Glimpses

 When Tyler got home from work yesterday, we sat in the backyard for a bit, watching and listening to a flock of tiny birds that have been visiting.  They are very busy, and they converse constantly.  They make me smile, and I am smiling now as I think of them.  Because the trees are bare I can sometimes get a glimpse of them as they pause a moment before dashing off to another yard.

This morning's sky is clear with a large full moon still in sight.  I am content.

   

  

THAT LIVES IN US   

 

If you put your hands on this oar with me, 

they will never harm another, and they will come to find

they hold everything you want.  

 

If you put your hands on this oar with me, they would no longer 

lift anything to your 

mouth that might wound your precious land -

that sacred earth that is your body.  

 

If you put your soul against this oar with me, 

the power that made the universe will enter your sinew 

from a source not outside your limbs, but from a holy realm 

that lives in us.  

  

Exuberant is existence, time a husk. 

When the moment cracks open, ecstacy leaps out and devors space; 

love goes mad with the blessings, like my words give.  

  

Why lay yourself on the torturer's rack of the past and future? 

The mind that tries to shape tomorrow beyond it capacities 

will find no rest. 

  

Be kind to yourself, dear - to our innocent follies.  

Forget any sounds or touch you knew that did not help you dance.  

You will come to see that all evolves us.     

    

Rumi 

Love Poems from God, Daniel Ladinksky      

     

  

Christian Meditation through Lent: 

2:30 Tuesdays 

7:30 p.m. Wednesdays

You are welcome to join anytime.       

 

photograph:  San Leandro, February 2021

Praying Psalm 25

"Make known to me your ways, O God;
    teach me your paths.
Guide me by your fidelity and teach me,
    for you are God my savior,
    for you I wait all the day long.
 Remember your compassion and your mercy, O Lord,
    for they are ages old.
 Remember no more the sins of my youth;
    remember me according to your mercy,
    because of your goodness, Lord."   

 Psalm 25:4-7 

  

  

Even after reading this beautiful Psalm in an afternoon worship on Sunday, I experienced some restlessness and frustration yesterday that almost upended me.  Yet, this morning as I woke from a jumbled dream of people and objects and tasks to be done,  I heard  the words, "Stay open."   I shall try to obey this voice of Wisdom. Hearing Her did bring some sense of equilibrium and peace.   

 

This photograph is one that almost did not happen.  This succulent is common in our neighborhood, and I have several pictures of them.  However, I was intrigued by the angle.  I have entitled this photograph "Growth".   I am reminded that growth is ongoing, and can appear disorderly.  Yet all of life has its own wisdom and order, including mine.  Holy One, please forgive my transgressions and show me how to make amends. 

 

The wind is blowing.  I think of M. who sleeps tucked away  on a nearby ridge.  How long he has lived outdoors I do not know.  He is a quiet, private man, yet he always greets us when we see him at the bus stop.  While I know he will smile and  say no, I continue to ask if he needs anything.   A few nights ago I heard coyotes. No doubt M. knows their paths.      

 

We all journey on. May we follow Wisdom's guidance and journey in peace. 

 

" Her ways are pleasant ways, 

and all her paths are peace. 

She is a tree of life to those who grasp her 

and he is happy who holds her fast."  

  

Proverbs 3:17-18       

 

Cutting Brambles, Bearing Fruit

 Cut brambles long enough, 

Sprout after sprout, 

And the lotus will bloom 

of its own accord: 

Already waiting in the clearing, 

The single image of light. 

The day you see this, 

That day you will become it.    

 

 Sun-Bu-er (1124-?)     

  

I suppose I first came across this poem when I was in seminary, but I do not remember.   It recently returned to my mind in a discussion with my Qigong instructor.  While Sun-Bu-er was Taoist, not Christian, her poem seems appropriate for the Lenten journey.   I always have a sense of God waiting for us.  While our paths are sometimes filled with thorny brambles, with intent we can  make our way.   Jesus, too, spoke of pruning:  "I am the true vine, and my Father is the vineyard keeper. He removes any of my branches that don't produce fruit, and he trims any branch that produces fruit so that it will produce even more fruit (John 15:1)."  

  

That clearing is where all can recognize that we are one.       

  

If you would like to join me for  Lenten Meditation, drop me a note and I will send you the link.  Two times will be offered:  Tuesdays at 2:30 and Wednesdays at 7:00 p.m. , beginning February 23.  We will settle in with a short reading, sit 20 minutes in silence, and then have a few minutes of discussion and prayer.   You are welcome to join anytime.      

  

Love and Blessings on your journey,  

Sue Ann   

    

image:  San Leandro, February 2020 

A Poem in Preparation for Ash Wednesday

 It Is Enough 

To know that the atoms
of my body
will remain
to think of them rising
through the roots of a great oak
to live in
leaves, branches, twigs
perhaps to feed the
crimson peony
the blue iris
the broccoli
or rest on water
freeze and thaw
with the seasons
some atoms might become a
bit of fluff on the wing
of a chickadee
to feel the breeze
know the support of air
and some might drift
up and up into space
star dust returning from
whence it came
it is enough to know that
as long as there is a universe
I am a part of it.
 
~ Anne Alexander Bingham   

First Sip   

    

A week or so ago, I posted a poem by Rabia that suggested that we have a personal name for God. I have taken refuge in that poem and the name that came to me the following morning.  For Ash Wednesday, I suggest that we write a letter to God, addressing God by this personal name.  In the letter we can tell  God what we want to let go of, and where we need help.  Let us try to be honest, but hopefully, we can sign our  name with love, knowing it is okay if we cannot. Then, if you like, you can burn the letter or tear it up.   If you would like these remnants blessed,  the San Lorenzo Church will be holding an Ash Wednesday service at 7:00 p.m.  You can then release them as you see fit.  Let me know if you would like the Zoom link.  You are welcome to join us for this short service.     

   

The photograph is from a few years ago but I do not remember the location.  I like the idea of releasing my ashes, or even having my own ashes released,  in a field of poppies.  Yes, that would be enough.

       

Deep Listening

 I have come across this quote from Father Laurence Freeman twice in as many days.  It is from his book, First Sight, page 87 and 88 (copyright 2011).  

   

"First sight is seeing what is. Deep listening is an act of radical obedience to what is. Obedience means more than just doing what you are told. It is becoming the truth that you hear. The Latin obaudire links listening to obedience. St. Benedict speaks of ' obedience without delay' as the means of uniting the mind of the disciple with that of the master...     The 'kingdom of heaven' or the 'reign of God' are the gospel terms for union with God and others in the fully developed form of love without boundaries called 'agape'.   Father Freeman continues by saying, "Union, once it is uncovered, is boundless...Peace means the acceptance of the freedom from limitations."   He refers to this as "being infinitely stretched into nothingness."  

 

In our society, where people clamor to be heard and recognized, it is easy to become suspicious of, and even reject such an  idea. Yet Father Freeman reminds us that what inhabits us is expanding endlessly. God knows no boundaries, and that limitless is our destination,  and where we already are.  If it helps, think of  your soul as a beautiful, ever expanding mandala, or perhaps a blossom that never stops blooming.   

   

I am looking forward to sitting in meditation with others during Lent.  If you are interested, please send me a note.  Two times will be offered on Zoom:  Tuesdays at 2:30 and Wednesdays at 7:30 p.m.  Pacific Time.  We will start with a reading then sit in silence for twenty minutes.  We will follow with a short period of discussion and prayer.    

     

Blessings on your ever expanding  journey.     

    

photograph: San Leandro, February 2021

Care In Handling

LIKE ROOTS 

Our hands imbibe like roots, 

so I place them on what is beautiful in this world. 

   

And I fold them in prayer, and they 

draw from the heavens 

light.   

     

St. Francis of Assisi 

Love Poems from God, Daniel Ladinsky     

 

   

photograph:  San Leandro, February 2021  

I love this plant.  It has been in the neighborhood, I think,  less than five years - time is not easy to keep track of during the pandemic.  When the weather is warm and the sun is bright, bees visit.  Such a joy to see.  Yes, heaven's light.     

     

The Temple Door

 I was speaking with a friend yesterday and I mentioned that Daniel Ladinsky's book, Love Poems from God included poems attributed to St. Francis.  I expressed my  surprise, saying I did not think of St. Francis as a poet.  She reminded me of his singing to Brother Sun and Sister Moon and other canticles.  

 The poems are lovely, and I am finding them humbling.  Like good conversations, dreams, and prayers, poems can open the doors to our soul. There God is.      

    

NO ONE KNOWS HIS NAME 

  

No one 

knows his name - 

a man who lives on the streets 

and walks around in rags. 

 

Once I saw that man in a dream. 

He and God were constructing 

an extraordinary 

temple.     

 

The poet Rabia suggested that everyone should have a secret name for God.  I have long wrestled with how to address God,  particularly when I am preaching and praying in public.  Yet, the idea of a private name stayed with me, and this morning I woke with that name in my heart.  I am grateful.  Yes, it is a name that has been with me all along. I just never heard it calling.  

  

   

photograph:  San Leandro, February 2021      

    

   

Oh My Soul

 As I was reviewing my photographs yesterday, the one that is attached seemed so appropriate for the poet, Rabia.   Yesterday I was also asked if I would speak with a woman who is ill.  I, of course, agreed.  The woman told me she was Pentecost and asked if I ever spoke in tongues.  No, I responded.  She did not seem to hold that against me, and we had a sweet conversation.  This morning I am reminded that the soul knows many languages, many ways of expressing its sacredness and its love.  

    

In My Soul  

In 

my soul 

there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church 

where I kneel. 

   

Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist. 

 

Is there not a region of love where the sovereignty is 

illumined nothing, 

  

where ecstasy gets poured into itself 

and becomes 

lost, 

 

where the wing is fully alive 

but has no mind or 

body?

  

In  

my soul 

there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, 

a church

 

that dissolve, that 

dissolve in God.    

 

Rabia 

Love Poems from God, Daniel Ladinsky   

  

photograph:  San Leandro, February, 2020   

    

Please let me know if you are interested in joining me for Lenten Centering Prayer.  We will have two weekly sessions via Zoom:  Tuesdays at 2:30 p.m. and Wednesdays at 7:00 p.m.   You are welcome to come when you can.   

Released

 This poem by Rabia is a gift for those of us who feel that our creativity is ebbing.   When I first read it, I smiled. I am smiling now.  I believe I am a little freer to love.  I am reminded of Brother Lawrence finding God among the pots and pans of his monastery.  I think of Martha, and want to  say, "I will help. Thank you."  Not to turn away from Jesus, but to pray.    

Daniel Landisky writes that Rabia of Basra (c. 717-801) was born into poverty in ancient Mesopotamia.  Supposedly her father had a dream where the Prophet Muhammad appeard to him and advised him that his daughter would be revered as a saint.  However, she would become separated from her parents, and eventually sold to a brothel.  There she lived and worked until she was 50 when she was given her freedom. She  then devoted her life to meditation and prayer.  It is said she had the ability to heal others. Of her time in the brothel she wrote, "What a place for trials and transformation did my Lover put me, but never once did He look upon me as if I were impure. Dear sisters, all we do in this world, whatever happens, is bringing us closer to God."   

   

Slicing Potatoes  

 

It helps, 

putting my hands on a pot, on a broom, 

in a wash 

pail.   

  

I 

tried painting, 

but it was easier to fly slicing 

potatoes.     

   

Love Poems from God, Daniel Ladinsky   

photograph: San Leandro, January 2021     

   

   

    

If you are interested in taking part in Christian Meditation during Lent, let me know.  Two sessions a week will be offered: Tuesday afternoons and Wednesday evenings. Specific details to follow, but if you think one of these might fit your schedule,  you would be most welcome.