At the Top of the List

I will shortly begin creating a list of tenets that I believe are at the heart of keeping America good, but holding life as sacred is certainly at the top of the list. As we have witnessed here and around the world, the quest for greatness imposes a heavy burden on all life. What we are asked to hold as great is a destructive ego that can never be satiated. Goodness is stewardship of all life.

“There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.”  Wendell Berry

Let us not be a desecrated nation.

If you are on Facebook and are so inclined, please befriend the Keeping America Good page.           

This photograph was taken in Santa Cruz in October, 2018  

#keepingamericagood      

    

Noticings

Yesterday, I found myself admiring a small flower garden that is growing in front of a house I really have never paid much attention to, partly because when the neighborhood school is in session, I tend to walk in another direction to avoid the traffic.  As I took in the beautiful shapes and colors, I noticed that this modest grey house has a very nice front porch. I found the simplicity of this one story house quite inviting.  Later that morning I drove down a street lined with high density housing after taking over an hour and a half to make my way through about 36 miles of high density traffic.  I could see no flowers. The cost of living and working in this area is very high indeed.  

   

I found this poem in my drafts this morning.  Always good to have a poem around, waiting to be shared.  Always good to notice and remember what brings us peace.      

 

To Look at Any Thing
 
To look at any thing,
If you would know that thing,
You must look at it long:
To look at this green and say,
"I have seen spring in these woods,"
Will not do - you must
Be the thing you see:
You must be the dark snakes of
Stems and ferny plumes of leaves,
You must enter in
To the small silences between
The leaves,
You must take your time
And touch the very peace
They issue from.
 
~ John Moffitt ~
 
(Teaching With Fire, edited by S. M. Intrator and M. Scribner)   

shared by Panhala  

 

photographs:  San Leandro, July 2019 

#keepingamericagood

  

Get the Word Out

Yesterday I saw William (not his real name) at the bus stop.  When I am out walking the dog, this is where our paths cross.   He is a quiet and gentle man with upright posture. He has no house, but lives on the ridge on the other side of the freeway. Because Tyler hikes there, he met William before I did.  For years I never even heard his voice; we have simply smiled and nodded at one another. We may be about the same age, but it is hard to tell.   When, by bay area standards, it grew cold, I became concerned. When I next saw him, I mentioned the cold and asked if he needed anything.  As I expected, he shook his head no.  However, he surprised me by replying that it was much colder "down here" and pointed to the sidewalk.  

  

After than, we began saying good morning when we see one another. The dog pays little attention to him and I am grateful for that calm acceptance.  Yesterday was a surprise because William spoke first, and almost excitedly he told me that the grey overcast sky was only down here; from higher up the sky was clear and one could see clear across the bay. I was taken aback, but managed to respond something about the beauty of the bay.  He enthusiastically nodded in agreement.  When I began to walk away,  I said, "Have a great day," a comment I immediately regretted.  Not that I think William cannot have a great day.  Obviously seeing a sparkling bay rather than a gray sky is pretty great.  No, it is that I am tired of that word.  I paused, turned around and said, "Better yet, have a really good day."  He actually grinned and gave me a thumbs up.   

As I walked, I thought about the word good.  It truly seems to imply an unlimited resource.  People do good things all the time.  They tend to their children, help their neighbors, share their food, plant gardens, pick up trash, recycle,  adopt stray animals, recommit themselves to their work, their sobriety, their marriages, their communities.  They embrace new beginnings. They volunteer. They make music and create art. They lend an ear when there is trouble or sorrow. They pray, cry, and laugh with one another. They hold this life as sacred and worth nurturing. The list goes on.  It seems that instead of trying to make America great, we should concentrate on keeping America good.  A good nation resides in the heart of the people.  To feel compelled to be a great nation is a product of ego. Consequently, it instills a hunger that can never be satiated.  With those four words, "Make America Great Again" a campaign slogan launched us on a path that is nationalistic, racist, even fascist.  It is time to pause and rethink who we are as people, not only of this nation, but what it means to be part of humanity. To talk about not what makes us great because that divides and separates us, but rather share what is good, and what can make our communities better for all.  It is time for a richer vocabulary and a better view.   

 

   

#keepingamericagood 

photograph:  Lake Chabot, January 2019

 

Always and Regardless

"Give me the grace, dear God, to adore You for even this I cannot do for myself. "  

This prayer, written by Flannery O'Connor, is from her prayer journal that she kept from January 1946 to September 1947 while she was a student at Iowa State.   The honesty and clarity of this prayer has  has stopped me in my tracks.  I have for some time thought that I should read some of her work again, and this journal seemed a good place to begin.  It is creating in me a longing to sit and talk with her. To talk about her writing, her faith, her illness, her concern that somehow she would lose her faith.  I am reminded of Mercedes, a nun who lives in a memory care home.  Last month when I was telling everyone good-bye, she took my hand and said, "You know, I am one of His wives."  I have been thinking of that statement, and of her deep gratitude that we come and celebrate Communion.  Of her willingness to not be just a beautiful bride, but a dedicated wife, a helpmate, always and regardless. 

   

Today, I think that I do not even know how to serve.  Yet, this morning I hear a quiet voice that says, "Of course you don't. Let me help you."  For me, and I think Flannery O'Connor would agree, that the role of art is to enliven our awareness  so that we see, or at least sense, that there is no presence but God.  Desecration is real and is happening all around, but it is not eternal. We cannot desecrate God.  So, we learn to serve, and we learn to pray.  It is all prayer.         

Sanctuary

Yesterday I as I parked in front of one of the communities I serve, I realized I was a little early.  I decided to pause and peruse the photographs I had taken that morning.  This particular photograph drew me in and as I worked with it, I completely forgot that I was parked on a busy segment of El Camino Real on a Wednesday morning.  At one point I felt I needed to begin over, and when the original image emerged once more, I was surprised. I had also forgotten that I was working with a photograph of a canna lily growing next to a fence.  It was a startling moment. I began again and this photograph was the final outcome.  All of this happened in a time span of less than ten minutes.  

I keep a copy of "You Shall Not Want" compiled by Richard Chilson on my nightstand.  It is an interesting interpretation, complilation, and combination of thirty psalms.  They are not numbered, but are offered in the form of a daily reading. This is still taking me some time to get used to.  However, I am beginning to understand there is freedom in this approach.  This psalm was part of my reading last night and I fell asleep thinking that we often find sanctuary in surprising places. Such grace happens because God is always with us. And yes, sometimes I do see, or at least sense, glory in a flower growing by a fence. 

   

By the way, I did arrive at the community "on time".  

  

Day Fourteen 

O God, you are my God, whom I seek; 

my soul thirsts for you, 

my flesh faints for you, 

as in a dry and weary land where no water is. 

So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, 

beholding your power and glory  

because your steadfast love is better than life, 

my lips will praise you. 

So I will bless you as long as I live; 

I will lift up my hands and call on your name.     

   

photograph:  say, July 2019  

   

A Clear Route

In the dream I have come to a beautiful stone ridge.  

I look out over a land of quiet beauty: 

an expanse of trees and rocks  

that goes on further than I can see.  

 

With me are two women. 

One is almost 100. 

Another is much younger but very ill.  

We have come to do yoga.   

We balance on the stony ledge.  

We are expecting others so 

we look for places on the bluff

where people can balance safely.   

This morning I yearn to feel 

that ridge beneath my feet

and the air all around me.  

Tyler and I actually had plans to stay in Half Moon Bay for a couple of days this week.  The 4th of July is  noisy here and the onslaught of fireworks causes our dog and us much stress.  However, an unexpected car repair bill changed our plans.  Nonetheless, we did to the beach go early on the 4th.  It was surprisingly empty with just a few people who were fishing, a couple of people walking their dogs, some beautiful pelicans, and us.  

When I woke that morning, I did do some yoga, not on a bluff, but in my living room.  I was uncertain about the short hike to get to the beach.  However, that trek is one of my favorite walks, so I decided to take a hiking pole.  It did help, and the trail was beautifully lush.  Part of the makeshift trail down to the beach has eroded, so the pole definitely came in handy. I think I shall take it from now on.    

We began the trip home after lunch, and the traffic heading towards Half Moon Bay was quite heavy, maybe because by then the sun was out. Trips to the beach have always been morning affairs for us.  An easy drive and a quiet overcast morning on the beach suits us just fine.   

We did indeed have a rough night, and today was one of the rare mornings when I went back to bed.  I dreamed of taking a wrong turn, but in the dream I realize I could simply turn back. In the dream there is some construction, but the route is clear.  I woke thinking of a prayer I wrote many years ago.  Somewhere I have this prayer, but it will take awhile to surface.  It is a prayer that gives thanks that even our wrong turns take us to God. There really is nowhere else to go.  I woke giving thanks to the Holy Spirit who brings us forgiveness for all of our wrong turns and poor decisions.  Forgiveness makes a fine compass.   

I do not think I will actually live to be 100. However, I am intrigued by the idea of doing yoga for the rest of my life, including old age.  I am growing stronger, and maybe even a little more flexible (I think I will grow more flexible when I stop thinking about how flexible I used to be!)  The journey continues, and I am grateful.     

    

Blessings to you all. May your vistas be beautiful, and may love and forgiveness always be your traveling companions. 

   

  

I would love to live 

Like a river flows, 

Carried by the surprise 

of its own unfolding.       

   

John O'Donohue, Fluent     

 

Good Morning!

This wonderful quote was the first thing I read this morning. Tyler and I recently watched a show on CuriosityStream about symmetry in nature.  Once you start paying attention, it really is everywhere.  There is some lovely math that helps to describe it, but that is way beyond my comprehension.  For now, I will simply say, "How reasonable it all is!"

"Because of the grace that God gave me, I can say to each one of you: don’t think of yourself more highly than you ought to think. Instead, be reasonable since God has measured out a portion of faith to each one of you."

Romans 12:3 CEB 

Be reasonable! It's not only good for you, it's biblical, and may even be beautifully measurable with some fantastic results.