Now Is the Time

 The morning meditation is always about the permanence of impermanence.  

 To the southeast pink clouds stretch across the blue sky, 

As if an unseen calligrapher's brush left a message 

that almost, but fortunately not quite, 

began to disappear as quickly as it was created.

The relationship between sky and sun, earth and moon 

cannot be long held in the hand or the mind. 

We can only humbly come before them  

as nations plan and rant and plunder, 

trying to hoard and completely eat up at the same time.

  

Yet, there are messages that linger long enough 

to guide us a little further, messages that whisper,

  

"This is your life. Go ahead; 

please make yourself at home

 and plant some beautiful seeds." 

  

say

 November 30, 2024    

      

    

say

 November 30, 2024    

With Gratitude to Jack Kornfield

 Early this morning I read that National Geographic 

believes older women should get out in nature more.   

I would agree that modest adventure is good for some of us, 

and wild adventure is good for others, 

but yes, if possible, all of us should get up and go.

So I decided to take my rain jacket for a modest walk. 

I love my jacket.    

It keeps me dry and does not complain about doing so.

It seems to enjoy, like most of us, being asked to come along 

rather than left to hang around in a crowded dark closet. 

It kindly leaves my hands free to help my phone take pictures.

Yes,  the three of us went for a walk. 

It did rain, but not hard. Did that make us an intrepid party of four?

I was startled by a flock of birds that I heard 

take off before I saw them.   

Actually, I do not know how many creatures, including 

birds and trees and fallen leaves still in their colors, and rain, 

and the skittish grey cat, and neighbors who said hello, 

 joined me on this small adventure. 

I just knew I was not alone.   

  

Before I left, I listened to a presentation by the wise Jack Kornfield. 

As I walked I pondered the difference between 

awareness, and compassionate awareness. 

At least, I think that is what he was talking about.  

Regardless, we all know people who express 

their awareness like a pouncing lion.  

They sense weakness and have a mission  

to make themselves known just before they try to devour us. 

I confess that on occasion I, too, have jumped to make myself known.  

Yet, there is another awareness that includes compassion.   

That is very different.  A knowing that does not consume 

but makes room.  Lots of room.  

Enough for the whole world. 

Today has been a beautiful adventure.   

It is not quite noon.  

I still have time, and some room, to learn.     

      

 

 

say, November 2024

Thoughts That Come While Cooking Split Pea Soup and Washing Dishes on an Overcast Monday

 I am determined to love this earth.

No matter what, I will hold dear

all of her plants and creatures,

all of her dirt and wind and fire,

her droughts, her floods,

her wounds that keep mounting up,

the rhythm of the dying and the living.

This beautiful earth is doing her best

to tend to life. She cannot break that habit;

It is what she does because she is life itself.

I do not know what the future holds.

There are dark voices on the horizon

that seem to not respect life, even though

they are a part of it.

I hear them, but I will not take their words

into my heart.

I will stand, yes, probably afraid,

but I will stand on and for the earth

and continue to sing of my love.

God is still singing,

and so will I.

say 2024

I think I may have over salted the soup. I may need to make biscuits to compensate. I smile.

image: A neighbor's tree. No, this is not a great photograph. I took it last week through one of our living room windows that overlooks my neighbor's backyard. I did not want to open the window or go outside because I knew the birds would hear me and fly away. This tree is a favorite for the neighborhood finches and sparrows so it is a favorite of mine. These particular birds are forest or wood pigeons. They are larger than city pigeons, and they have yellow legs and yellow rims around their eyes. It seems they prefer wooded areas, but have a weakness for tasty morsels found in neighborhood bird feeders. They make me smile. As does the idea of biscuits.

Resurrection

 

     

       

This photograph is one that I took a few years ago. I cannot remember where. I love it, because despite its wounds, the tree appears to be praying and even dancing. In that spirit, I want to share a meditation by the Native American writer N. Scott Momaday. This is from Earth Keeper, Reflections on the American Land.

"The force of life is very great...Some years ago the prayer tree at Rainy Mountain was struck by lightning. It burned and turned black. The tree seemed to be dead. But a long time afterward there appeared a tiny sprig of green on a charred limb, and the hidden life of the tree burst out in a hundred leaves. It was a wondrous sight, and I wept to see it. I believe that the earth gave of its irresistible life to the tree. How can we not give thanks in return?"

Friends, spend some time outside today if you can, and give thanks for the blessings that you discover there. Take good care of your beautiful souls. The work of love will continue.   

Calm

 

 I just read a lovely quote by Episcopal bishop Rev. Barbara Harris (1930–2020). She was commenting on the story of the disciples panicking in a storm while Jesus slept:

"What they did not understand, and what many today do not understand is that although we may panic in times of stress and distress, God does not share our panic."     

   

   

Thank you, Father Richard Rohr and the Center of Action and Contemplation for this reminder.

 

Jesus woke up, rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, “Peace! Be still!” Then the wind ceased and there was a dead calm. He said to the disciples, “Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?”
Mark 4:39–40

Walking With the Soul

 

Seeing the shadow of a rose petal makes me think that life might be a little more tender than I realize.  I am two months away from retiring from ministry. I am grateful for the message that the time has come to learn to walk in a new way. 

Inside the Rose (2)    

Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

    

But there are those in bodies

who are pure soul. It can happen.  

   

These messengers invite us to walk with them.  

They say, You may feel happy enough where you are, 

but we cannot do without you any longer. Please.      

  

So we  walk along the rose,

being pulled like the creeks and rivers are 

out from the town onto the plain.  

   

My guide, my soul, your only sadness

is when I am not walking with you.   

   

In deep silence, and with some exertion

to stay in your company

I could save you a lot of trouble. 

    

   

    

image: San Leandro, November 2024   

     

Love Letter

 Overall, I am feeling optimistic. Now, that feeling does come and go, but I am getting better at reading the tide. At the moment, I know only this morning's beautiful light. A few nights ago, the crescent waning phase of the moon was stunning. I love that moon phase because when the sky is clear, the outline of the full moon to come can be seen. Yes, it is subtle. All the better. Then two nights ago, it rained. Not a lot, but it was indeed rain, and not, as I initially thought, a creature rummaging around. It really has been a long dry summer.    

 The image that is attached was taken from the dining room window at Villa Maria del Mar in Santa Cruz. The sun was setting. As I have mentioned, the ocean was very much alive last week. Anchovies were in, and they were feeding whales, and all sorts of sea and shore birds. I was particularly delighted that pelicans were able to feast. I understand that is not always the case. I knew little else but awe and gratitude. I do think they often go hand in hand, like the lovers that they are. 

  

Speaking of love, I love this poem. So I share it with all of you.  

    

He Is a Letter  

 

Someone who goes with half a loaf of bread

to a small place that fits like a nest around him,

someone who wants no more, 

who is not himself longed for

by anyone else. 

   

He is a letter to everyone. You open it.

It says, Live.    

 

Rumi   

   

Yes, I am trying to keep things simple these days, although I did have some moments of discomfort when I could not find my book, A Year with Rumi, by Coleman Barks. However, in the process of searching, I put two books in the giveaway box. As a friend of mine says, "It's all good."