Oneness

 "We all have a light and a dark side. To use an analogy, we might say that we go through life with a watchdog on one side of us and a wolf on the other. We sometimes feed one, sometimes the other. We all feed both in the course of a life, no matter how saintly or errant we are. Thus, Mother St. Teresa's wolf did not starve and neither did Hitler's dog. 

From a spiritual and saintly perspective, our identity is something like the faith view of the Eucharist. Under the appearance of who we are in the world is our true divinity/identity. Then we too are a holy sacrament, outward signs of inward grace that can nourish the world. Likewise, all the cosmos is sacramental. We can come to see all that is, both ourselves and all natural things, beaming from the monstrance of the universe. We come to see all that is as a bodily holding of a divine presence. When this happens in us, we are truly engaging in perpetual adoration. Our wholeness has become holiness." 

Wholeness and Holiness, David Richo, page 9 

Early this morning I dreamed of two dogs fighting. In the dream they appear at my screen door. They are wounded, but not dramatically, and are quietly standing side by side. I had not yet read this passage from David Richo's book, but I had begun crafting my personal pledge of allegiance. I am reminded once more that there are no coincidences. I am also reminded that any movement to wholeness is not just for ourselves as individuals, but for all of life. We heal together. While that certainly seems ample, we can go further and offer the process of our healing in gratitude. Yes, that is praise. I am also reminded I might benefit from being a little easier on (and in) myself.  

   

Here is the rough draft of my pledge. It is to no flag, but to the sacredness of all life:  

 

"I pledge allegiance to my heart, my mind, and my soul, 

and to the freedom in which we all can live: 

Unity in God - with liberty and justice for all.  

say, November 27, 2023 

   

Yes, I had to look up the word monstrance. It is the vessel in which the consecrated eucharistic host (the sacramental bread) is carried and displayed in the Roman Catholic church, and others. 

   

 

image: Half Moon Bay, November 25, 2023. The creatures in the foreground are hardworking sanderlings who quickly try to harvest any nourishment  they find washed up on the sand before the next wave comes. They run incredibly fast on short legs, but also take to the sky when necessary. I find them fascinating. Please excuse the lack of detail. There is just so much I can do with my eye phone!

Touched and Spoken To

 Last month in my monthly visit to an assisted living community, I asked about Ms. D. who normally would always be us. I was told that she was in the hospital and would probably need to be moved to a community that could provide her with more care than they can offer. I was not surprised because she was growing frail. Yet, I was saddened. I always appreciated her cheery good will. I was told that she had a beautiful garden. I am not surprised.

Yet, this week as we were just beginning the service, I was surprised and delighted to see a caregiver bring Ms. D. to the service.  She was in a wheelchair, and appeared weak. I happily greeted her, and I placed a song sheet on her lap and pointed to the song we were singing. I then returned to lead the group in the singing of the beautiful old Thanksgiving hymns. I glanced at Ms. D. and I realized that she was quietly singing some of the words from memory. I walked over, gently placed my hand on her shoulder, and pointed each word out, and we sang together. Her voice was barely audible, but she was singing. Afterwards, she and I had a good chuckle. Her eyes were bright and she was smiling. My eyes were probably bright as well. Moments such as these are not uncommon in SpiritCare, and they are why I continue to volunteer at a few local communities. 

Before the rains began, I went into the back yard and played my flute. In the book, Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes that plants like to be touched and spoken to. I have been trying to interact more with the plants in my garden and it is a pleasurable thing to do. I do not know if they like music, but I love playing outside. On this particular day, the light was beautiful, and I noticed a small white flower glistening as it took in the sun. This particular plant has lived here longer than we have, and I finally learned that it is known as an African or fortnight iris. I think I see better when I play.  My flute teacher contends that music builds communities, and I think he is right. Fortunately, we don't have to be brilliant musicians for these connections to happen. I also believe these communities are made up of more than just humans. Earlier, I stepped outside to pick up the newspaper and to check on the plants in the front. There was a slight wind blowing. The wind this week has been interesting. The air has been warm, but cool breezes have been blowing through. While we cannot see the wind, the movement of warm and cool has reminded me of a Van Gogh sky. I paused to feel the wind and look around. I realized that there was a scent of heliotrope in the air. I was surprised as the one plant we have is not that large, but it is healthy and mature. I bent over and noticed a small caterpillar on one of the blossoms. It had eaten enough that it had taken on a pale purple hue. I had to smile. I did not have the heart to dispatch it, but I do need to keep an eye on it. I am learning that gardening is a balancing act, and not unlike music and pretty much all of life, it takes practice to learn the harmony. 

 

The light is beautiful this morning, and it is time for a walk. Do get outside if you can. Wonders are everywhere and should be celebrated.  

  

Joyful, joyful we adore you, 

God of glory, God of love. 

Hearts unfold like flowers before you, 

Opening to the sun above.  

  

Henry van Dyke 

Hymn tune: "Hymn to Joy", Beethoven, 

adapted by Edward Hodges

  

image: African Iris, San Leandro, 2015

 

Attending

 Recently, I dreamed of a figure dressed completely in a long white gown.  On the left front shoulder was an image of a red heart about the size of my outstretched hand. As I woke, I heard the words, "Make room." I took these words personally (to heart, one might say), and I have been pondering how to respond to that suggestion.   

A few weeks ago, I signed up for a one day retreat at San Damiano in Danville. I love that Franciscan retreat center, but many of their offerings stretch over a weekend, so I am limited as to the number of retreats I can attend. This retreat was held this past Saturday. As I parked my car, I saw and heard a small group singing in the labyrinth. It was a beautiful fall day, and as I walked towards the meeting room, I fell in love again with their garden that was donned in beautiful fall colors. The retreat was titled, "How to Be Sane, Spiritual, and Saintly". I had never thought of myself on a journey to be saintly, but the actual retreat topic did not really matter to me. What I was responding to was the quiet but persistent call to return to San Damiano. 

   

As I settled into the meeting room, I noticed that it was filling quickly. At that moment, I realized I did not even know who would be leading this retreat, and I felt a little foolish. Yet, while I may have known nothing of David Richo, Ph.D., it seemed that everyone else in the room was very familiar with his talks and his books. I sensed happiness that he was returning for the day. It turned out to be a lovely, thought provoking time led by an older, soft spoken, and intelligent author who listened deeply to people's questions, and responses. I told a friend that I would send her the prayer that was given to us. I am sharing it with you as well. I am making an effort to read it every morning. I appreciate addressing God as Sacred Heart. It brings warmth to the journey. 

     

"I say Yes to everything that happens to me today

as an opportunity 

to give and receive love without reserve. 

I am thankful for the enduring capacity to love 

that has come to me from the 

Sacred Heart of the universe. 

May everything that happens to me today

open my heart more and more. 

May all that I think, say, feel, and do 

express loving-kindness 

towards myself, those close to me, and all beings. 

May love be my life purpose, my bliss, 

my destiny, my calling, 

the richest grace I can receive or give." 

  

Dave Richo, The Power of Grace 

One of the retreatants asked about trying to be saintly. I was grateful for the question, and for Dave's soft spoken response: "If we believe we are on a spiritual journey, why wouldn't we try to be saintly?". That actually seems like a very sane response. The day turned out to be a time of mostly silence for me. I spoke very little. I did take my flute with me thinking I might find a secluded place to play after lunch, but I opted instead to just walk and quietly take in the rhythm and beauty of place. I took no pictures. Even that simple action felt like it would take me out of that silence that I now understand as  Presence tending to my heart.