Beyond Walls

 In the dream I seem to be working in some sort of outdoor hospital. There are no walls and no floor, just a few makeshift beds. There is quite a bit of chaos going on, but my intention is to baptize two young children. I do this because both of them have asked me to do so. I  cannot tell you the exact nature of the chaos, but it was very present, and I had to work through it and around it. Finally, I am able to baptize the children. I stand upright, and I hear someone ask me why I would do that. Why would I even attempt a baptism in such an environment? I ask in return, "Why wouldn't I? It is all a temple." 

 This morning I received the following thought from Father Richard Rohr:  

"Our very suffering now, our condensed presence on this common nest that we have fouled, will soon be the ONE thing that we finally share in common. It might well be the one thing that will bring us together. The earth and its life systems on which we all entirely depend (just as we depend on God!) might soon become the very thing that will convert us to a simple gospel lifestyle, to necessary community, and to an inherent and universal sense of the holy."    

 On January 12, 2025 my intention is to retire from the San Lorenzo Church. I have loved being there. Yet, I cannot deny that Tyler and I both long to do some exploring, both internal and also out in what is still our beautiful country.  I recently bought a small book, Earth Keeper, Reflections on the American Land by N. Scott Momaday. I would call this book a devotional, a prayer book, and a book of dreams. I also call it beautiful. Momaday, a poet, novelist, and essayist, was of the Kiowa people.  In this book he writes, "The earth is a house of stories." I want to hear, and experience, more of these stories, more of these dreams. 

     

    

    

       

image: Coyote Regional Park, October 2024. When I took this photograph, I did not see these two women. As we walked by them, they had paused at the trunk of the tree, and were leaning against it. They seemed relieved to have found a resting place.  I think I understand.