Eyes of the Heart - Week Four - Reflections

From Random

Mirror, mirror on the wall.....

I'm not a fan of mirrors, or pictures of myself. When you look in the mirror are you happy with what you see there or is there all kinds of negative self-talk going on in your head? What is it you choose not to see?

You can't see my soul
reflected there in the mirror.
For that,
you would have to close your eyes
and wait in the darkness
until you could see the light
reflected in my heart.

* o

Eyes of the Heart - Week Four - Reflections

Eyes of the Heart - Week Two - Shadows

From Random

This week in the "Eyes of the Heart" course we have been working with and talking about shadows. Often we think of shadows as dark and dangerous places. We talk of the "shadow side" of our personalities - those traits we have that are less than pleasant. Scary things hide in the shadows. Shadows are the opposite of light. Jen Louden, the Comfort Queen, often talks about "shadow comforts", those things that we do to avoid being creative or following our passions - like surfing the net, endlessly checking email or watching TV. Not essentially bad things on their own, but when used for avoidance, well then not so good.

Today when I was out on my walk, I turned the corner from the very bright sunshine and onto a shadier section of the sidewalk. The coolness of the shade hit my face, and I realized that sometimes shadows are necessary. They provide a place to rest and restore, a chance to lick our wounds and heal if we need to do.

The key, I think, is knowing when we are using the shadow to heal and when we are using it to just hide and not deal with things. And the next step is knowing when it is time to come out of the shadow and back into the sunshine.

From Random

(top photo: "Chalice in Sunlight", bottom photo: "Me and My Shadow") * o

Eyes of the Heart - Week Two - Shadows

Eyes of the Heart - Week One

I am currently taking part in Christine Valters-Paintner's online class "Eyes of the Heart - Photography as a Contemplative Practice" so for the next six weeks I'll be sharing some of my images from this course and some thoughts on the process.

Last week was "Week One" and the assignment was to take a contemplative walk around your neighborhood, allowing yourself to be led in whatever direction you feel you should go with no definite purpose or place to get to. Along the way, I was to notice what my eye was drawn to, to receive the image with my camera, and then to pick some of the photos to share and reflect on.

One image that really caught my attention was this one:

From Random

Leave One Lane Open. Leave yourself open, don't fill up on too many things. Don't keep yourself so busy you can't breathe. After all you can't breathe if you are not open. * o

Eyes of the Heart - Week One

Way of the Monk - Week Six - Final

This week wrapped up "Way of the Monk, Path of the Artist". It's been an amazing six weeks and I've met some wonderful fellow monks and artists along the way.

Christine has other offerings of this course available, and if you are in any way thinking that this is calling to you I urge you to check it out. You won't regret it.

This week, we looked at creating some sort of Rule for ourselves. A rule being a sort of framework for our lives as monks and artists. Being the creative group that we are, the rules came in all shapes and sizes - written rules, poetic rules, mandala's, etc.

Here are my "Rules of the Inner Monastery", they are all about "Bee-ing""

From Random

Written on the wings of the bees in the corners:

Be a friend to your body
Be a listener of the wind
Be thankful
Be in nature
Be in Awe
Be creative
Be an explorer of your soul
Be Here Now
Be Mindful
Be in prayer
Be Still and Know that I Am

Now I am resting in this week, as I prepare for the beginning next week of the next class, "Eyes of the Heart".......glad it's not completely over yet! * o

Way of the Monk - Week Six - Final

Way of the Monk - Week Five

Nature Altars and a Fairy Tale

From Random

Once upon a time in a place called the Cave of the Heart there lived a tiny, elfish girl. She lived surrounded by her Shadow Sisters. These were not her real sisters, since she was an only child, but rather these were Sisters in spirit who had attached themselves to living with the little girl.

Sister Worrywart sat in the corner biting her nails and muttering. Sister Shy hid behind the curtains and only stammered when spoken directly to. Sister Romantic sat in the rocking chair, her nose buried in a book and Sister Lonely stared out the window, sighing heavily every now and again. Sister Envy was busy making a list of all the things she wished she had that other people seemed to have, and every once in awhile she would tally it off, waving her hands in the air. Sister Inadequate was busy in the kitchen trying to make a meal, and when it came time to sit down to eat she put it on the table, wringing her hands and muttering “oh, I hope it’s OK, I’m not a real cook you know, I’ve never been trained and I really don’t know what I’m doing.....” Sister Ugly was known to spend days going through the closets, trying things on, staring in the mirror and then stuffing everything back in the closets again moaning that there was “nothing to wear” that looked good on her.

One day there was a knock on the door of the Cave. Sister Romantic looked up from her book, sighed heavily “oh that Edward he is sooo mysterious and delish”, and got up to answer the door.

“Good Morning” said a tall, beautiful woman, “I’m looking for the little girl that lives here.” The beautiful woman smiled a warm smile. She was dressed in a pale blue silk dress, with a yellow silk shawl. She had long grey hair, and the most beautiful and deep blue eyes that Sister Romantic had ever seen. In her arms she was holding a big, wicker basket.

The little girl stepped out from behind Sister Romantic. “Good day” she said softly, “won’t you come in.” The little girl knew that this woman was a very Wise Woman and she bowed to her reverently as she stepped into the Cave.

“Thank you”, said the Wise Woman, “I have brought a gift for you.” And she handed the little girl the wicker basket.

“Careful, don’t take gifts from strangers!” barked Sister Worrywart, and then she went back to biting her nails.

“It’s Ok”, said the little girl as she took the basket, “It’ll be alright” she said soothingly.

“What is this?” she asked the Wise Woman.

“This basket contains the gifts of your soul. These are the gifts that you have to offer the world - your spirituality, your creativity, your friendship, your presence.....they are all here. And they are all unique to you - no one else has these gifts. They have been kept for you by your Soul Sisters and it is time for you to share these gifts with the world. You can nurture them here in the Cave of the Heart, but in order for them to grow you need to take them out and use them. No one can take them away from you - they are yours. Your Soul Sisters are waiting for you to come out into the world, and they will support you when you need it.”

The little girl took each of the gifts carefully out of the basket and looked them over, one by one, marveling at how they glowed.

“Oh no, we can’t possibly share these” exclaimed Sister Inadequate, “we’re not ready for them, we’d break them or something.”

“Besides” said Sister Envy, “they’re not as good as others gifts, why I know a little girl who has much better gifts than these.”

The little girl thought she should give the basket back to the Wise Woman, but the Wise Woman bent down, touched her cheek and said softly, “You know I wouldn’t pay too much attention to the Shadow Sisters. They are bound to get a little bit jealous from time to time, but they’ll quiet down.” She stood up and smiled at Sister Envy.

“Oh, there’s one more thing. These are for you.” The Wise Woman handed the little girl a beautiful set of wings that looked like monarch butterfly wings. The little girl put them on, and twirled around and around.

“Oh they are so beautiful, just like a fairy!” sighed Sister Romantic.

“Careful, you’ll break them!” shouted Sister Worrywart.

Sister Envy was about to say something, but one sharp look from the Wise Woman stopped her dead.

“It’s time for you to leave the Cave of the Heart, spread your wings and fly” she told the little girl and with that she took her hand and led her out the door.

It is said, that from time to time the little girl returns to the Cave of the Heart and visits with the Shadow Sisters - they are, a part of her after all. And when she is there, she also spends time going through her basket of gifts given to her so lovingly by the Soul Sisters, and restored and renewed she spreads her wings and heads back out to the world. * o

Way of the Monk - Week Five

Way of the Monk - Week Four

Vows

A labyrinth runs through my heart,
Winding slowly this way and that through my inner monastery,
Pondering the sacred whisper of my soul,
Knowing that obedience scares me.

Winding slowly this way and that through my inner monastery,
Conversion finds the path through the walls,
Knowing that obedience scares me,
Afraid to be true to myself.

Conversion finds the path through the walls,
Pondering the sacred whisper of my soul,
Afraid to be true to myself,
A labyrinth runs through my heart. * o

Way of the Monk - Week Four

Way of the Monk - Week Three

Book of Hours

From Random

This week we explored rhythms, and wheels, and seasons and hours specifically the Divine Hours and their relationship to seasons and our own internal rhythms. It's been a wonderful creative week of pausing and noticing. The project for the week was to write some Haiku's expressing our feelings and reflections of the seasons and hours, and then to create our own Book of Hours (front of my book pictured above). Here are my Haiku's:

Dawn

purple fingers reach
over the mountain and sky
inhale the new day

Spring

ice cracks in the bay
as the sun's heat grows stronger
robin finds a worm

Day

fullness of day's breath
brings forth energy of creation
hold the momentum

Summer

days are longer still
and nights are warm and breezy
we play as children

Dusk

deep release of dusk
shedding of the old cracked skin
ripe as the full berry

Autumn

oak tree sheds its leaves
and geese fly south for winter
I mourn the wheel's turn

Dark

resting in the pause
contemplate the day's end
where was God in this?

Winter

darkness comes early
as bear sleeps deep in the ground
here dreams will bare fruit

In what ways do the seasons and the hours speak to you?

From Random

* o

Way of the Monk - Week Three

Way of the Monk - Week Two

What would it be like if we treated the every day, common objects that we touch a hundred times over again as sacred tools??

Bless These Hands

Bless these hands
that touch the computer keys
and file
and answer emails
and pick up the phone
over and over again each day.

Bless these hands
that touch the dishes
and towels and sheets
and fold laundry
and sweep the floors
over and over again each day.

Bless these hands
that touch the pen
and scribble words
and cut out images
and paint and glue
over and over again each day.

Bless these hands
that touch the chalice
and wash the vessels
and polish the brass
and clean the linens
over and over again each day.

Bless these hands
that caress a lover
and soothe a child
and hug a friend
and greet a stranger
over and over again each day.

Bless these hands
for all that they touch
is holy and sacred
and common and ordinary
over and over again each day.

(copyright January 2010 - Eveline Maedel) * o

Way of the Monk - Week Two

Way of the Monk - Week One

It's near the end of the first week of the online course I'm taking - "Way of the Monk - Path of the Artist". It's been a week of trying to carve out time for myself, for my creativity and for my sanity! This week has been about exploring the monk and the artist, where they converge and where they split apart. I've spent a lot of time thinking about what draws me to the contemplative life, why I need to be creative, and how come I make myself too busy to enjoy either. I'm also coming to understand that my "inner monk" needs periods of down time to replenish, and so does the "inner artist". I'm coming to terms with the fact that the reason I like to spend a lot of time alone is because I need to build up that inner monk/artist. Not that I want to be a hermit, I just enjoy my solitude. Always have.

One of the assignments this week was to write a poem about what it would mean to start living like a monk and an artist:

I Am Going to Start Living

I am going to start living like a monk,
turning the rhythm of my days
into a prayer to the divine.
Pausing amidst the paper work
and ringing phones,
to stare at the mountains out the window
and soak in silence
with each breath,
until my office becomes a cloister
that shuts out distraction.

I am going to start living like an artist,
turning the rhythm of my days
into a poem of worship.
Pausing to notice the sunrise
painted by a divine hand upon the sky.
Soaking in the creative spirit
with each breath,
until my life becomes a canvas
painted over and over again.

I am going to start living like a mystic,
turning the rhythm of my days
into a cosmic dance.
Pausing between yoga asanas
to notice the breath of spirit,
making each movement a prayer,
until even my simple yoga mat,
becomes holy ground.

(January 2010, copyright Eveline Maedel)

* o

Way of the Monk - Week One

Happy 2010 - Radiant!

The New Year has rung in, cold, clear and crisp!

I'm not usually all that great at making resolutions or writing up big goal plans for the year. But I have, over the last couple of days been working on and filling out this really cool, creative workbook/planner from the sparkly, bubbly and lovely Goddess Leonie!

What I love about this planner is it's so colorful and it feels more like "play" than "working on goals". Lots of prompts, lots of room to write or collage in. And it's reasonably priced too - check it out!

One of the exercises in the workbook is to come up with your "word for the year." The word that keeps coming up, the one that I would like to play with this year is "Radiant." I want 2010 to be Radiant in all sorts of areas - health, spirituality, work wise. There's a lot I'm happy to let go of from 2009, and a lot I'm looking forward to in the next year.

In the next few weeks, along with 20 or so others spread out all over the world, I'll be taking part in Christine Valters-Painter's online course "Way of the Monk - Path of the Artist." I can't think of a better way to start the new year off and am hoping it will be just the right mix of creative and contemplative that I need right now!

Here's to 2010 - may it be RADIANT!! * o

Happy 2010 - Radiant!

Advent

From Random

(one frosty November morning)

I haven't been blogging much. In fact, I haven't been creative at all much of late. Bit of a slump, or down cycle. It's partly, I think, part of the grieving process. This past July my father died, and I have been sitting with this for awhile. Although I am an avid fan of journaling, art journaling and collage and all sorts of "creative' stuff, for some reason this is not how I've processed my grief. Instead, in the summer I sat a lot in my gazebo and rested and daydreamed. In the fall, I walked a lot, listening to music on the iPod.

And now the days are shorter, darkness comes quickly and the weather has slowly turned winter like. No sitting outside, no long evening walks. I have been busy - busy at work, busy with my spiritual direction course. The spiritual side of my life has been fed with music, and reading and the beginnings and excitement of actually doing spiritual direction work with some wonderful people - while the creative side of my life lies dormant, waiting.

In the liturgical year it is Advent. A time of preparation, waiting, expectation. I sit, pregnant with the possibilities that the birth of a new year can bring. There will be creative times again, there will be new projects, new dreams, and new hopes. And there will be new losses, changes and struggles. And while we wait with hope and joy, there is also sadness and missing those who won't be at the Christmas table this year. Both sides of the coin, the yin and the yang.

Seasons and cycles, the turning of the wheel. I sit in the dusky evening quiet and wait for the light to return again. Advent. * o

Advent

Poetry Moment

All My Body Calls

All my body calls
for something in this sleeping
earth
we call the spirit.

But how
from lifted arms
where stars run through fingers
and the night is like sand
do I breathe a fragrance of its wisdom
do I call its name
or listen to the drops
that trickle down to earth
and hear
life being given
not only through the moving hands of the forest
but through the hand that reaches in
the dark unmoving regions of the chest
and uncovers slowly
the enormous
indistinct
shape of the ocean.

~ David Whyte ~

(Songs for Coming Home)

(photo is of my favorite spot to sit on my walks)

* o

Poetry Moment

Another Tuesday Evening

It's been a beautiful warm and sunny day. The first week of September has provided splendid weather - much better than the entire summer. A cacophony of shrills greet me after work. The cedar waxwings are back, feasting on the berries of the ash tree next door and our hedge.

The Teen Man-Child and I feast on a supper of cold ham, sweet potatoes and a tossed salad. I eat slowly, clean up the dishes and then head out the door for an evening walk.

"Buffy", my iPod, plays the melodious strains of J. Phillip Newell's, "Sounds of the Eternal" as I head down towards the cemetery. Once there, I sit at my favorite spot, the small wooden plank between two trees that overlooks the bay and Doghead mountain. The wind is rustling through tree leaves and there's a haze
covering the town across the bay. The air is scented with that woodsy, damp leafy smell that signals autumn is around the corner.

I listen. I pray. I read from Caitlin Matthew's "Celtic Devotional". I stare out over the bay and watch leaves fall from the trees.

Audio Divinia. Lectio Divinia. Visio Divinia. Sensory Divinia?

Returning home I shower, light a candle and settle down to write. Another Tuesday evening slips away. * o

Another Tuesday Evening

Pondering Sacred Sound

The past couple of weeks I’ve been exploring “sacred sound”. The awesome Fabeku Fatunmise describes sacred sound as a combination of sound and intention, or in his words: “Sacred sound wraps itself around what you want and feeds it. It nourishes it and gives it presence. It energizes your focus so fully that your focus starts to shake with excitement, knowing it’s just about ready to take the stage and rock out.”

Fabeku has a pretty cool free download of ten minutes of sacred sound – singing bowl and drum - that is really worth checking out. I’ve been playing it once or twice a day, taking time to slow down my breathing, and soak in a few minutes of peace. And I’ve been finding myself a lot calmer, focused and enjoying some spurts of creativity.

I’ve also been playing around with my own hoop drum, a djembe and an amazing little singing bowl I got from Fabeku.

The concept of “sacred sound” appeals to me. I’ve often used music to relax with or shift my energy level higher when I’ve needed it. I’ve used music to pray with. Hymns, Taize chants, and classical pieces are often a part of my prayer and worship time. These are things I think of as “sacred sound” too – maybe in not quite the same stuck-shifting way as what Fabeku works with, but in the sense that it is sound that transports, uplifts and has some pretty groovy positive energy with it.

And that got me pondering this morning about what other sounds I would label as sacred. I started listing them in my journal and so far have come up with:

• listening to the heart beat of my beloved while snuggling close
• a cat's purr
• a baby laughing (or a bunch of babies laughing! - dare you to watch this and not giggle)
• birds singing in my backyard
• a small child's soft breathing while sleeping
• the fountains gurgling in my ponds
• leaves rustling
• loon calling
• waves lapping on shore
• snow crunching underfoot
• windchimes (when the breeze blows gently, when it's really windy, windchimes are just annoying!)

I’ve noticed that quite a few in my list are nature sounds. I am blessed to live in a small town surrounded by mountains, lakes and trees and I wonder what a city dweller’s list would look like?

I think the point is that there is so much noise around us, we’ve tuned out. We miss the truly beautiful notes in our day. Some of this constant noise may actually be pretty harmful to us - to our health, to our energy levels.

Grab your journal and make a quick list of sounds you would call sacred. Sounds that uplift and heal you. Don’t over think it, just jot things down. (Why not download Fabeku’s free sacred sound clip while you’re doing that…). Become aware of the noise around you. What sounds are you missing or tuning out? How can you bring more of these sacred sounds into your life?

* o

Pondering Sacred Sound

Sunday Bliss

Spent the better part of the evening here in the gazebo, drinking my tea, reading and journaling. It was finally warm enough to enjoy it!!!

Worked this afternoon on making a hoop drum, part of the sacred art portion of Module One in the spiritual direction training. I was worried that I wasn't going to be able to figure out the instructions, but it turned out not too bad. The drum is drying now, and then I will paint a design on it (haven't decided what yet).

Here's a slideshow of the drum making process:

* o

Sunday Bliss

Cardinals

Cardinals have always been a very special, symbolic bird for me. And since they are more common in the southern parts of this province than here, when I went on my retreat at Easter I was really hoping I might catch a glimpse of one.

Saturday afternoon of the retreat I had quite a bit of spare time, and went for a walk on the hospital grounds next to the convent. There is a shrine garden there - a really nice spot for quiet meditation and reflection. After sitting there for some time, I started to head back. I had been listening to the birds singing, and thought "gee, it sure would be nice if I could just see one cardinal, it would make this retreat time so special". Ask, and ye shall receive. At that very moment, a cardinal flew up into the tree in front of me, looking straight at me. As I breathed prayers of "thank you, thank you", the cardinal flew back into the shrine garden, landing at the base of the cross. I sat back down and stared at it. Then it flew into the tree beside me, and sang to me. We spent at least ten minutes there in that garden, bird and I, before he flew off again. I literally bounced back to the convent, wanting to shout out "I saw a cardinal! I saw a cardinal!" but fortunately remembered this was a silent retreat. Shouting would have been frowned upon.

The next afternoon I returned to the shrine garden to do some writing in my journal. I shared the space with a chipmunk who kept darting back and forth amongst the rocks and bushes. I was naturally hoping to see the cardinal again, just one more time. I hard barely breathed that prayer when he appeared in the tree in front of me. He didn't stay as long this time, but I was just as pleased to see him.

The cardinal affirmed to me that I was in the right place, and that God was with me. That was all I needed.

(image - cardinal - watercolor crayons - April 2009) * o

Cardinals

Seeds - Reflections from Retreat

"Your heart is full of fertile seeds, waiting to sprout."
- Morihei Ueshiba

Seeds are appearing as frequent metaphors to me these days. In things that I read, in Sunday sermons and in nature around me as spring finally begins to unfold.

On Maundy Thursday I walked the labyrinth at the convent where I was on retreat for Easter. On the path I found a seed pod, with two little seeds in at. I thought of the saying "two peas in a pod" and then felt that the two seeds represented God and me, and God with me.

The above picture was painted using watercolor crayons, which I enjoy using - I seem to have more control of where I want to put the color with them. The basin and the towel are traditional symbols of Maundy Thursday services and the foot washing. At the time, I was reflecting on our servant faith and who are we called to be a servant to. The church needs more "basin and towel" spirituality. Springing forth from the pitcher are the seeds I was surrounded by all weekend - the two seeds in one pod, waiting to burst and grow. Not one lone seed, but two together - the Divine and I.

The silence of my weekend retreat was like fertile soil for a seed, nourishing and planting something that will flower at a later time. Peace washed over me like water and filled me with prayer. I feel myself in the season of spring, waiting, watching and pondering.

What is longing to grow within you right now?

"All the buried seeds crack open in the dark the instant they surrender to a process they can't see." - Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening * o

Seeds - Reflections from Retreat

Homily, Homily

Besides undergoing spiritual direction training, another way that I have been stretching myself and growing lately is through being asked to do the occasional homily at our church when our priest is not available. This is an exercise that both challenges me and terrifies me. The process of writing the homily is great for me - it gets me back into writing. The problem is then you have to stand up on Sunday in front of a bunch of people and actually read out loud what you wrote. This terrifies me. A thousand things run through my head as I stand there, "This is no good", "What if they laugh at me?" "I have no idea what I'm talking about here..." etc. etc. I'm keenly aware that I'm making this all about "me", instead of God. It is a deeply humbling experience and I have nothing but the utmost admiration for my priest and minister friends who get up there and do this every single Sunday. So far I have been blessed by lots of kind comments and no criticisms. Then it occurred to me that I need to stretch myself even more. I need to share what I have written on my blog, and that terrifies me too. Although I have very little idea who reads this blog, or why they do, I still have this strong desire to please, to get it right and to be liked. And I realized that I can't be authentic, I can't be real, if I'm afraid to post something. So, in the interest of spreading my wings just a little bit farther I present to you last Sunday's homily, based on the text of John 12:20-33, because maybe somebody out there needs this today:

“I tell you the truth, a grain of wheat must fall to the ground and die to make many seeds. But if it never dies, it remains only a single seed.”

In her novel, Amazing Grace, Kathleen Norris shares snippets of a conversation that takes place during an afternoon women’s Bible study where much of the wisdom is passed on in the stories the women share. She writes: “When I dared to speak, I said that my favorite passage in the chapter had always been Mark 4:27, because it speaks so eloquently of an ordinary miracle: that the farmer “should sleep, and rise night and day, and the seed should spring and grow up, he knoweth not how.” That seems to apply to so much that I do, I said, commitments that I make when I have no idea what I’m getting into, and somehow they grow into something important, before I know it. My marriage, for instance, I said, and the women laughed, knowingly. It also reminded me, I told them, how mysterious are so many of the things that we take for granted. We know how to plow a field, and how to seed it. But germination and growth are hidden from us, beyond our control. All we can do is wait, and hope, and see. “Only last Saturday,” a woman interrupted, “at the Lutheran fall bazaar. The place mat was real different. I saved mine.” She drew it from her purse and unfolded it. There was a picture of a wheat field and a quote from Martin Luther: “If you could understand a single grain of wheat you would die of wonder.”

An ordinary miracle. We plant a seed in the ground, we water it, fertilize it and if all conditions are right the seed will blossom into some plant we can eat or beautiful flowers to admire. But none of this will take place if the seed is not planted. It remains simply a seed.

Our modern society is a bit removed from that ordinary miracle. Sure, some of us might have small gardens in our backyard, but for the most part we’ve gotten pretty used to walking into the produce section of Zechner’s and picking up whatever vegetables we feel like eating. We don’t think much about the work that went into bringing them there - the tilling of the soil and the planting of seeds, hoping that they will produce a full crop. We just expect it to be there.

And perhaps that was what the crowd was like around Jesus that day. Some were following him around and some came to see what all the fuss was about. They’d gotten used to him wandering and preaching and maybe they had some expectations about what they were going to hear from him. But instead Jesus starts talking about seeds dying, losing your life to gain it, and being lifted up from the earth.

I wonder if the crowd that sat there that day, listening to Jesus talk understood that he was talking about himself. That in a few days, he would be crucified and buried in a tomb. Everything was about to change. When they found the tomb empty, would they remember these words?

For a few days they would be plunged into grief and loss, their world shattered by Jesus’ death. Yet, we know, the story doesn’t end with an empty tomb.

One of my current favorite CD’s is called “Unfolding” by The River’s Voice. There’s a song on it called Regeneration and I’d like to share the words with you.

(regeneration from Unfolding (2001)
the seed is planted in the ground
the rain and sun come pouring down
from deep within
new life is born
the roots take hold,
the seed is torn
but in its death the seed renews
the promises, the many hues
of God's creative gift to all
through summer, winter,
spring and fall

In it’s death the seed renews. No, the story doesn’t end with an empty tomb. In fact, the story is still going on. Jesus' death and resurrection transformed the world. We were given the gift of new life, all from a single grain of wheat. If we really understand this, to paraphrase Martin Luther, it’s amazing we haven’t all died of wonder. * o

Homily, Homily

Sunday Poetry Moment

Salvation

By what are you saved? And how?
Saved like a bit of string,
tucked away in a drawer?
Saved like a child rushed from
a burning building, already
singed and coughing smoke?
Or are you salvaged
like a car part -- the one good door
when the rest is wrecked?

Do you believe me when I say
you are neither salvaged nor saved,
but salved, anointed by gentle hands
where you are most tender?
Haven't you seen
the way snow curls down
like a fresh sheet, how it
covers everything,
makes everything
beautiful, without exception?

~ Lynn Ungar ~


(Blessing the Bread)

* o

Sunday Poetry Moment

Conversations with Cordelia

(Background - Cordelia is what I'm calling my inner critic these days. She's a chameleon that changes depending on the situation. She's mostly a composite of that girl we all knew in high school - you know the really good looking, popular girl that always made you feel like the brainiac nerd who couldn't dress properly and didn't know what to do with her hair? She's the Buffy to your Willow, off partying with the hot guy in school while you're stuck in the library doing research with Mr. Giles. And, she's partly made up of that friend I had in high school who was always trying to "help" me by pointing out what was wrong with me, and who once gave me a copy of "How to Be Your Own Best Friend", which to this day I'm still trying to think was well intentioned and not just a cruel hint. In short, she is mostly everything I am not.)

I'm working on my application for Spirations Institute and have gotten to the essay part. Write your spiritual journey in about 1,000 words. I'm stuck and avoiding it, and Cordelia pops in and plunks herself down in front of me. Well, plunks is probably not correct since Cordelia is anything but awkward. As usual, she looks good - perfect hair and makeup, nice slim black jeans, powder blue cotton long sleeved tee and a scarf perfectly wrapped around her neck. Damn, she does know how to dress well. That's so annoying.

Cordelia: "So, is that the latest?" She points to the papers spread out in front of me.

Me: "Latest what?"

Cordelia: (Tossing her head lightly to one side.) "You know, your latest thing, dream, whatever you want to call it. Is that what you're working on?"

Me: "Ya its an application for spiritual direction training, kinda stuck on it right now but I want to get it done this weekend."

My cat, the traitor, jumps up on her lap and Cordelia begins to stroke him, somewhat absentmindedly. "Hmm...I thought you were going to be, like, a writer or something? Or a creativity coach? An artist? I don't know, I can't keep up (she sighs) you're always changing it."

Me: "Well...I've done some writing and that, but I don't know I just feel pulled to explore this right now. I think I want to combine the creativity and the spirituality into something."

Cordelia gives me that haughty look she is oh so good at. "Something?" she snorts "see that's your problem - no focus. You don't really know what it is you want."

Me (defensively): "I can focus when I want." I briefly focus on a fantasy involving tightening that cute little scarf around her neck.

Cordelia looks around. "Ya sure - looks like you have piles of focus. I see your art course over there waiting for you to get back to it, a couple of half finished journals lying around, a bunch of unread books, files that have to be put away......girl, procrastination is your name."

Rather childishly I reply, "Ya, so what? I work full time too remember? And I did finish my Certificate of Spirituality so I am capable of finishing things,"

Cordelia smiles. "Well, where's all this playing going to get you anyway - don't you think you're just wasting time and money?"

I bite my lip. "No, I'm not playing. I'm trying to figure out what it is I want to do."

Cordelia (snarkily): "So what will this, (she waves her hand in the air) spiritual direction thingy get you anyway? What can you do with it exactly?"

"Well, I'll be companioning people on their spiritual journeys, I'll be listening to their stories, encouraging them - kinda like a spiritual coach I guess. And I want to do more retreats..." My voice starts to trail off.

Cordelia laughs. "Aren't you worried people are going to start thinking you're a little flaky?"

"I'm talking to you aren't I? How much flakier can it get?"

"But you can't make any real money at this can you? It's not like you're going to quit your job or anything, so why bother?"

I let out an exasperated sigh. "Because I need to do it. Because if I don't, I'll just dry up inside. No, I can't quit my job right now but that's not all of it. It's about growing, and discovering me, and not squashing my creativity, and connecting with something greater."

Cordelia picked that cat off her lap, got up, brushed the cat hair off her jeans and stretched, an obvious bored look on her face. "Ok honey, if that's what you really want" she said in a tone that implied why the hell would anyone want that? "Anyway, I've gotta run, important meeting. We'll catch up later, maybe by then you'll figure out what it is you want to be when you grow up (giggle). Call me."

Cordelia glided out the door and for a long time I started at it. Truth is, I probably will call her later. That's just the kind of co-dependent relationship we have. * o

Conversations with Cordelia