Finding My Soul

I’ve been searching.

Finding an ability of my soul.

Humanity, mine, seems to be rescued through humility.

So walk with me through wild peach sunlit afternoons.

Warmth melts down from your reassuring voice.

You speak the language of us (wo)men. Earthy, wine and bread scented, you talk of a paradise now, here in our midst.
The kindness of a community, a kingdom, streaming out healing the days of sadness, the solar bright glimmer of your smile brings hope.

It’s a quiet vulnerability, that you instill in me. It changes everything. Empowering love.

You capture and wrestle my soul into freedom. First I am grounded, forced by love to the ground, the sandy floor of a child’s perspective. It’s from there I see that I can throw out my arms wide, embrace, dance, forget tomorrow, let go of the bruises of yesterday.

Today I am with you, and that makes all the difference.


Midstream Love

ZumaiaBeachbyJonathanMcCallumThere is a power that erodes the hard and impossible rocks of life. A power consistent and unending like a waterfall that can carry us toward the ocean if we let it, if we choose to stay in the midstream of its current. Sometimes when it turns a bend we find a quieter warmer shallower pool, a place to float before the thrill of the deep cool ocean. Then the sunlight dances around us in the place where streams from a thousand rivers meet, greet, unite as a watery one.

Love is this power that allows us to soar into your arms, the arms of a Father, Heavenly yet Earthly–Jesus.

Your action and affection of extravagant love meet our mild and finite affectionate attempts, making possible an entry into an eternal paradise that begins now, today, when we, plunged in the relationship of graceful merciful love, begin the renewing of ourselves and of all things.

Words and Photo (Zumaia, Basque Country) by Jonathan McCallum

Winter afternoon light

Winter afternoon light melting into blushing apricot butter clouds, bright cold moon night pulled up over the sky, the earth’s body warm below, relaxed and wakes with the peach sun’s kiss.

By Jonathan McCallum

Recorded music live in Zarautz just now @jonamccallum

A post shared by Jonathan McCallum (@jonamccallum) on

*Photo of Zarautz beach in the Basque Country


Natural Beauty

Building momentum on the bike down the slope, we caught up with the gentle breeze. From the gathering where my daughter loves to sing down to her grandmother’s home where she loves to play.

Enchanted by the simplicity of rolling, we find a familiar lush lawn and drop our bikes, slipping off sandals to allow bare-skinned feet to meet soft rain sprinkled grass.

It’s prickly with an occasional stick, maybe memories of words that hurt, as we walk beneath a beryl foliage of light. We worship, we sing, we laugh, we talk, we find a well of wilderness, of beauty, like a waterfall, sunshine pouring through the leaves, mixing with the breeze. I slow down, linger in that spot where the light seems to dance. We think of You.

This place reminds my soul to catch the Wind, to absorb the Light, to let my heart burn bright. We walk, feet to grass, we sense your beauty tickling our souls.
There is richness of life in this day, not measured in the accumulation of anything, weighed rather by the quality of every breath, the beauty of moments, together, in what we may mistake for boring or waiting or walking. We see the breeze sway the tall grass, leaves flicker with green luminescent light, we turn to sniff the flowery sweet scent, we glance at the flickering leafy light.

Then off home, a warm bath, a simple meal with loved ones bumping elbows, bread broken and wine sipped. Outside the light dims and the delight and surprise sparkle in childlike eyes, lightning spluttering from a short lived insect.

Briefly here and glowing silently then gone.

Words & Photos by Jonathan McCallum

School Terribly Wonderful

Transparent blue liquid bubbles in a slim beaker gradually formed an electric azul crystal that I gently placed on my bedroom shelf.

Ms. Papadopoulos taught history of the ancient Mediterranean—her ancestral backyard—passing it on through modern day stories from European cafes.
A world of history
Stories flowing from past to present.

The desire was growing
A longing
To know the world, to interact, to share stories together.
To be a lifelong learner.

Like that day up in the Tibetan mountains, running along the grass plains next to the yaks. Millennia upon millennia of history that I hadn’t read about in school.

So far beyond the books and beyond the tests
Which, at best, make us robots and numbers,
And always make me cringe.
I don’t value them. I value you, your story, you, just you, without the numbers, letters or titles.

They were many, the days in the classrooms, often grey and fog-tinged, when those of us with restless bodies longed to stretch out into the world, to go beyond.

To stand up and read
The world
Like a book full of vibrant life, dangerously real.
Adventures to be had, sights to walk and stories to experience.
Life dug up like archeological fragments, shared history.

And I find myself longing for more.
Out on some grassy hill looking to sea
Or beyond a mountain peak
Knowing that I learned what I loved.

And I loved to learn.


Words & Photo (of a friend’s bookshelf) by Jonathan McCallum