A Simple Prayer

I read somewhere that our bodies are made new every seven years--our cells, muscles, and tissues have all regenerated themselves and been replaced in the preceding seven years. This means that physically we have all progressed, grown, and been made new since this heartbreaking and tragic day seven years ago. Old things have passed away, and new life has come to pass. Brokenness has begun to reveal new growth. Desolation and destruction have been seed--what have they produced in our lives, in our world?

I'm not sure how we can ever really heal from September 11, 2001, in the way we can never truly heal--as in return to the way things were before--the loss of a loved one, the shift of a life, the death of a dream. Today, sitting here at my desk, I feel such deep sadness for the families whose lives were changed forever on this day seven years ago. I still mourn for our country--for the loss of the perception of safety and the acts of anger and aggression that were borne of our pain. We move forward, limping and leaning on each other, unsure of what lies ahead and unable to make sense of what lies behind.

I do not know in any human way how we can heal from the pain caused by acts of desperation, but I do trust that God sees, loves, and holds all our thoughts, acts, experiences--our whole world--in a sense of harmony, peace, and goodness. Sometimes my limited view and understanding, and my struggle with the pain, make it hard to see goodness where such anguish still exists, but I know God has a truer view, the only real Big Picture, and that in God's time and in God's perfect way, comfort comes, healing spreads, new growth arises.

It's been seven years. Scientists say we are new in body. May God give us fresh eyes to see, know, feel, and live fully from a sense of newness in soul.

Peace and comfort today, wherever you find yourself, knowing you are safe in God's care.

Growing in tune with the seasons

Today I'm in a preparing-for-fall mood, feeling the coolness of the air, noticing the slight changing of the colors of the trees. Internally, there's a sense of nesting, which I particularly love. Each year September is an important month for me, a time of new beginnings and a celebration of all the inner growth from the previous year. I was thinking about arriving in September again, along with this idea of living in tune with the seasons, and I noticed that, for me, each month has a kind of correlation to the inner spiritual growth and learning that's happening for me through the year. I guess I am in tune with the seasons, more than I knew! Here's a kind of playful calendar for inner work that connects to the seasons of nature (at least in the part of the world where I live):

September: Decide where in your inner and outer life you want to learn and grow next.
October: Harvest the learning and growth you’ve done over the summer.
November: Share your bounty with others and say thanks.
December: Celebrate hope, vision, love, healing, new light, growing consciousness.
January: Start fresh in a relationship, a project, or your understanding of yourself and relation to God.
February: Practice unconditional love toward all beings—whether they are hibernating or not. :)
March: Love the winds of change and open to all possibilities. Life is bringing you good things.
April: Let the seeds of hope, vision, growth, and consciousness be planted (and don’t be afraid to shed a few tears; they enrich the soil).
May: Witness, participate in, and celebrate the euphoric, exploding abundance of your early growth!
June: Tend your growing lovingly, feeding and watering (and appreciating) as needed.
July: Intentionally weed out the thoughts, opinions, and actions that can hold back or delay your growing.
August: Notice how far you’ve come! The season is almost complete. Continue to nourish your growth by caring for it with water, food, shade, and love. Begin thinking of ways to celebrate it at harvest.

How is your life in tune with the seasons? I'd love to hear, if you want to post a comment and share your thoughts.

Namaste, friends. :)

God's Happy Love

Catherine of Sienna said it all this morning in this quote from her Letters:

If you live every day with respect for others, God's happy love will be your best friend.

Wonderful! Blessings on your day, :) k

Buddhist Proverbs

I got Pema Chodron's Getting Unstuck audiobook from the library yesterday and today after I dropped Cameron off at school I listened to the first part of the first CD. She has such a lovely voice, lyrical and gentle with humor and space. Her words and thoughts and teachings are grounded in such a moving sense of self-awareness and self-acceptance; I found myself wanting to listen just for that loving blessing of the sound of gracious openness, a type of beautiful music.

Visiting her site led me on to other Buddhist teachings, and I found her referenced on this site, along with a huge list of Buddhist proverbs written in the 12th century. The site displays how each of several teachers of Buddhist thought phrase the various proverbs. This captured my imagination and I decided that for my own learning I would create a PowerPoint presentation of the various proverbs, to cycle through on my laptop as a screensaver. What a great way to fit awareness and spiritual practice in with my work! :)

So, just in case you're interested in the same thing, here a link to the simple presentation. Be forewarned--it's long; I think there are close to 70 slides. But don't work too hard at taking it all in; just let it wash over you, like cool mist on a mountain walk. :)

Buddhist proverbs
PowerPoint 1997-2003 version

Note: For some reason the file isn't running automatically as a PowerPoint show, so if the PowerPoint file opens on your computer, just press F5 to start the slide show.

So True

Well, I have to admit this quote of Thomas Merton's is a little deflating for people like me who try to put words--emotions, images, something--on the tiny transformative spark that occurs when faith, heart, and consciousness come together:

No writing on the solitary meditative dimensions of life can say anything that has not already been said better by the wind in the pine trees.

Thomas Merton. Honorable Reader. Robert E. Daggy, editor. New York: The Crossroad Publishing Company, 1991: 91

Today I have the windows open in the sunroom (it was only 59 degrees this morning when I woke up! Wonderful!) and I'm sitting here listening to the wind in the forest as I write. The trees, the locusts, and the voices of children on the school playground a quarter of a mile away all mix together to make the most delightful music proclaiming the goodness of God, the wonder of life, and the real and inexhaustible hope that keeps us loving each other and envisioning a healed world. What else is there to say? We can only listen, receive, and offer our breathless thanks.


Note: To subscribe to the Merton Institute's Weekly Reflection (which is how I received this Merton quote today), go to https://www.mertoninstitute.org/weekly_reflections.php and click Subscribe Now on the right.

Listening & Guidance

It occurred to me this morning--after an exciting, jam-packed, creative week--that the most profound change and deepening in my spiritual life over the last 10 year has not come about because I did more, understood more, or prayed more. It wasn't the books I read (although those certainly helped), the situations I lived (although at each place I found God right there in the midst of it), or thousands upon thousands of prayers, actions, and thoughts that went streaming to the Loving Presence I know as God. Rather, the big inner shift, the opening, the deepening, the enriching happened when all the outer striving and trying and working and acting ceased, and I began to notice a need for listening more. Just a quiet, open, gentle space, where I listened quietly and in love for whatever God would or wouldn't say to my heart. The listening became the prayer, the act, the communion, the point. It is a refreshment like nothing else, a moment of gathering in beauty in the Garden. I highly recommend it, whether you use something like the Centering Prayer (here's a great site for that) or the Jesus Prayer or the simple and beautiful Quaker method of silent worship. Take even the smallest moment and just breathe with God. There's no refreshment like it, and from that still centered spot in the core of your being, everything else begins to blossom. :)

The Gift of Perfect Peace

The other day Ruby (my 22-month-old granddaughter) was here spending the day with me (which is joy enough) and we had just finished running a bunch of errands. As we turned onto our street, Ruby nodded off to sleep, her arms and legs hanging limp in her car seat, her little head snuggled against the padded cushion. Earlier in the afternoon, we'd spent more than an hour "trying" to go to sleep at naptime (which for Ruby means repeatedly playing the music on her Fisher Price aquarium, singing to herself, and saying "Mama-Dada-Nana" like a mantra). As an active almost-two-year-old, she's fascinated with everything and has lots of good ideas and really doesn't want to give it all up and go to sleep. (I can identify--when I was little, I used to stretch out on my babysitter's bed and sing "These Boots Are Made for Walkin!" at the top of my lungs instead of taking a nap. I guess that dates me, doesn't it?!)

When Ruby slipped off to this peaceful sleep, I knew this was precious time--and a rest she really needed. Come to think of it, maybe I did, too. It was a beautiful day; I parked the car in the garage, rolled down all the windows, left the sunroof open, and enjoyed the breeze, the goldfinches I could see in my rear view mirror, and my sweet, sleeping grandbaby for an entire hour. What did I do? Simply enjoyed the time, loved her, thanked God.

It was the best rest I've had all week! Wonderful. May you find surprising gifts of respite in your day as well.

Singing Thanks

Yesterday I wrote this in a note to a dear friend, and the thought and feeling has stayed with me, so I thought I'd share it here: "In the moments when I feel most awake and present, I get a sense that all creation—-literally all creation—-is singing Thanks! to God. When I am really here without defense, projection, or pretense, I am singing it, too."

Really Sing It today! Countless angels are your backup singers. :)

Living Gratitude

Yesterday afternoon my sons and I spent two hours in the waiting room of a MedCheck while my oldest son found out about chest pains that had begun earlier in the afternoon. Ordinarily this wouldn't be the best place for contemplation--the waiting room was full, my older son was grim and concerned; my younger son was anxious about a school project due today. The fear that usually accompanies an event like this for me wasn't present--I knew from Christopher's voice and color and breathing that all was reasonably well (although I did feel it was important to have his symptoms checked out because my dad had heart problems). After two EKGs and lots of listening, the doctor told Christopher he had strained a muscle in his chest, just above his heart. Nothing a few Ibuprophen and a couple of days' rest can't fix.

While we waited, I read an old book by the Dalai Lama that I found at the library last weekend: Kindness, Clarity, and Insight. The book is a compilation of lectures he gave the U.S. 20 years ago, and they are wonderful, simple, and clear.

In the midst of this experience, the Dalai Lama's voice and thoughts washed soothingly over me. He wrote about compassion, compassion for all beings. This type of compassion is not simple empathy but a kind of love and gratitude that begins within a heightened awareness of our own blessing. He suggests we remember a great kindness someone in our life has done for us--perhaps a parent, a spouse, a sibling, a friend. Then we allow our gratitude for that great kindness to shine brightly within us. Soon we respond to others with that same sense of gratitude, a thank-full approach for the blessing they are bringing into our lives. And from this ever-growing underground stream of gratitude, true compassion pours out naturally--beginning with my thankfulness for you, I want happiness for you and as well as health, freedom, creativity, joy, and love. When I act from compassion, it is because the idea of us as two separate beings has dissolved and I recognize that as you love, I love; as you hurt, I hurt; as you seek peace, I seek peace.

May we flourish in the true compassion that arises from the grateful Heart of all being.

Pray without ceasing...for all beings

The Abbey of Gethsemani is continuing its gentle shaping influence on my heart and life. Since my visit there in late May (I attended a wonderful writing retreat at Bethany Spring), I have been immersing myself in Thomas Merton's faith and thought. Because he has such a strong, clear voice in his writing (and so honest!), I wanted to hear the sound of his voice as it really was. The director of Bethany Spring pointed me to a link on their site, and then I wanted more, so I searched YouTube and found a few "videos" (really audio with photos) someone has uploaded. The first link I clicked on was Merton teaching new postulant monks about the Jesus Prayer. I'd never heard of this prayer before and it seemed too simple to be very effective, at first, but then, listening to Merton's teachings, I realized the transcendent power--the Holy Spirit is praying with you when you pray this prayer.

I realize this is a big concept and probably something that should be covered in a book as opposed to a blog post, but I have been praying with the Jesus Prayer for a while and it is truly a transforming and loving and powerful prayer. I've also just begun reading The Way of a Pilgrim, the personal spiritual journey of a 15th century Russian peasant who desperately wanted to pray without ceasing and discovered the even-then ancient tradition of the Jesus Prayer was the method that ministered to the yearning of his soul.

So what is the Jesus prayer? Simply, and heart-fully, this:

Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me...

Because I am learning and beginning to live with a greater awareness of Oneness, I often pray have mercy on us... or have mercy on all, or simply, have mercy. I'll write about my discoveries on the topic of "mercy" in a later post...

Yesterday it occurred to me to combine the Jesus Prayer with tonglen as I was in conversation with someone who was hurting. If you're unfamiliar with tonglen, go here. Pema Chodron, the American Buddhist nun, wrote about the practice of tonglen in her book When Things Fall Apart: Heart Advice for Difficult Times. The use of breath as prayer is part of both the Jesus Prayer and tonglen--it was a very tender and beautiful moment. And the person I was with seemed to feel a shift in the depth of struggle. A lightening occurred, and the rest of the evening seemed to be more peaceful (even with a little joy thrown in).

Note: I was hoping to share the links to the Merton teachings on the Jesus Prayer with you, but when I checked the links, the creator of the clips has taken them down. If I locate them again I'll post them here at a later time.

Be well, and may you feel, receive, and share all your blessings today! :) k

Dissolving Inhumanity

Today on the way to work, as I was merging from 69 South onto 465 West, a trucker refused to let me in. Then the car in front of him wouldn't let me in. I was surprised--this has never happened to me on the way to work before, even though I always drive in rush-hour traffic. I was dumbfounded as these drivers seemed to set their faces against me and pretend not to notice my flashing turn signal. The truck was downright aggressive about it. Finally, I was able to zip into a tiny space that opened up. I was puzzled and a bit stirred up by the experience.

I started thinking about the moments of grace that are available to us as we drive. I like to leave a relaxed amount of space between my car and the car in front of me, so other drivers feel like they can move into that space if they need to. I like the way that makes me feel as I drive--like I have more room, more time, the grace to be flexible. Other drivers ride the bumpers of the car in front of them, pushing, leaning forward, always late. I've felt that way before and I don't like it. I choose not to create that in my day, or impact others' driving experience with that kind of energy.

I got to work and glanced at the clock on my phone as my computer came to life. 8:15. I think that's the moment the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, killing 80,000 instantly, on this date in 1945. I was silent and sad for a moment, praying. Is it possible that the imprint of inhumanity--absence of grace--is left on this day? I prayed to dissolve any internal belief I carried about the "hardness" or "insensitivity" of the inflexible drivers this morning. I may not be able to do much to affect the horror and injustice people suffered on this day (and in the months and years following), but I can dedicate myself, my efforts, my thoughts, and my prayers today to dissolving the inhumanity in myself, silencing the echos of judgment and separation that are tempted to arise through me this day.

May all beings feel the stirring of Spirit and Grace today, without exception.

Relax, Martha, Relax

This week has been a whirlwind--a happy whirlwind, but a whirlwind. At home, family is visiting and we are celebrating. At work, the foundation board and the executive council are both here having multiday meetings. I am part of a three-person team at our wonderful nonprofit working to launch an exciting new initiative (which for me involves the development of new publications, a web site, and CD contents). In the midst of it all I'm trying to keep my toes dipping in the underground stream of prayer. So far, so good.

Last night after dinner and birthday cake, we all sat in the living room and talked about things near and far, past and present. We offered up things we loved and reflected on oddities and interesting awarenesses. At one point I walked into the kitchen with a stack of cake dishes and started to run the water so I could rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. But then I changed my mind, put them all in a pile in the sink, and went back into the living room to relax on the floor with my family and be part of the conversation.

It was a subtle shift and one I barely noticed. With that tiny flicker of thought, I transformed from Martha to Mary. I made that huge migration from the world of tasks, completion, and achievement to the world of connection, participation, and love. There's a lot more grace in Mary's world; more openness, room for laughter, space to breathe.

And you know what? The dishes got done. And more besides. Without effort, and floating on the good feelings of having been part of love's arising.

See? There's hope for Martha's of the world, after all. Enjoy your day!

Life comes calling

Yesterday and today I was goaded out of bed by a young male cardinal, who excitedly lights in the river birch tree outside my second story window and then flies against the window (gently, with wings fluttering awkwardly) and back to the tree branch, over and over again, 8 to 10 times. He looks into the room, turning his head from side to side, his black questioning eye probing the quiet coolness. After several repeats of his fly-against-the-window technique, he grabs the wire mesh of the window screen with his tiny claws and hangs there, suspended on the window. His call is congenial--his voice has a quieter, more collegial tone. He seems to be speaking directly to me--or to some object or other bird he's looking for--calling this being out to do something, notice, live. His action are very intentional and directed, but I don't know what expression is fueling them. Or maybe I do, but I don't--quite--believe I do.

I do know this. It's an awesome and wonderful gift, something that feels like a sacred honor, to be invited into the day by a cardinal who has seemingly discovered something worth noticing in me. Of course, I'm not sure he's really looking for me specifically. And I don't understand his language. And although I sense excitement and intentionality, these could be my own descriptors of emotion and motivation that don't have anything to do with what's going on inside him.

But he shows up, he makes the effort, he is saying something and doing something and it appears to have some connection to me, somehow. I realize how much this gift of the cardinal's presence is to me a snapshot of the gift of the presence of God. I feel God there, noticing and caring, drawing me beyond myself; but sometimes I don't understand the language, I'm fuzzy about the expectation, and I'm not really sure God meant me at all but is just loving and speaking and acting with indescriminate Love.

But, still, not knowing the meaning of the experience doesn't keep me from raising my hand from beneath the soft layers of warm, weighty covers, waving at the cardinal hanging on the screen, saying, "Good morning! Here I am! I see you!" and wondering what goodness this miraculous promise portends for this day.

May your Love awaken in you today a breathless sense of transcending mystery and the reassuring comfort that your deeper Life will come looking for you if you tarry under the covers too long.

Prayer is Freedom

Talk about a powerful phrase. What more do we need than that? I read this last night in Thomas Merton in Alaska: The Alaskan Conferences, Journals, and Letter. Prayer is freedom. Because when we turn our hearts and awareness to God, we instantly transcend anything that seems to bind or separate us. Here's how Merton puts it:

"...prayer is our real freedom. It is the liberation from the alienation that I have been talking about.

It is in prayer that we are truly and fully ourselves and we are not under any other power, authority, or domination. We have to see what that means. 'He has put all things under His feed and made Him ruler of everything, the head of the Church which is His body, the fullness of Him who fills the whole creation.' You have to spend your whole life going over and over again through a passage like this. It is the only way you can ever get anywhere with it. You don't just read it a few times and then read it with a commentary. You keep coming back to it, and maybe after fifty years of chewing on it you begin to see what it really means." (p. 113-114)

Of course, Merton is talking about cognitive understanding here, but the good news is that it's something we can leave behind as we practice the presence of God. Prayer is freedom from all illusion that tempts us to believe that there is such a thing as "not God."

Faithfully Present

I learned something new about myself yesterday. My ability (and desire) to focus quietly and simply on what's before me is increasing--so much so, in fact, that it really causes pain and stress when I feel scattered and pulled in different directions. Yesterday afternoon I noticed my increasing anxiety level when little Miss Ruby decided not to nap. How would I finish editing the manuscript I was working on? When would I be able to evaluate the new submission? I had so much I'd planned to cram in during naptime!

But napping just wasn't part of Ruby's plan yesterday, so ultimately we both just went with the flow. And I discovered something precious and important. When Ruby is here, I just want to be faithfully present with her, in love, in joy, in exploration and gratitude. When I edit, I want to be immersed in the words and the meaning, listening for the author's voice, bringing all my abilities--faithfully--to bear in the moment of work. When I fix dinner for my family, I want my whole self to be there, chopping, mixing, sauteing, loving, creating.

It's painful to be divided, to be planning the next while you're living the now. How can we live fully if our minds are already planning tomorrow's to-do list? Today I choose to celebrate this day the Lord has made by being faithfully present to the gift immediately before me, whether that's love, work, play, or service.

May you discover a hundred little smiles of God in your path today...just for you.

Quiet Mind

Shhhh...
For this moment, breathe deeply,
relax your shoulders
let your knee rest above its ankle--
no fretful bobbing up and down
the breeze kissed your temple just now
did you feel it?
your leaning into consciousness
your striving, sweating, lifting, molding
--the honorable effort of working out your own salvation--
lifts away like a firefly as you relax and open your hand.
Now, feel the Breath
hear the Heartbeat
let yourself be perfectly,
unreservedly,
eternally
Loved.

Late-Night "Oh"

A few minutes ago I was out driving, sun roof open, crickets chirping, under a full moon. I picked Cameron up from a friend's house and we drove home through the open countryside. I said something to him, relating a story from earlier tonight. I tried to re-explain and then gave up. "Why did I even want to tell that story?" I wondered. A little jolt of self-recrimination arose. Then a quick thought, "I am noticing these unloving--or at least suspect--behaviors in myself. Merton would call that the ongoing work of grace."

Suddenly I felt this big sense of "Oh"-ness spreading inside. I relaxed. It was like a warm current in a lazy lake. The fact that I can see these irritations and obstructions in myself is a great improvement over not seeing them. Grace is doing its work in me. Consciousness changes everything, and if these unloving thoughts are arising enough to be seen, they will soon evaporate in the Light of Love.

That's worth at least a small-h hallelujah. Goodnight!

Contact with Transcendence

I love the way Thomas Merton, Jesus, Rumi, Sri Ramana, and Lao Tzu (and many, many more--including you and me) all wrote, spoke, and moved from a sense of expressing (and pointing to and loving) transcendence. This morning it occurred to me, reading Sri Ramana's Reality in Forty Verses that all contact points to transcendence, like a kiss. My fingers touch this keyboard, and at the point of contact my being says "Thank you!" for the ability to connect, express, emote, offer, receive. The keyboard becomes a symbol of transcendence, enabling this arising sense in me to move beyond a perceived limit of me, Katherine, and go free into a medium where you receive it and draw it into your own consciousness, to stir whatever it may stir there. The music in the background--transcendent beauty becoming audible, articulated for the senses and pointing to God. The light on my desk--my vision makes contact with it--an expression of all Light, the Light of the world, the transcendent Truth of all being.

So many gifts, and so many thanks! This must be what "life abundant" is all about. Be blessed today! All will be (and is) well.

From Blessings to Blessed

2006 was an 84-hummingbird year. 2007 brought 119 hummingbirds. I was enamored, awed, captivated, inspired by them. They were little miracles, and they said something to me about my own soul--sometimes visible, a miracle, sometimes not. As I wrote those two summers in my sunroom, with the windows open on three sides and the cool green of the river birch tree illumining the eastern wall, I stopped and added a note with a number in my journal each time a flashing green, ruby-throated hummingbird hovered by the petunias, the bee balm, the wildflowers just outside my window.

This morning, early, I was out, and saw the empty hummingbird feeder and the spot where the bee balm grew in years past, and realized I've seen only three hummingbirds this year. The pattern of my day is much different now--I work in an office miles from my home for most of the week. Life has drawn me out of the sunroom, with its sacral, precious peace.

But something else has changed, too. Today I can feel the same wonder looking at a mosquito that I felt last year being blessed by the visit of a hummingbird. I can feel the pulse of gentle harmony in traffic. I can marvel at God in and between and through the letters, where I once thought I had to wait for something to arise in the space.

Moving beyond a tallying of blessings, maybe we discover that everything, everything is a gift and that counting is impossible because to count is to divide. We can bask in the whole knowing of our blessedness today. A tender sigh of Thanks with every exhale would not be too much.

Spiritual Intervention #2

Good morning! As I was preparing for work on this lush rainy Thursday, I read through the entry for today in A Little Daily Wisdom: Christian Women Mystics and was blessed by Hildegard of Bingen:

When anger tries to burn up the temple of my body, I'll look to the goodness of God, whom anger never touched. I'll look to God whom anger never touched, and I'll become sweeter than the breeze whose gentleness moistens the earth. I'll look to God whom anger never touched, and I'll have spiritual joy because virtues will begin to show themselves in me. I'll look to God whom anger never touched, and--because I look to Him--I'll experience God's calm goodness.

Amen and amen.

Whether your particular tendency under stress is to go into anger (as it sounds was the case with Hildegard) or anxiety (my own personal challenge), this meditation can help you interrupt the flow of thoughts and bring peace. I just substituted the word "anxiety" for "anger" and felt so peaceful I think I'll float to work this morning.

May you experience a hundred joyful things today. It's all God!

Oh, the Grand Inelegance of It All...

This poem arrived this morning in Writer's Almanac and it fit so perfectly with things I've been thinking about lately that I had to post it. (Plus it made me laugh.) I am so thankful that God delightedly accepts whatever inelegant, pieced-together, lopsided creations we offer him throughout the day and sees only pure love, radiance, hope, and the faithful heart of the innocense in which they're offered:


Naming the Animals
by Anthony Hecht

Having commanded Adam to bestow
Names upon all the creatures, God withdrew
To empyrean palaces of blue
That warm and windless morning long ago,
And seemed to take no notice of the vexed
Look on the young man's face as he took thought
Of all the miracles the Lord had wrought
Now to be labeled, dubbed, yclept, indexed.

Before an addled mind and puddle brow,
The feathered nation and the finny prey
Passed by; there went biped and quadruped.
Adam looked forth with bottomless dismay
Into the tragic eyes of his first cow,
And shyly ventured, "Thou shalt be called 'Fred.'"

"Naming the Animals" by Anthony Hecht, from Collected Later Poems. © Alfred A Knopf, 2003.

Happy, Shining People

Here is one of the many reasons why I love Thomas Merton:

In Louisville, on a corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of a shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I was theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers...I have the immense joy of being human, a member of a race in which God himself became incarnate. As if the sorrows and stupidities of the human condition could overwhelm me, now that I realize what we all are. If only everybody could realize this! But it cannot be explained. There is no way of telling people that they are all walking around Shining like the Sun!

[The bold is his emphasis, not mine.]

And today is Anne Frank's birthday, so here is a connecting quote from her journal. The Writer's Almanac says that Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl is the second best-selling nonfiction book in history. Only the Bible is ahead of her book in sales. Wow!

Everyone has inside of him a piece of good news. The good news is that you don't know how great you can be! How much you can love!

Be blessed today, aware that you carry the good news of love incarnate, shining out through your every thought and act!

For Those Waiting Times...

From today's Writer's Almanac. Perfect.

Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale

by Dan Albergotti

Measure the walls. Count the ribs. Notch the long days.
Look up for blue sky through the spout. Make small fires
with the broken hulls of fishing boats. Practice smoke signals.
Call old friends, and listen for echoes of distant voices.
Organize your calendar. Dream of the beach. Look each way
for the dim glow of light. Work on your reports. Review
each of your life's ten million choices. Endure moments
of self-loathing. Find the evidence of those before you.
Destroy it. Try to be very quiet, and listen for the sound
of gears and moving water. Listen for the sound of your heart.
Be thankful that you are here, swallowed with all hope,
where you can rest and wait. Be nostalgic. Think of all
the things you did and could have done. Remember
treading water in the center of the still night sea, your toes
pointing again and again down, down into the black depths.

"Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale" by Dan Albergotti from The Boatloads.© BOA Editions, Ltd., 2008.

Give Mom a Peaceful Day

I found this beautiful site yesterday, just looking for a nice new home page for my browser window. What a great way to start the day! Share it with your mom today if you want to give her a peaceful start to her morning: Peaceful Day.

Happy Mother's Day to our Father-Mother God and to all who shower others with God's qualities of unfailing love, nurturing, tender faithfulness, unflagging support, honesty, and kindness.

What Beautiful Webs We Weave

This morning early I took the dogs out, schlogging through the marshy backyard (it's been raining for two days) and stepping into a sunny spot. The sky was already a deep blue even though the sun was barely up...the trees and grass glowed a brilliant green. Something glinting in the sun at my feet caught my eye--it was a beautiful, perfect, spider web, stretched over the grass, catching the sunlight on its dewey threads. It was breathtaking! The whole web was only 6 inches in diameter, with rings within rings within rights. I stepped carefully and guided the dogs so we wouldn't disturb the spider's miraculous handiwork. Three feet away, I discovered another beautiful sunlit web, the same size, set carefully on the grass to catch the sun.

As I piloted the dogs back toward the house, I suddenly had an image of God taking care not to step on our webs, either--the webs we create that are our worlds for learning. This web has a conflicted relationship; that one, a difficult task; another a health challenge; another one, pure joy. Whatever webs we create in our day, we can know that God gave us the talent to create them and they have an inherent beauty all their own, simply because they are ours, because they have life, and because of the loving and careful One who is noticing and protecting them.

Recap of the Festival of Faith & Writing

I'm back from the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College and wanted to share links for some of the great people I found there. I was really blessed and moved in several of the sessions. Not only did I come away with good and practical new writing ideas, but I was inspired by the heart, spirit, and mind of many creative and gifted writers. I recommend the following people to you, for their presence as much as for their writing and illustration talents:

• Kathleen Norris
  
  
• Michael Chabon
  
  
• Jon Muth
  
  
• Scott Cairns
  
  
• Daniel Taylor

I also met several great editors at a variety of publishing companies--they were approachable, friendly, helpful, smart. Thanks to Lil at Paraclete, Sheryl at Jossey-Bass, Kathleen at Fresh Air (a new imprint launching from Upper Room), and Vinita at Loyola--for their ideas, wisdom, and friendly openness.

If you didn't go this year, start planning your 2010 trip now. :)

Festival of Faith & Writing

This week I'll be attending the Festival of Faith & Writing, held every other year at Calvin College in Michigan. I'm really looking forward to it! I submitted the book proposal for the Conversations book, so we'll see what happens.

If you're going, keep an eye out for me. I'll be the tall brunette with the kitten on my shoulder. :)

This is too beautiful not to post

From the Writer's Almanac, this morning:

Susanna
by Anne Porter

Nobody in the hospital
Could tell the age
Of the old woman who
Was called Susanna

I knew she spoke some English
And that she was an immigrant
Out of a little country
Trampled by armies

Because she had no visitors
I would stop by to see her
But she was always sleeping

All I could do
Was to get out her comb
And carefully untangle
The tangles in her hair

One day I was beside her
When she woke up
Opening small dark eyes
Of a surprising clearness

She looked at me and said
You want to know the truth?
I answered Yes

She said it's something that
My mother told me

There's not a single inch
Of our whole body
That the Lord does not love

She then went back to sleep.

Poem: "Susanna" by Anne Porter, an excerpt from Living Things, published by Zoland Books, an imprint of Steerforth Press of Hanover, New Hampshire. © 2006 Anne Porter. Reprinted with permission.

Sacred Life

The following is a reflection from Martin Buber, in I and Thou. I just love it, so I posted it here. :) Enjoy.

I contemplate a tree.

I can accept it as a picture: a rigid pillar in a flood of light, or splashes of green traversed by the gentleness of blue silver ground.

I can feel it as movement: the flowing veins around the sturdy, striving core, the sucking of the roots, the breathing of the leaves, the infinite commere with earth and air--and the growing itself in its darkness.

I can assign it to a species and observe it as an instance, with an eye to its construction and its way of life.

I can overcome its uniqueness and form so rigorously that I recognize it only as an expression of the law--those laws according to which a constant opposition of forces is continually adjusted, or those laws according to which the elements mix and separate.

I can dissolve it into a number, into a pure relation between numbers, and eternalize it.

Throughout all of this the tree remains my object and has its place and its time span, its kind and condition.

But it can also happen, if will and grace are joined, that a sI contemplate the tree I am drawn into a relation, and the tree ceases to be an It. The power of exclusiveness has seized me.

This does not require me to forego any of the modes of contemplation. There is nothing that I must not see in order to see, and there is no knowledge that I must forget. Rather is everything, picture and movement, species and instance, law and number included and inseparably fused.

Whatever belongs to the tree is included: its form and its mechanics, its colors and its chemistry, its conversation with the elements and its conversation with the stars--all this in its entirety.

The tree is no impression, no play of my imagination, no aspect of a mood; it confronts me bodily and has to deal with me as I must deal with it--only differently.

One should not try to dilute the meaning of the relation: relation is reciprocity.

Does the tree then have consciousness, similar to our own? I have no experience of that. But thinking that you have brought this off in your own case, must you again divide the indivisible? What I encounter is neither the soul of a tree nor a dryad, but the tree itself."

Martin Buber, I and Thou (NY: Touchstone Books) p. 57-59.

Say Thanks, Eve

It occurred to me during my prayer time this morning that Eve would never have been tempted to take that apple if she hadn't felt she was missing out on something. And I know from my own life that when I feel I'm missing out, I'm not feeling grateful for what I already have. That's such a subtle thing--we can slip in and out of ingratitude thousands of times a day. When I am aware of all the huge, continuous, and wonderful (and little, sporadic, and quiet) blessings I receive each day, I don't yearn for fruit that's not mine. I'm happy; I'm content. I love my life, and I can't wait until the next time God strolls through the garden with me so I can share my joy and thanks.

May each of us, as we celebrate Thanksgiving in the U.S. or experience our days around the world, be fully aware and grateful for the truly uncountable gifts we are given on a daily basis. Happy Thanksgiving! I'm grateful for you, reader, that you read these thoughts that I post on this page.

:) Kathy

Conversations and Spirit

Hi again. I've just posted the second set of interview questions for the book I'm researching on conversation. This set of questions relates to community, spirituality, and care of the earth. It should take less than 10 minutes to complete, and I deeply appreciate any comments or stories you'd like to share!

Here's the link: Conversations survey, part 2

Thanks very much for your help! :) k

Want to be interviewed?

Hi! I'm beginning to research a new project on the dynamics and effects of conversation. I've created a simple survey--would you be willing to participate? It shouldn't take more than 5 minutes. All responses are confidential (I don't ask anything scary, anyway) and if I choose to quote you, I'll send you an e-mail message asking your permission first.

Here's the link, and thanks for helping!

Click here to take the Conversation survey

Seed and Surround

It occurred to me this morning, as I was thinking about the big, orange-yellow cosmos that have replanted themselves in a new area of the flower bed, that for all the magic and wonder that a seed contains, it can't grow itself without an environment.

The seed contains all that miraculous oak-in-a-molecule amazement, but it will just sit there, on your desk, quiet and self-contained, and not growing, until you (or somebody, or nature) put it in the moist dirt and cover it safe and snug. The potential for life and growth, and maybe life itself, in some kind of coded, genetic possibility, exists in the seed, but it doesn't take on a sense of real life, growing and changing and pushing up through the soil, until it has an environment that supports it.

This thought is a new one for me, and really powerful. Maybe until we have a supportive environment, an environment that's condusive to our growth--physically, emotionally, spiritually--we are just coded for possibility but not able to manifest it. I see how this has been true for me--so many ideas, so many desires, so many hopes, but few realized the way I envisioned them, maybe because I didn't understand the missing ingredient: an environment supportive to their growth. I can see why the last few years of my life have been about creating a nurturing, honoring, peaceful space. I see how vital that is in a completely new way today. Thanks, God!

Ruth = God with Us

I typed Emmanuel in something I was writing this morning and thought of that word's meaning, "God-with-us." A few minutes later, the story of Ruth and Naomi came to mind, and I thought "Ruth was God's way of being with Naomi." Isn't that a wonderful thought? It wasn't only Jesus who was Emmanuel, or God-with-us. It is each one of us, for someone else. Who is revealing God to you today? Who is lifting your spirits, encouraging you, comforting you, making you laugh, cooking you a meal? Sure, it's your friend, your spouse, your companion, your teacher. But it's also Someone Else: God is with you today, really with you, touching you through the loving acts of others in your life.

On the Road

This morning as I returned from taking Cameron to school I noticed something about myself-as-driver. When I drive, I will choose the road that has beautiful, overhanging trees over the four-lane fast-moving street with fewer traffic lights. I will let people in when I'm waiting in a line, because I hope it will start their day with a little grace. I listen to quiet classical music on the radio (sometimes to Cameron's dismay) because I like to ease into the day, preserving something of the sense of sacred peace that seems to bring in the dawn.

I don't drive slowly, but I don't drive aggressively, either. It's more of a mindfulness.

But not everybody starts the day like I do. Some people are late, some people are rushing, cutting in and out of traffic, honking, leaning forward, edging their front bumper as close to the guy in front as they possibly can. Other people drive 30 miles an hour in a 40 zone, forget to turn on their turn signals, and don't look for opportunities for turn-on-red.

This morning the SUV behind me honked when I didn't turn right fast enough at a red light. With irritation, I wondered why she would want to start anybody else's day like that. What kind of morning had she already had? On the way home, I noticed that although sometimes it can be annoying to be stuck behind someone who is not in a hurry (especially when I'm almost late for a meeting or a class), I would much rather be behind someone slow than be pushed by someone in back of me. As I thought about that, I realized how much I really don't like to be pushed--in traffic, in life, or in faith.

That might be fertile ground for reflection--which is more jangling for you, a slow driver in front or a pushy driver behind?

It could be something to do while you're waiting in traffic later today. And in the meantime, hold on to the idea God's harmony. Maybe we'll all have a smooth-driving afternoon. :)

An early-morning secret

Shhhhhhh.... The crickets are still singing their night songs. The morning glories haven't opened yet. The birds haven't appeared at the feeder for their breakfast.

But God is already busy. Just a few moments ago, as I was taking Cameron to school in the pre-dawn darkness, this thought occurred to me: "Everything that happens today is for my blessing." Every single thing. Nothing left out. Everything.

The person who pulls in front of you in traffic. The red light you tried to miss. The lukewarm coffee. The smiles of your coworker. The frowns of your coworkers. Everything.

Remember, as your morning glories open and the day picks up its pace in your own life, that every single thing that occurs today is for your blessing. And what blesses one, blesses all. How different would our day be if we could remember that? Let's talk this evening and compare notes about this wonderful day that God has made.

"This is the day the Lord has made...I will rejoice and be glad in it." :)

Froglegs

I received this story from Kabbalah.com this morning and just loved it. I can identify! See what you think:

Once upon a time, a tiny frog fell into a giant bowl of cream. Unable to get out, the little fella kept kicking, kicking, kicking until finally the cream turned to butter, and he was able to jump to safety.

This is us. We are the frog. We can either give up hope when faced with impossible challenges, or we can kick, kick, kick until the curses turn to blessings. Rest assured, our Creator wants us to survive our battles, conquer our demons, and no matter how dark life may be, there is always Light at the end of the tunnel. Our challenge is to maintain our certainty and to continue fighting the good fight.

Keep kicking today. Know that there is a solution to whatever it is that threatens to overwhelm you.

Little Moments of Redemption

Forgiveness often does come unexpectedly and hidden inside tiny things--a breath of fresh air, a sense of lightness in a tense relationship, a smile after a long period of frowning, someone letting you in in traffic, a person telling you to go ahead in the checkout line, a lucky break, the benefit of the doubt. Along those lines, I want to pass along this poem that arrived in my Inbox in today's Writer's Almanac:

"Forgiveness" by Terence Winch, from Boy Drinkers. © Hanging Loose Press, 2007.

Forgiveness

Father Cahir kept us holy.
He smoked cigars in the confessional.
He had a distracted air about him,
as though he wasn't sure what
he was supposed to do next.

I don't remember what he taught.
History, probably. It was his
liberal attitude as a confessor
that made him a legend.

No matter what you confessed to,
he always barked out the same penance:
"Three Hail Marys and a Good Act
of Contrition. Next!" So we tested
this leniency, confessing
to rape, murder, burglary.

Cahir paid no attention.
He knew we were a bunch
of high school punks.
Puffing his cigar,
he'd issue his standard
penance and absolve all sins,
real or imagined,
with godlike aloofness,
his vast indifference to
or total acceptance of the darkness
within the human soul
exactly how I hope the deity
regards us. Take forgiveness
any way you can get it.

A Nourishing Resource

For some time now, I've been a subscriber to the Ocean of Dharma quote of the week. (You can sign up by clicking here.) The one I received yesterday was especially powerful. Here it is, in its entirety (thanks to Carolyn Gimiam for the permission to post this quote):

GOSSIP AND EMOTION

Discursive thought might be compared to the blood circulation which constantly feeds the muscles of our system, the emotions. Thoughts link and sustain the emotions so that, as we go about our daily lives, we experience an ongoing flow of mental gossip punctuated by more colorful and intense bursts of emotion. The thoughts and emotions express our basic attitudes toward and ways of relating to the world and form an environment, fantasy realms in which we live....In order to work with these realms, we must begin to view situations in a more panoramic way, which is vipashyana or insight meditation. We must become aware not only of the precise details of an activity, but also of the situation as a whole....We begin to see the pattern of our fantasies rather than being immersed in them. We discover that we need not struggle with our projections, that the wall that separates us from them is our own creation.

From "The Bodhisattva Path," in CUTTING THROUGH SPIRITUAL MATERIALISM, pages 168 to 169.

All material by Chogyam Trungpa is copyright Diana J. Mukpo and used by permission.

I've been working with ideas about the power of thought and the fuel of emotion for a while now, and this quote makes some connections for me that feel profound. I hope it's helpful to you, too. :)

Great Bumper Sticker

This afternoon when I picked Cameron up from school, I saw an SUV with this bumper sticker.
Awesome. Here's the link, in case you want to get one. :)

Behind the News

It's funny how one idea builds on another. Perhaps partly because of the change of my language and perspective from "poor" to "blessed" (see yesterday's post) and also in light of the "look behind the fear" idea (click here to read that post), today I am listening to the news differently. By listening in this way, I know what to pray for, what to affirm. Let me give you an example.

People (myself included) will go on and on about the negativity in our news. Turn on a news show in the evenings and you fill your family room with stories of defaulted loans, property taxes, abandoned children, war, joblessness, violence. Turn on the radio and you hear about struggles--battles, injustices, exploitation, dishonesty--all over the world. In recent months, I have intentionally filtered the input I allow from the constantly droning (and ratings-seeking) news channels.

But today it occurred to me to look behind the news. What makes news, news? Why are we talking about all these various (and often awful) things? Something interesting occurred to me. It comes clear when you look at what the story points to.

The story about an abandoned baby is really about the loving way we want to care for our children. It's news because our natural sense of caring tenderly for the smallest among us was violated.

Push through the story about the war and you find our desire for peace. It's news because real lives are being impacted and lost, and we care about those lives.

Look beyond the story about the corrupt CEO and you see that we have a built-in expectation of integrity. It's news because we expect people in power to be trustworthy and truly care for those they lead.

Move into the story of the trapped miners and find your belief that none of us is ever lost, separated, or beyond the reach of God.

Stories about global warming aren't about our abuses of the planet--they are about how much we love the earth and each other, present and future.

Behind each story, if you look, you will see the perfect value it is lifting up. Which values are being violated? Love, connection, harmony, peace, integrity, responsibility? Which stories do you turn away from the quickest? Chances are they point to something you can't reconcile within yourself, because you are a living example otherwise.

It's at that point, I think, that we need to pray. When you feel sick about a news story, don't look away--look behind it to the value that seems to be under attack. Affirm that the value is really there--otherwise, you wouldn't feel the hurt, outrage, anger, frustration. The value is there within you, and you can use it to bring light to the world. When there appears to be hate, look through it and affirm love. When there seems to be exploitation, see that integrity is there or you wouldn't feel the way you do. When you are frustrated by dishonesty or game playing, remember that you are feeling your own natural draw toward truth.

And who knows? Maybe with this kind of news watching, ratings would actually go up, and eventually there would be less news to report!

[Added note] One clarification, though--I'm not saying that the people, places, and circumstances that are the subject of the news stories don't need our prayers, because they do. We want healing, wholeness, peace, comfort for all who need it. But by putting our conscious attention on the value behind the story, we can help make it more visible. And thus "poor" becomes "blessed."

The Shaping Power of Language

I have always had a tender heart for animals. As a child, I cried when I left wooly worms behind on the path, I cried when I watched Lassie (my mother would try to keep me from watching it and then hear me sobbing from under the desk in the living room as Lassie waved her paw at the end of the show), I agonized over leaving my stuffed animals when I went to a friend's house for a sleepover.

Okay, you guessed it. I was an odd child.

But the other day, 40-some years later, I had a little epiphany about it. I looked outside and thought, "Poor flowers--look how hot it is and how much they need a drink." Later, I thought, "Poor birds--they need fresh water in the bird bath."

And then I became curious about the language I was using in my head. Where did that "poor" come from? Why do I feel bad for everything, concerned for its welfare, sure that it is suffering in some way from the natural elements? Maybe the flowers are simply a bit too warm--just like we get--in the late afternoon sun? Perhaps the birds are on their way to a little lake somewhere else, not dependent on the bird bath in my backyard as their only source of fresh water.

What would happen to my language, my feelings, and my expectations of the world (and God's provision for it) if I stopped putting that word "Poor..." in front of everything? What if I substituted the word "Blessed" instead?

"Look at that blessed little bird...free to fly with other birds, alive on this gorgeous day, able to sing and bring joy to others!"

"Wow, what blessed flowers. How did they get so tall? And what radiant faces they have, especially in the morning and evening, in the cooler part of the day. (And aren't they lucky to have me to care for them? And aren't I lucky to have them to bring such beauty to my day?)"

I am going to become more aware of my use of the word "poor." What in God's creation can be poor? How can we be cut off from God's abundance? Whether we--in this moment, and then this one, and then this one--are the receiving or the giving heart, we are all part of God's ever-present harmony. I wonder whether we can make more blessing visible in this world if we look out through eyes trained to see the good that's already here.

Whole Gratitude

This morning I woke up thinking about gratitude. Like a gazillion other people, I watched The Secret, and interesting bits of the video bubble up at different times. Today the thought was about what one of the men said about gratitude--he wakes up every morning, and as he brushes his teeth, he goes through all the things he's grateful for. He made sure to say that it's not just some mental list; he really feels the feeling of gratitude.

This morning as I got out of bed, I went through the things I'm grateful for--a peaceful beautiful morning, new thick carpet (nice!), a good night's sleep, a loving family, work I enjoy, a beautiful home, health...

And then it occurred to me that I was making a mental list. I was trying to bring to mind everything I could that I was grateful for. I probably could have come up with a thousand different things. But I wasn't feeling it, I was thinking it. A mental list. An intellectual exercise. Suddenly I had an image of my prayers getting no higher than the ceiling.

Okay, I thought. The list is fine. But how about feeling gratitude for those things too? I imagined the first few things on the list, and asked for a little help in feeling a whole sense of gratitude. Instantly, I felt a wonderful sense of warmth and openness spreading through me--especially my chest and stomach. A kind of deep relaxing. I think I was experiencing something close to real, whole gratitude--not just a mental image of things I am grateful for.

It's a profound difference. Maybe you already know about it. But I'm so glad to have a way to say thank you with my whole self!

So, thank you for reading this. And when I say "Thank you," I mean "T-h-a-n-k y-o-u" in the wholest possible way. :)

Always There

This morning at 6:00am I was out driving through thick fog to take my son to his job at a local golf course. As I drove through the gray mist, a litany of regretful thoughts came to mind--past behaviors and choices I'd rather forget. Quickly realizing I didn't want to fill my head with those kinds of thoughts, I began thinking of God--God's love, God's reality, God's belief in us. Instantly my thoughts changed. I was surprised that instead of just seeing a mental door closing on those thoughts, in my mind's eye I saw them transform as light was added to the picture. That light was God. Suddenly I realized that God was there in all those moments, loving me.

I've heard that God sees only good in us--He is too pure to see evil (see Habakkuk 1:13.) It makes me wonder, does God still see us as walking in the Garden with Him? He made clothes for us when he realized our error (such a sad, tender moment in Genesis 3:21), and we seem to have "moved out" into a separate existence, pouring ourselves into our lives, our choices, our involvements, our interests. But maybe we're still really--in Spirit--in the Garden, walking and talking with Him, enjoying His companionship.

I have a real world analogy. I have two teenage sons and they enjoy playing their favorite video games together. When they are playing, they are totally absorbed in the game. I can come and go from the room and they may or may not notice. While they are playing, they make choices, create worlds, fight evil, or try to master a challenge. I don't really understand the games, even though I can watch them play whenever I want to. I'm just back here, loving them, making sure they have what they need. Whatever they do in the game, it doesn't affect how I love them, know them, and see them.

Do you think God feels that way about us, as we go about our daily lives? We follow our interests, create challenges, manifest beauty, struggle, live. Perhaps God, instead of focusing on the game we play, is simple shining love, life, truth, wholeness, and beauty on and through us in every moment. Right there, behind that easy chair. Right now, beside you on the couch. This instant, inside the whisper of that thought that just flashed through your mind.

Enjoy your day today, knowing that God's Light looks over your shoulder and out through your eyes, loving you, trusting you, believing the best about you. When things get stressful or challenging, remember that you have an immediate and continual pass back into the Garden, if you're willing to put down that game controller for even the slightest instant. :)

Think Beauty

Good News Associates, an independent nonprofit ministry organization that supports people in non-traditional ministry roles, published this thoughtful article on beauty in its current newsletter. It's worth printing and rereading. And maybe a week long beauty meditation? Who's in? :)

Free in Spirit

What do you think those early days in the Garden were like, hanging around in paradise, having everything you needed to live joyfully, abundantly, peacefully? You had a companion to explore with, to cuddle with, to name things with. Together you enjoyed each day to its fullest point of bliss. And of course at some point each day, the most loving presence in the universe would come to personally walk, talk, and laugh with you.

What more could you want?

That's what I think of when I envision true freedom--freedom of the spirit, freedom from judgment, labels, restrictions, shoulds. The spirit still walks and talks and laughs with God. The spirit still enjoys the music of true communion. The spirit knows nothing about any casting out, covering up, or blaming of serpents.

Enjoy your gardening today! :)

Footholds of the Past

This morning in Indiana there is so much moisture in the air that a kind of mystical haze surrounds everything. After almost two weeks of bright, white heat, the soft, muffled morning feels like what I imagine it must be to discover an oasis, somewhere far out in a desert on the other side of the world.

I noticed a couple of days ago that one of the clematis vines that winds its way along the front porch had gone brown. This morning I decided to clip it back to give the green vines more room to grow. But when I took my shears out and started looking for a clean place to cut, I noticed that the other vines were curling their tiny green tendrils around it, using it as a foundation from which to reach a little higher. I tried snipping a few small places, thinking if I cut in a strategic place, the whole vine would just come out with a gentle tug. After a few attempts, I realized that wasn't happening. The old vine had become part of the growing of the living vine. The structure was real. The investment was forever. The old and the new were twined together inseparably.

I looked at that vine and saw in myself my own tendency to want to weed out the "bad stuff"--the mistakes, the errors, the plain old-fashioned bad choices I'd made in my life. I'd just as soon clip them back and put them in the compost bin, where they can become food for better things. But it does ring true that all the experiences we have, however we name them, serve as a foundation for our current life, whether they have sap flowing through their veins or not. They become a foundation we lean on, maybe unknowingly, as we reach higher. We might not want to make those same choices or have more experiences like those again, and it's probably worth considering why the vine went brown (so perhaps we can avoid making the same mistake in the future), but seeing the value of it all wrapped up together like that was comforting to me this morning.

Something to Give

I've been working with the idea of abundance for a long time. My own financial situation, as a self-employed writer, has fluxuated over the years. Sometimes things felt stable and secure, sometimes not. Whether my barns were full or empty, though, I did learn in a very real way that God was there throughout, trustworthy, faithful, helping.

Here in Indiana everything went from the brown of winter to vibrant green spring almost in a single day. I marveled at the green green grass and the full leaves on the trees--it all happened so suddenly! Surely this is God's abundance at work, I thought. I prayed to understand that sense of constant, instant, always available supply so that I could know once and for all my financial needs were met in God--no two ways about it. I really wanted that certainty.

A little while ago I read this article over on Spirituality.com. The author talks about how he felt when he lost his job and couldn't get any traction. He struggled with fear and was stretching a pot of soup to last a whole week so he wouldn't go hungry. When his thinking began to change, it all started with the thought, "I have something to give." That's a powerful thought when you feel yourself being backed further and further into a corner. Giving has been a part of my life for a long time, but when I'm being really honest with myself I know that my giving had a lot to do with getting. I gave money to the church because God said to and I was afraid not to! I gave extra effort for my clients because I hoped they would want to work with me again. I always went the extra mile, did more than was asked, was as good as possible--but the effort came from fear (lack) in the hopes that it would earn the love, care, and supply God already provides simply because that's God's nature! I didn't realize that last part, and I didn't know I was giving to get.

In the article, the writer talks about discovering what he already had to give--ways in which he could give out of his own abundance. You may not have a lot of money, or time, or special talent. But you already have abundance somewhere in your life. The world needs your gifts. Your family needs your gifts. God needs your gifts. What do you have to give to the world? It may be something simple, like appreciation of beauty or your time and attention. But whatever you have to give, you can be sure that it fits perfectly a need that someone else has.

Because I love these kinds of object lessons, I sat down with my journal and wrote "I have something to give" at the top. Then I began to list all the things that occurred to me as things I can give from my own abundance. And you know what? "Money" didn't appear until #24 on the list! This really made me feel good about what I have to offer the world from the abundance that exists within me right now.

Try it--you'll be amazed! And then drop me a note and share some of your abundance of insight. :)

Saved

I loved this poem...it describes the very real, flesh-and-blood way I think salvation works on this planet. See God in someone today, no matter what their words and actions show you, and you will be participating in the on-going sacred movement of saving grace!

Poem: "Mrs. Kirkorian" by Sharon Olds, from Strike Sparks: Selected Poems, 1980-2002. © Alfred A Knopf, 2004. From Writer's Almanac.

Mrs. Kirkorian

She saved me. When I arrived in 6th grade,
a known criminal, the new teacher
asked me to stay after school the first day, she said
I've heard about you. She was a tall woman,
with a deep crevice between her breasts,
and a large, calm nose. She said,
This is a special library pass.
As soon as you finish your hour's work—
that hour's work that took ten minutes
and then the devil glanced into the room
and found me empty, a house standing open—
you can go to the library. Every hour
I'd zip through the work in a dash and slip out of my
seat as if out of God's side and sail
down to the library, solo through the empty
powerful halls, flash my pass
and stroll over to the dictionary
to look up the most interesting word
I knew, spank, dipping two fingers
into the jar of library paste to
suck that tart mucilage as I
came to the page with the cocker spaniel's
silks curling up like the fine steam of the body.
After spank, and breast, I'd move on
to Abe Lincoln and Helen Keller,
safe in their goodness till the bell, thanks
to Mrs. Kirkorian, amiable giantess
with the kind eyes. When she asked me to write
a play, and direct it, and it was a flop, and I
hid in the coat-closet, she brought me a candy-cane
as you lay a peppermint on the tongue, and the worm
will come up out of the bowel to get it.
And so I was emptied of Lucifer
and filled with school glue and eros and
Amelia Earhart, saved by Mrs. Kirkorian.
And who had saved Mrs. Kirkorian?
When the Turks came across Armenia, who
slid her into the belly of a quilt, who
locked her in a chest, who mailed her to America?
And that one, who saved her, and that one—
who saved her, to save the one
who saved Mrs. Kirkorian, who was
standing there on the sill of 6th grade, a
wide-hipped angel, smokey hair
standing up weightless all around her head?
I end up owing my soul to so many,
to the Armenian nation, one more soul someone
jammed behind a stove, drove
deep into a crack in a wall,
shoved under a bed. I would wake
up, in the morning, under my bed—not
knowing how I had got there—and lie
in the dusk, the dustballs beside my face
round and ashen, shining slightly
with the eerie comfort of what is neither good nor evil.

Beyond Fear

This morning I grabbed a little notebook out of my desk drawer so I could make a list, and I found this written on the top page:

Look behind the fear and you'll find a dream.

I must have seen this before--and thought it before--because it's in my handwriting. But this morning it hit me with all the import of a major epiphany.

Look behind the fear and you'll find a dream.

I tried this out with some of the fears I'm struggling with right now. My work has been shifting--a couple of big projects are finishing up and I'm not completely sure what's coming. What's the fear? Financial instability. What's the dream? Financial freedom--the freedom to create from a sense of complete, secure joy.

That's a pretty good dream, I thought.

Another fear that's jangling around in the back of my head and using up energy is that I won't be able to really get Starlight Books off the ground. What's the dream? A thriving, family-based children's publishing company that specializes in top-quality books that that promote tender love and care of the earth and all beings in it. We will bless and be blessed by everyone who works with us and create the kind of books that become family favorites through the generations.

That's a really good dream, I thought.

Take a look at one of your fears today. What is the dream that is behind it? Safety, love and companionship, radiant health, financial freedom? The dream is where you want to put your energy, so once you see that dream, hold on to it and affirm it. And know that I'm out here, doing it too.

And where two or three are gathered, you know... :)

For Every Mother's Heart

For every mother's heart, dear God, bring peace and certainty of Your care,
In every father's hands, O Lord, place a healing vision and the will to see it through,
In every child's spirit, precious Father, preserve the innocent expectation of joy
and the knowing beyond knowing
that You are here
that You meet us tenderly in our broken places
that You are the source of all Good
and that as your children,
that Good is ours to claim.
Amen.

One-Word Prayers

Last week I wrote about finding an article tucked away in my great-grandmother's book that offered a series of readings for whatever might be troubling you. I ordered Henry Drummond's The Greatest Thing in the World and read it last weekend. It's really wonderful. Clear. Loving. Uplifting.

Always true to my student nature , I took notes and made lists and worked with all the ideas. But a sweet little inspiration keeps swirling around my head. And it's that instead of intellectualizing everything (which I am prone to do), to breathe the life of the offering in and exhale it out. So here's a list of simple, beautiful, elegant, life-packed one-word prayers, inspired by Henry's book. Choose the one you need today, and breathe it in whenever you need it--in traffic, in the checkout line, when the neighbor's dog won't stop barking, when you're out of sorts. Breathe it in and really feel it, and then let yourself exhale, feeling your connection with All That Is. :)

Patience.

Kindness.

Generosity.

Humility.

Courtesy.

Unselfishness.

Guilelessness.

Sincerity.


Amen.

Ageless Wisdom

Just a few minutes ago I was looking for something in a box on the top of my office shelf, and I found an unexpected blessing: books of my great-grandmother's, from the early 1900s. Tucked inside a frayed and tattered 1908 copy of Mary Baker-Eddy's Science & Health, I found this article clipping:

"Business Woman" Has a Cure for Every Ill
To The Star: If you have the blues, read the twenty-seventh Psalm.
If your pocketbook is empty, read the thirty-seventh Psalm.
If people seem unkind, read the fifteenth chapter of John.
If you are discouraged about your work, read the one hundred twenty-sixth Psalm.
If you are all out of sorts, read the twelfth chapter of Hebrews.
If you cannot have your own way in everything, keep silent and read the third chapter of James.
If you are losing confidence in men, read the thirteenth chapter of First Corinthians. Sir Henry Drummond's "The Greatest Thing in the World" was taken from this chapter, and if "Experience" will read this little book in connection with her Bible I am sure it will change her whole life as it did mine. She will find it a heart mender.

--BUSINESS WOMAN

Thanks, Grandma Roos. You listened to your heart and clipped this out 90+ years ago, and it blessed me (and us) today. :) k

Manifesting Abundance

I awoke this morning thinking about the way in which God creates. He didn't sweat and struggle, push and labor. He simply spoke, "Let there be..." (A wonderful woman writer whose name escapes me now once said, "Whenever we say, 'Let there be...." something happens.")

I thought about how much I sweat and struggle, push and labor, in order to bring something about. I think the only reason it is hard for me is that I believe it will be, has to be, hard. It was there in my definition of How Life Works.

But as I drove Cameron to school this morning, I was very aware of all the colors around me. I had a thought: These colors are always present. The light reflecting off the objects that appear to have color really contains all the hues available in the universe. Wow.

Then the classical station I listen to began playing Aaron Copeland's "Hoedown" (you might recognize this as the amazing, high-energy melody from the 'What's for Dinner?' commercial a few years back). I thought, What an amazing piece of music! The notes are already present, and the composer lifted them up, selecting and arranging them and bringing them to our consciousness. That was another Wow moment.

What kind of day do we want to create today? Do we want joy, harmony, happiness, productivity, abundance? All those qualities are already here, within our grasp, in the air and ideas we swim in every day. We simply need to choose what we want, say "Let there be..." and give thanks like crazy as things begin to take shape.

It's all already here! Thanks, God. You thought of Everything.

Beautifully Said

I ran across this quote from Karen Casey this morning and wanted to share it with you:

Two persons love in one another the future good, which they aid one another to unfold.--Margaret Fuller

We can see the potential for growth in friends we love, a reality that often lies hidden to them. Through our encouragement and our commitment to them, we can help them tackle the barriers to success. Likewise, we'll be helped. It's within the plan, ours and theirs, that we're traveling this road together.

Dealing with Difficult People

I discovered a helpful prayer this week when I found myself dreading interacting with someone who "pushed my buttons." I noticed that my thoughts were going along the lines of, "Oh, I wish I didn't have to deal with him/her...I would like to bypass this part of things altogether...I wish he/she wouldn't be so pushy!"

When I realized that I was investing my thought energy in creating more of an obstacle with this person, I turned to God. My simple prayer was, "God, please teach me how you want me to relate to this person." And then I let it go.

Wonder of wonders, the whole situation resolved so well we were happy and in tune with each other by week's end. No kidding! It was a simple, powerful, prayer--and it worked miraculously. :)

We're All Alchemists

Yesterday morning I heard an amazing story on NPR by Judy Woodruff, "Experiencing Other Faiths to Find One's Own." The story was about a 21-year-old college student who traveled around the globe to experience other peoples' faith traditions. The story is insightful and timely--and gives me so much hope for this generation! Here's a clip:

"Siple calls herself a Christian pluralist, open to the possibility of the validity of other religious traditions.

After her tour of Asia, she spent a week at the Taize monastery in France, a place that attracts young people from around the world. In a Taize service, there is chanting and reading from scripture. But there are also long moments where more than 1,000 young adults sit quietly together in silence — not being told what to do.

"You do what you feel is right for your religious practice," Siple says. "I think that is what our generation is screaming for right now. People want not to be told what they should do, but to figure it out for themselves."

It occurred to me as I listened to her sweet voice on the radio that we are each alchemists of our own souls; we each experience God in our own unique way. We take those experiences, mix them with understanding, questions, wonder, hope, doubt, and trust, and ultimately create something completely unique and wonderful that we give back to life, in our own words and our own way. What a miracle!

Rediscovering Taoism

Years and years (and years) ago I read The Tao of Pooh and loved it. I realized that deep at heart, I do believe in a basic harmony at work in and through all creation. From that belief in harmony, many other beliefs spring--the belief in the inherent goodness of creation; the belief that our natural tendency is toward healing and growth (like flowers to the sun); the belief that calmness, quietness, and trust bring you to resolution much faster than struggle, resistance, and conflict.

Although the formal study of Taoism (or Daoism) is an ancient practice with roots both in Confucianism and Buddhism (Confucianism was first), I don't believe it has to be inconsistent with a 21st century practice that involves the basis of Christianity as well. If Taoism is the basic harmony and intelligence in which all being and nonbeing exists, Christ consciousness--whether you welcome that in the person of the Christ or as a spirit of transcendent communion--is the essence that delivers man from himself, freeing him from the restrictive world he creates before he recognizes his oneness with all being. (See Jung and A Course in Miracles for more about that.) That Oneness, to me, is being in God--our wholeness, where all are in and noone and nothing is out. God also has a persona to me--a real being--but on some level that "knowing" I experience when I am in God's presence is more like someone speaking in your language so you understand they are there and they care about you. The reality of their being goes far, far beyond those few words they speak in your language and in your presence. But the effort is made and the message is received, and the presence of the Christ consciousness within stays with us always, helping us recognizing the harmony (Tao) when we can get quiet enough to let it arise.

Energy in Action

As a student of faith everywhere I find it, I have recently signed up for a daily post from Yehuda Berg, at the Kabbalah Centre. I became familiar with Kabbalah years ago when I read the book Seeing God by Rabbi David Aaron and I found that many of the principles of Kabbalah connect with taoist, Quaker, and mystical ideas.

This morning's note was particularly pertinent here at the end of 2006:

The Kabbalists say that a person whose strength is in his words and not in his actions will always be caught in the world of extremes. That's why it is so important to walk the walk, and not just talk the talk. And we all do it, to an extent.
Focus on action today. What have you been procrastinating on? What are you "trying" to do? Don't try. Just do. You'll be much happier this way.

What loose ends can you wrap up before the end of 2006? I'm going to make my list now...no, scratch that, I'm not going to write the list, I'm just going to get them done. :) Happy New Year!

Gifts & Giving

Before the boys woke up on Christmas morning, I sat in the big chair in the living room and enjoyed the glow of the lights on the tree, in the windows, and on the banisters. All was peace. My mind gradually settled on the presents. On Christmas Eve, my oldest son had wondered aloud where the tradition of "wrapping gifts in silly paper" came from. This morning, as I looked over the gifts, I remembered the story of the three wise men and the gifts they brought to the Christ child.

I thought there may be a connection between the gifts the magi brought to the baby in the manger and the gifts we give to those we love. Whether we recognize it or not, when we give a present to someone, we are giving our best, wrapped in our love and hope for their happiness, to the best in another. We've been thinking of them, their interests, their hopes, their dreams, their desires. What we give them lifts them up, affirms their talents, or brings them joy (or perhaps gives them comfort, warmth, or freedom from care).

In the Quaker tradition, we talk about the divine spirit within each living person and creature. The gifts we give each other could be, like the gifts of the magi, a living demonstration of the love we bring to others who--thank God--are walking the earth with us at this time.

I hope wherever you find yourself this holiday season, and whatever your own tradition of celebration for the birth of hope and reconciliation may be, you experience the peace, connectedness, and divine joy that exist in this very moment. :)

An Eve Moment

This weekend I was given both a kind of "dark night of the soul" experience and the light that came as a result. On Saturday night I went to hear my oldest son perform with his college jazz band. The venue was a small, dark, intimate jazz supper club. I was a bit nervous about it because, as a single person, I thought I would be highly aware of my "aloneness"--especially with Christopher's dad, his wife, and their friends eating together at a table not far away.

The music was wonderful, filling, lifting, energizing. I loved every minute of it. And yet I was acutely aware of the empty seats at my table, heightened by the fact that everyone else (as far as I had the courage to look) seemed to have others sitting with them--family members, friends, lovers, spouses.

I sat alone. At the break, Christopher and his girlfriend came and sat at the table and we talked a bit. Then they returned to the stage.

On the way home, I talked to my daughter on the phone. I told her how great the music had been. She asked, "Was it okay, going by yourself?" "It wasn't bad," I said.

But I came home to what felt like an empty house (although in reality I had my dogs, cats, and turtle to welcome me). And I looked at my beautiful Christmas tree and the lights spiraling up the stairs. And my heart ached as loneliness washed over me. I sat down and cried.

Yesterday my daughter and I scurried out in the early morning to try to get one of the late-release Wiis we'd heard a rumor about (we didn't get one, but we got close enough to see the people who got one!). Then in the afternoon I braved the mall and had a wonderful time finishing up my Christmas shopping. I cared for my grandbaby in the evening while her mama and papa went to a company Christmas party. And both boys were home--Christopher came home for Christmas break from college--and they were upstairs hooting and hollering as they played Xbox 360 games.

I put on the soundtrack to the movie Elf and made Christmas cookies. I was happy. I was singing in the kitchen as I figured out the new cookie press. Life was good again.

It occurred to me late last night that when I was feeling such a riping pain about being alone, I wasn't focused on what's real in my life. I was looking in the shadows for what I didn't have rather than opening my eyes in the light to see the very real blessings all around me. For that dark night in that dark jazz club, I allowed myself to believe in Lack. And you know what? It hurts!

It strikes me that I was reliving the moment in the Garden of Eden, when Eve believed the serpent when he told her she was missing something. Eat this, he said, and you'll have the knowledge God has. Eve thought there was something being withheld from her. She believed it was possible that there was something she lacked. And so she reached out, took a bite, and sought to fix the problem herself.

Not only did that solidify her belief in the possibility that she lacked something; she passed that belief along to Adam. And their own focus on lack caused them to hold back from God when he came for his daily happy stroll in the garden. They hid; they withdrew; they created the illusion of lack in their relationship with God.

If Eve had been completely happy with things as they were in the garden--if she's truly appreciated everything God had given her (and trusted God to reveal anything else needed at just the right time)--that story might have had a different ending.

For my part, this morning I'm very aware of the abundance around me. Life is good. I have companionship, and comfort, and peace, and joy. All along, all I needed were the eyes to see it, the ears to hear it, and the heart willing to fully, abundantly, receive.

Merry Christmas to you and yours--and may the grace and joy of God enfold everyone in the world in an embrace of peace.

Dayienu: “It is enough”

This beautiful poem arrived in my Writers' Almanac newsletter this morning:

Poem: "Just One God" by Deborah Cummins, from Counting the Waves. © Word Press. Reprinted with permission.



Just One God


                              after Wesley McNair

And so many of us.

How can we expect Him

to keep track of which voice

goes with what request.

Words work their way skyward.

Oh Lord, followed by petition —

for a cure, the safe landing.

For what is lost, missing —

a spouse, a job, the final game.

Complaint cloaked as need —

the faster car, porcelain teeth.

That so many entreaties

go unanswered

may say less about our lamentable

inability to be heard

than our inherent flawed condition.



Why else, at birth, the first sound

we make, that full-throttled cry?

Of want, want, want.

Of never enough. Desire

as embedded in us as the ancestral tug

in my unconscienced dog who takes

to the woods, nose to the ground, pulled far

from domesticated hearth, bowl of kibble.

Left behind, I go about my superior business,

my daily ritual I could call prayer.



But look, this morning, in my kitchen,

I'm not asking for more of anything.

My husband slices bread,

hums a tune from our past.

Eggs spatter in a skillet.

Wands of lilac I stuck in a glass

by the open window wobble

in a radiant and — dare I say it? —

merciful light.

Great Givers

I've read God Calling as part of my morning routine for years and years. This morning the message really seemed to jump off the page at me. The reminder was to give of ourselves--our prayers, our time, our thoughts, our presence, our love--before we ever get out our checkbooks to buy a gift. It is so easy to rush out and find a nice sweater, candle, CD, or gadget, wrap it in pretty paper, and wait excitedly for a loved one to open it on Christmas morning. But when we begin to stress about how "little" we have to give, we can think of all the real gifts behind the material, hold-in-your-hands one. We can pray for the happiness, protection, security, and growth of the person--that's a gift. We can call them on the phone and share a little of our time with them. That's a gift. We can spend a little time thinking about them and remembering all loving things they've done and being grateful for their presence in our lives. That's a gift. And we can open our hearts and meditate on the preciousness of that person to us, which I believe adds more light to the world that everybody feels. That's a profound gift.

And when we receive in this same spirit, a new understanding emerges. Unwrapping something on Christmas morning is a joy, but maybe what we're really hoping for is some token that it matters to that person that we're on the earth; that we're loved; that we are connected and wanted and valued; that some other human being understands (or wants to understand) us. That might be a lot to expect from a scarf or a tie. But when we open our hearts and minds to receive everything that goes along with that gift--prayer, time, thought, presence, and love--we can truly know how blessed we are. And then we can continue to give from that richness.

This year may our holidays--Christmas, Chanukkah, Kwanzaa, or a celebration of our own creation--be blessed with an abundant understanding of what giving really means.