The Three Fields

Author’s note: The following is my version of some prose poetry that I wrote during a time of prayer.  It is one of the central themes of my life, and these fields are ones that are more familiar to me than any other I have traveled.  

I’ve been asked quite a bit about the meaning of my latest arm tattoo and it’s cryptic text.  This is one of three blogs that goes into what it means to me.  The first one is the one entitled, “The Land Between.”  This is the second one.  The final one, that will explain more of the meaning of the text will be at the conclusion of the book I am presently working on called “How to Be a Hero in Three Easy Steps” (which I’m hoping to finish by November).  It will be in a chapter called “Saints in Secret”.  Much blessings and enjoy your journey with me to these three fields.

The Three Fields

There are three lands in which I dwell.  There are three fields that my heart and my mind have journeyed through and to which my soul has anchored.  For feast or famine, I will call these places home, although some cause me to tremble.  Some I travel to frequently, and I shiver to think they may be where angels fear to tread (while mankind wonders why).  Others I have only traveled to in my dreams, and will one day journey when what dreams may come.  These fields are my passion, my nightmare, my song of redemption.

One of them is birthed in my past.  It is called Saday Chadel, the field of the forsaken.   It is a dark place of rejection where the sun rarely shines.  It is my demon.  It is my tormentor.  It is my cold night that I flee to when I am lost hopelessly in myself.  I long to leave it forever, but often find myself returning to its shores and defending its borders.  Although a desperate place, there has been hope amidst its desolation.  It was the place where the ageless friend looked upon a lost soul and uttered one phrase.

“Live!”

For good and bad, this land is part of who I am.

Ezekiel 16:1-6

One of them is the blessing of my present.  It is called Morialta, the field of the ever-flowing.  It is a place of contrast as vast and changing as the human soul.  It is a place I fear and love.  It is a place of peace, a place where evil is barred to enter…  all evil, that is, except that which I insist to bring in myself.  Yet it is a good place and it is a holy place.  This land is part of who I am becoming.

Psalm 23:5

One of them is but a dream of my future.  It is a hope of a promise.  It is called Karmel Gal Chayah, the field of the waves of life. It is as eternal as its Creator.  It is my destiny and my passion.  It is the land the young Pilgrim of the story fixed his eyes on as he ran  from the city of Destruction yelling “Life!  Eternal Life!”  A place where mankind fears to tread (while angels wonder why).  To sleep, perchance to dream.  To hear, “Well done, good and faithful servant!”. There can be no greater hope than having every tear wiped away on this blessed meadow by that celestial city.   This land is part of who I will become.

2 Corinthians 5:8

It is on these lands that I walk, I sleep, I love, and I live.  I will cry and I will laugh on these shores.  On these lands the sum of who I am will be tallied and will not be found wanting.  Of that I am sure.  For in none of these lands…

…In none of these lands do I walk alone.