illumination

She did not cry, "I cannot,
I am not worthy,"
nor "I have not the strength."
She did not submit with gritted teeth, raging, coerced.
Bravest of all humans,
consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light, the lily glowed in it,
and the iridescent wings.

Consent,
courage unparalleled,
opened her utterly.

--Denise Levertov

There are multiple layers to this post--as always there are--and time for writing is in short supply this morning. I hope you will visit Abbey of the Arts where you will see an invitation to poetry as well as a brief and beautiful explanation of what this day represents (The Feast of the Immaculate Conception and the Enlightenment of Buddha.) In addition, she speaks of the amazing retreat of which I was a part. Words? Where can I begin?

Here is my own photo as well as the line from this poem that was highlighted in my journal from a few days ago. I believe it speaks volumes.

"Consent illumined her."

May you find this season of Advent filled with your own illumination and "yes" to the sacred in your life! Peace.

First Moment of Dawn

"There's a sun in every person--the you we call companion." --Rumi

Sometimes it is hard to know where the beginning of the thread is. Or maybe it is more like tiny pieces in a mosaic that look indistinguishable until you stand back and see the picture as a whole. Barbara used the metaphor of a movie to comment on my last post:

"We don't see the big picture. We each only play a bit part in that movie, but one that is key to the movie's completion."

And so the thread continues and more thoughts bubble around in the stew. This happened when I read Mind Sieve's reflections on Veteran's Day. It is a moving post and well worth taking the time to read. It was the last line that has stayed with me:

"Should we look away and save our hurt at the loss of others while our families remain safe....or should we watch and realize that their losses are our losses as well?"

It is my belief that once we begin to look into the eyes of another as though they are our own, we cannot look away...unless, of course, that is how we treat ourselves. Do you look away from your own hurt and suffering? Or do you choose to enter the suffering, so that it can begin to heal? Again, I believe that our threads cannot be unentwined. Our piece of the mosaic is not easily distinguished. We never know how our bit part may affect the outcome of the great movie.

So, in closing, I would like to leave you with this parable to consider. It is from the Talmud and I ran across it this morning in The Book of Awakening.

A Rabbi asks his students, "How do you know the first moment of dawn has arrived?" After a great silence, one pipes up, "When you can tell the difference between a sheep and a dog." The Rabbi shakes his head no. Another offers, "When you can tell the difference between a fig tree and an olive tree." Again, the Rabbi shakes his head no. There are no other answers. The Rabbi circles their silence and walks between them, "You know the first moment of dawn has arrived when you look into the eyes of another human being and see yourself."

Blessings to you this day. May you see yourself in the eyes of another. May you experience the first moment of dawn.

"face of sagada" found here
"dawn" by lucy

a thinning veil

this weekend has been one of both beautiful and still celebration as well as deep sadness and grief. sometimes i wonder how i put one foot in front of the other and other times the joy grips me and i am overcome with delight.

one of this weekend's blessings came in the form of this picture of my mother. it was sent to me by my sister and to my knowledge i had never seen it before. there is something about the photograph and the caption that my sister wrote, "she just wants to be a little girl," that has brought me a sense of peace and connection with my mother that i have not felt for quite some time.

mother died almost 5 years ago and mentally left several before as her mind was taken over by the dreaded alzheimer's. this weekend as i have spent time near my little altar, it has felt like the veil between 'here and there' has indeed been thin. something about this weekend reminded me of these words from richard rohr's daily devotion:

"surrender is something that is done to us.

you can't pick ahead of time which dragon you'll slay. the opportunity always sneaks up on you, and then all you can do is be ready."

am i ready? who knows? i think that is all i can share for now. it may or may not make sense to you readers. i am not totally sure it makes sense to me, but i do know that i wanted and needed to further mark this honoring of ancestors and the beginning of a new year.

there may be more later...or not. wishing you peace.

life cycles

I am home and something is stirring in me. I have been emptied this past week. I have poured myself out in an offering to others and I have allowed them to begin to fill me back up. It is a cycle of renewal. It is the beauty of birth-life-death and rebirth.

I never cease to be amazed at the touch of those I have chosen to surround myself with as well as the impact of strangers and others who have entered my life for only brief moments. This morning I read the post of a dear friend as she wove her experiences of grief, loss and life. I am reminded of my own losses. Some as profound as the loss of my beloved father when I was barely nineteen and the fast forward to losing my dear sweet, Curry. Other people and family members stir in my mind, but I am most profoundly struck this morning by the loss of people I knew for only a brief moment in time like the student who battled hard against me and then chose to walk away suddenly and silently. I still think of the man on the bus and another stranger in a small Oklahoma town who I knew for an hour and then we shared a prayer. Each touched me deeply by their presence and I can feel the loss of their absence along with the significant impact they made on my life.

Loss is indeed profound in our lives especially when we allow ourselves to acknowledge it and feel it. Feeling the loss leads to an emptying which then allows us to be filled with joy and other experiences of life. If we refuse to empty ourselves, the old stuff fills us to the brim and we find ourselves like an overstuffed turkey unable to move or a box filled to the brim just waiting to explode.

This past week, I unconsciously and deliberately chose to be emptied. And so I enter this day, this week, waiting to be filled. Not expecting anything. Just as I did not expect the beautiful filling I received when I read Christine’s post. There is something in accepting what we are offered each day. Not expecting grand results, but then looking back and seeing that we have been touched and filled (perhaps only a teaspoon full) simply because we allowed ourselves to really feel the emotion of a moment—perhaps our own or maybe that of another person.

Will you allow yourself to be impacted today? How will you empty yourself? What are the moments when you feel the inpouring of life? Consider grief. Consider joy. They each make room for the other ☺.

formation

“to be nobody but myself— in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make me somebody else— means to fight the hardest battle any human can fight, and never stop fighting.”

--e.e. cummings

I love to read. One of my favorite things to do is to light a candle, put on some gentle music, pour a hot cup of coffee and snuggle into my bed surrounded by my current pile of reading material. The challenge for me, however, comes as I switch back and forth between texts (with an intermittent stop at my favorite blog sites) and then try to remember where exactly was that brilliant point I want to incorporate into my musings.

Currently I am reading Trapped in the Mirror—Adult Children of Narcissists in their struggle for self and Life is a Verb by the delightful Patti Digh of 37 days. This morning I began Lectio Divina by my dear friend Christine Paintner of Abbey of the Arts and I recently finished The Wise Heart – A Guide to the Universal Teachings of Buddhist Psychology by Jack Kornfield. At first glance these texts might appear to be quite diverse in topic and indeed they are. However, my ponderings this morning brought out the common thread I see in these books.

Perhaps it is merely my perspective, but I see that all move toward the goal of greater life – fullness – connection with God – mental health – mindfulness – coming alive – fulfilling who we are meant to be. They all speak of formation and lead me to ask the following questions: How will I be formed? How am I being formed? What is my role in personal formation? Do I read for information? Do I write to be formed or to inform? Who or what do I seek?

When I allow myself to slow down, I realize that it is God I seek. The ultimate wholeness and completeness of the universe. When I experience God, I am home. I see the beauty of the stillness. I hear the still small voice - the words that seemingly come out of nowhere. The meaning that has no words – only experience. I know that I am here for a purpose even though I may not quite know what it is.

So I invite you to ponder along with me. How are you informed? Do you see patterns in your life that warrant exploration? Who or what do you seek in your daily life? In your readings? Your work or play? Do you choose to fight the battle to be yourself? Or do you allow others to make you into someone else?

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.
--Rainer Maria Rilke