Then one Sunday they heard a still small voice,

    Verifying the trope that the last shall be first.²

    "It’s not you that we’re rising for, Pastor;

    It’s for the role that you’re sent here to fill."

    The Spirit was speaking through Arie Lanser:

    The whole room became profoundly still.

    The tension immediately disappeared,

    But Arie continued to speak;

    The Spirit was empowering each word,

    Through Arie’s voice, which was otherwise weak.

    "You’re the one who leads us in worship,

    You preach the Gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ,

    You’re set apart and ordained to God’s service;

    That’s the reason—not just for you—we all rise."

    Arie was a thin, diminutive man,

    Not a man with a big booming voice.

    We’re often much clearer that the Spirit’s at hand

    By the irony of the Spirit’s human choice.

    Wise is suspicion of a charismatic man;

    He appeals to the ideal in us all.

    We can lose ourselves in his animation,

    And forget that the Spirit’s in us all.

    Pastor’s ordination had been self-ordination:

    At the center was his ego, not God;

    But he was haunted by his own imperfection,

    Which he tried hard to deny but could not.

    He believed God wanted him to be perfect

    Before using him, so he tried hard to hide

    His inadequacies, but then all he had left

    Was false modesty and a self-deluding pride.

    He’d thus set himself up to be desolate,

    Cut off from other humans and God.

    The real God didn’t expect him to be perfect,

    But to be humble and empowered by God.

    What Arie offered him was the gift of new life:

    God’s presence as mediated through words,

    And a roomful of men channeling love,

    Reassuring him he could serve as he was.

    So the Pastor was freed from his

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