Value

Between the roofing project and a wave of Covid moving through my small congregation, including our own home, I don't think there was one appointment or plan that I made this week that did not need to be rescheduled or set aside. During the dismantling and reconstruction process our doorbell sounded many times. About the time that I felt I could pause for a few moments, the sound of the bell would beckon me to the front door. Even the Jehovah Witnesses stopped by, and the Witness standing on my porch looked so sad that I felt the tug to pause and converse. As we talked, mostly about his concerns that the world was failing apart, I watched four other Witnesses walk by. I found myself appreciating their modest dress and quiet slow pace. Those few moments were actually a gift that I underestimated at the time. Distractions are many these days, as are concerns. Yet, as I moved through the week, I kept repeating a statement that came to me one afternoon when I was a young woman writing at my table: "Value interruptions." I try to honor those words because I have learned that often in the interrupted moments, I can sense God's Spirit making room in my life for something other than my own small designs that are usually rooted in ego: "This is what I want to do." I recently heard the writer and Zen practitioner, Natalie Goldberg, say in a Zoom lecture that the ego wants to keep us small and safe. I would also add controllable. Yes, there is a difference between an interruption and a distraction. Interruptions can lead us to deeper connections and even growth. Distractions typically do not. Discernment lies in learning to tell them apart.

With life as short as a half taken breath,

don’t plant anything but love.

Rumi

image: San Leandro, July 2024

Presence

 This morning I was perusing the 2023 June issue of Thin Places, a newsletter from the Westminster Presbyterian Church in Minneapolis. I was boldly thinking I could just toss it in recycling, but as it happens so often, I decided to take one more look "just to be sure". I came across a quote by Father Thomas Keating that seemed to fit well with a photograph I took in the backyard on Monday after playing my flute for a few minutes there. The message from Father Keating was: 

"The contemplative vision perceives God fully present in our lives, even in the midst of disaster, turmoil, or personal failure.  It never loses hope because its hope is not based on human events but on the divine goodness, which is infinitely powerful and infinitely merciful..." 

  

The unopened flower seemed to contain some secret writing, and I think that is true of all life on earth. We carry the embedded messages of our ancestors (both positive and negative), of our current lives, and most importantly, the message of Sacred Presence that connects us all. To me this photograph speaks of connection. I needed the light to see it, but even in darkness, messages and connection are there. Guides show up in surprising ways.  I can, at least for a few moments at a time, turn from focusing solely only on human events, many of which I do not even experience directly. Let us all be cautious of what we take in. We do not want to crowd out the wisdom that already resides within.  

Alas, this newsletter is no longer being produced. I shall miss it. It has proven to be a good guide over the years. 

    

     

 

Basil and Rue

 This morning I walked out to the front porch to water a basil and a rue before the sun came up. I know a little about basil, but nothing about rue. Yet when I saw these two at our local nursery, I found them so beguiling that I brought them home. Rue is reported to have medicinal qualities which I will probably never test. As usual, I have been slow to repot these plants, and now the heat wave just seems too intense to subject them to such a dramatic change of venue. My gardening skills are lax which is probably why I like hanging out in other people's gardens. 

As I stepped out on the porch with water pitcher in hand, I noticed a small reddish spider spinning or perhaps re-spinning its web. The spider is so small I could not see the web. Her tiny legs, which seemed more like arms to me, moved patiently in a slowly increasing circle. It was as if she was playing a harp that I could neither see nor hear. I took comfort in those few moments of listening to that which could not be heard, and watching what could not be fully seen. 

​The sounds of the stream

   splash out
      the Buddha's sermon

Don't say
   that the deepest meaning
      comes only from one's mouth

Day and night
   eighty thousand poems
      arise one after the other

and in fact
   not a single word
      has ever been spoken

~ Musō Soseki, translated by W. S. Merwin

        

 

Discovering Light

 Yesterday I definitely hit a low ebb. The weather is getting hotter, and may stay hot for a while. The national news is worrisome and deeply disappointing. Yet, in the midst of languishing in my boggy   malaise, I thought of a note that a friend and colleague sent me a few weeks ago about a course being offered by the Center for Spirituality in Nature. I was interested at the time, but my computer was not working, and then I simply forgot. Yesterday, I signed up for the self-paced course.

The creators of the course recommended that I find some natural spot close to where I live, and visit it every day and simply sit. I will keep my eye out for such a spot. Yet, for now, while they may not be completely natural, it is my garden, and some of the gardens around me that give me a sense of the sacred. So yesterday, I took my flute and sat in the backyard and simply played my prayer of thanks. Today, I walked in the neighborhood. This, as most of you know, I have done for years.
I was making my way home when I spotted some flowers aglow in light. I had to look closer. While I knew the blossoms were actually reflecting light, the light appeared to be shining from within the plant. The air was alive with the sound of bees. I knew I was seeing and hearing creation, and yes, creation is still good, even "supremely good" (Genesis 1:31 Common English Bible).

As I sit and ponder this photograph, I feel a longing to be part of the song of light of this time. For that, I am grateful. I will try to continue on, with eyes wide open, reflecting as best I can.    


Something Big is Coming

Something big is coming.
It’s still a secret, but arriving everywhere.
The atmosphere is charged with longing and searching.
The pilgrims and the mystery-lovers know.
They are gathering now
The sound of prayer drifts across the dawn.
It’s Muslim, Jew, Christian
All mingled
All religions
All this singing
One Song.
The differences are just illusion and vanity.
The sunlight looks a little different on this wall
Than it does on that.
And a lot different on this other one.
But it’s still one light.
We have borrowed these clothes
These time and place personalities
From a Light.
And when we praise,
We’re pouring them back in.

Rumi