I spent the afternoon cutting and pasting.
And praying.
At first, the task seemed mindless. I had decided to put together journals for the guided labyrinth walks I am leading in the next few days. I wrote prompts for each part of the labyrinth and then cut and pasted them into small journals the participants can carry with them as they walk the labyrinth. I started the project the previous day, but hadn't finished it and, I admit, I was a bit frustrated about that.
After all, I had planned to spend the afternoon working on my spiritual memoir, but there I was cutting and pasting and getting my fingers sticky and scraps of paper were drifting to the floor around my desk. What had seemed like a good idea, a creative idea, began to feel more like a chore.
But somewhere along the way--maybe journal #3, I noticed a change. I started cutting more slowly, more deliberately and less frantically. I started pasting the small slips of paper into the journal in a gentler way, smoothing the paper, almost caressing each page.
I thought about the people who will be walking the labyrinth, wondering what cares or questions or yearnings they will bring with them. I thought about all the feet that have walked the labyrinth we will use and hoped they have found some peace, some insights, some grace along the way.
I thought about the privilege of accompanying others on their journey, about the stories I hear, the hopes and dreams shared, the joys and the sorrows expressed, the depth of seeking for connection, for awareness of the movement of God.
As I completed each journal, I whispered, "Amen."
After I put away the scissors, the glue stick, the ruler, and cleaned up my work space, space I realized had been an altar for a short period of time, I opened Celtic Treasure by J. Philip Newell to reread the prayer from this morning's devotion time.
Open our eyes to see your Spirit in all life.
Open our hearts to receive the blessing that
is in all created things.
Guide us with your wisdom, O God,
in the handling of matter,
in the sharing of earth's resources
and in the knowing of one another,
your Spirit within every living spirit.
What had felt mindless to me, had become a time of mindfulness.
An Invitation
What mindless activities can become a time of prayer in your life? I would love to know.
Last Sunday a friend and I presented a talk about mindfulness at church. We started by inviting the group to enter into the time and space with a brief breathing exercise by Thich Nhat Hanh:
Breathing in, I calm my body.
Breathing out, I smile.
Dwelling in the present moment,
I know this is a wonderful moment.
I invite you to breathe gently in and out as you read these words or say them to yourself. Feel any different?
The fullness of joy is to behold God in everything.
Julian of Norwich
As you look ahead to this day when could you pause for a mindfulness moment? For example, can you imagine standing at the door before leaving the house, and giving thanks for the gifts in your life? Can you imagine sending your loved ones off to their day with a blessing?
Where are the natural transitions in your day and how could you transition more mindfully?
Keep you heart in wonder at the daily miracles
of your life.
Kahlil Gibran
What are the obstacles in your life which prevent you from living more more mindfully? With greater awareness?
How we live our days is how we live our lives.
Annie Dillard
Today is Thankful Thursday, but every day includes an invitation to live and love mindfully.
Faithful Friday
Sacred Saturday
Sabbath Sunday
Mindful Monday
Tranquil Tuesday
Watchful Wednesday
An Invitation
When are you most mindful? I would love to know.
Two stories.
1. Sunday morning, Valentine's Day, I head to the lower level to take a shower. I would have preferred to sleep in late this morning, but I am one of the presenters at adult forum between services at church, and we will go to the early service first. I have prepared my brief talk, a quick three minute one, and am not nervous, but nonetheless that is on my mind. I walk through the kitchen and down the stairs. I take my shower and dress and walking through the kitchen again, I return to the first floor bathroom where I put on my make-up.
Great--I have time for a bowl of cereal before we need to leave for church. It is then, only then, I notice something new in the kitchen, the teeny, tiny kitchen I have walked through twice already this morning. On the window sill over the sink are four small red pots filled with fluffy, fresh herbs. A Valentine's Day present from my forever Valentine. How could I have missed them?
2. Monday afternoon I get in the car to drive to a friend's apartment. We will meet to plan a talk on mindfulness we have been asked to give at church. Yes, mindfulness. As I drive the familiar Mississippi River Boulevard, cross the river on the Ford Parkway Bridge into Minneapolis and then turn towards Minnehaha Falls Park and the route I take when I drive to my father's apartment in Edina, I think about how much I love that drive. And about the intentional decision I made quite sometime ago to choose that route, although longer, rather than taking the freeway. The changing river, little traffic, beautiful old homes, trees and green space now covered in winter white. A mindful decision, until I realize my destination this afternoon is not my father's apartment, but Ruth's apartment. I needed to take a left in the park, instead of a right.
I laugh at myself and resolve once again to "begin again," as I think St Benedict said. I wasn't mindful. I wasn't present to the present moment, but I have yet another chance to begin again and to practice awareness. To wake up and be mindful.
Mindfulness is not mysterious or magical nor is it something one accomplishes and can check off one's life or bucket list. Every moment is another chance to practice.
In a way when we stir ourselves awake from a mindless moment, we are offered a gift. Now every time I walk into our kitchen, I smile at the cheery green herbs in their red pots and think about the considerate. loving nature of my Valentine. And the next time I drive the familiar route I suspect I will pay more attention to where I am going and what I am seeing. A good thing.
An Invitation
What has jolted you into a mindful moment recently? When have you realized you weren't mindful? I would love to know.
Every morning as I climb the stairs to my garret for my meditation time, I pause and look out the windows towards the back yard. My first pause of the day. Thanks to the Head Gardener at our house, the view is one of evolving beauty and joy, and in this brief pause I offer thanks for the gift of another day and for the privilege I have of sharing my life with someone who shares his gifts so abundantly.
I sit in my comfortable chair and read a chapter in my current devotional book, pausing periodically to reread words that resonate or words that puzzle me or words that just bear repeating. "Generating joy, we enter and offer joy. Generating peace, we enter and offer peace. Generating stillness, we enter and offer equanimity." The Grace in Aging, Awaken As You Grow Older, Kathleen Dowling Singh http://www.kathleendowlingsingh.com
I meditate, intentional pausing, taking deep breaths, finding my own rhythm. I note where my thoughts land, and I attempt to ease them from the space at least for the moment. I sit quietly a few minutes longer, lifting names or concerns or gratitudes in prayer. I open my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling a bit more prepared for the day.
I move to my desk to check my email, and today Isee the name of a dear friend from another time of my life. We don't communicate often, but there is a heart connection. I pause and hold loving thoughts of her. Soon I will create a pause in the day in which to write to her.
It is tempting to stay at my desk and begin the day's writing, but instead, I head outside for my morning walk. I know the main purpose of my walk is exercise, but it seems I find many reasons to pause --sometimes in praise of someone's gardening talents or just to appreciate an interesting looking home. Sometimes I pause to send a blessing, if a home looks neglected or if I hear sounds of children in their early morning exuberance.
One house I pass frequently seems to my judging eyes in need of care, but I often hear through the open windows the sound of someone playing a guitar and singing softly. I pause to check my need to fill in the blanks, to understand and make sense of why this house looks so shabby and uncared for and yet, there is music being made there. All that is asked of me in this present moment is to whisper, "May all be well."
I continue through my day, writing the next post for this blog, working on a chapter for my book, answering emails, giving feedback to the members of my small group in the online writing class I am taking, perhaps doing some laundry, making a trip to the grocery store, checking in with my Dad, having casual conversations with Bruce as he goes through his own agenda for the day, fixing dinner, and so it goes. I respond to what the day brings, and if I am mindful, I pause now and then.
In those brief, barely noticeable moments of pause, I become more present. I clear the space. I open my heart. Singh refers to "sublime abiding." I love that term. In the pause I hold everything a bit lighter.
Last evening after dinner I took a book and went to our sanctuary side garden we call Cotswold. I had thought about returning to my desk in the garret to write, for I had not completed my self-assigned writing assignment, but instead I had paused at the bottom of the stairs. I listened, just listened, and I think I heard the hydrangeas growing at the base of our front steps. I think I heard the sweet statue of the little girl adjust her position just a bit. I heard the moment call to me, "Come sit and be."
And that's what I did.
An Invitation
When do you pause? What happens when you do? I would love to know.
During communion on Palm Sunday we sang this chant,
Stay with me. Remain here with me.
Watch and pray. Watch and pray.
These words commemorate when Jesus went to Gethsemane to pray. He asked his disciples, according to the 14th chapter of Mark, to "Sit here while I pray….remain here, and keep awake." Of course, they fell asleep, "for their eyes were very heavy." The disciples intended to fully support their teacher during his time of great need, but they were tired, too, and overwhelmed by the loss that was to come.
I remember the night my mother died, 12 years ago this Easter, and how the night seemed to go on and on. She didn't seem in distress, but clearly, she was no longer fully with us. I wondered how long we would need to wait till death overcame her. The waiting was hard. I was tired from all the previous days, weeks, and yes, months of watching and waiting, and yet, it didn't seem enough to just be there at her bedside with my father and sister. It didn't seem enough to stay there with her, remain there with her, to watch and pray, watch and pray. And yet, that was what was asked of me, and what I knew I needed to do for her and for myself.
That was one time I managed to stay awake, to be steadfast, but I wonder about other times I have missed--not just the moment of someone's death, but the more ordinary passages in our life.
When have I not been awake enough to hear what someone is trying to tell me?
When have I not been awake enough to listen patiently and with the ears of my heart?
When have I missed opportunities to be with someone who simply needed a presence?
When have I chosen to end something prematurely, instead of letting events unfold?
When have I attempted to control and dictate my own timetable, instead of surrendering to the unknown?
When have I not been awake to my own needs and have not listened to my inner voice?
Here's what Thich Nhat Hanh says in his book The Art of Communicating. http://plumvillage.org/about/thich-nhat-hanh/
In daily life we're disconnected from ourselves. We
walk, but we don't know that we're walking. We're
here, but we don't know that we're here. We're alive,
we don't know that we're alive. Throughout the day, we
lose ourselves. To stop and communicate with yourself
is a revolutionary act. You sit down and stop that state
of being lost, of not being yourself. You begin by just
stopping whatever you're doing, sitting down, and
connecting with yourself. This is called mindfulness
awareness. Mindfulness is full awareness of the present
moment. p. 15
Mindfulness lets us listen to the pain, the sorrow, and
the fear inside. When we see that some suffering or some
pain is coming up, we don't try to run away from it. In
fact, we have to go back and take care of it. We're not
afraid of being overwhelmed, because we know how to
breathe and how to walk so as to generate energy of
mindfulness to recognize and take care of the suffering.
If you have enough mindfulness generated by the practice
of mindful breathing and walking, you're no longer
afraid to be with yourself. p. 21
When the energy of compassion is born, right away
we suffer less. When we suffer less, when we have
compassion for ourselves, we can more easily
understand the suffering of another person and of
the world. Then our communication with others will
be based on the desire to understand rather than the
desire to prove ourselves right or make ourselves
feel better. We will have only the intention to help.
p. 31.
What does the practice of mindfulness have to do with staying, remaining, watching and praying? It has everything to do with it, I think. Being mindful means being awake and when we are awake, we know what it is we are asked to do for ourselves and for others. We know how to be with one another and with our own suffering.
Sometimes the chant -- Stay with me. Remain here with me. Watch and pray. Watch and pray. -- is a plea to us from someone we love or maybe know only somewhat. Or it may be a call from people whom we know not at all. Or the entreaty may come from within ourselves. How will you respond?
To listen to the Taize chant Stay with Me, follow this link https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmAOcHqvS0Q
An Invitation
When have you been invited to stay, remain, watch and pray? How have you responded? And when have you needed someone to stay, remain, watch and pray, and how was that need answered? I would love to know.
One of my first tasks of the day is to open the shades in the entry and dining room, just as one of the last tasks of the day is to close the shades. If I am aware, that simple homey gesture becomes a time of prayer --morning and night time prayers, bookending the day.
Thank you for a restful night's sleep
and for the grace
of a new day. May I move through it
in openness and with love and
compassion.
Thank you for the gift of the day now ending. I am
grateful for the many riches I have received today.
Forgive me for the ways I have been more closed than
open. May the rest I receive tonight lead me to be present
to the light that flows within and around me.
It is possible for most anything we do to become a spiritual practice, especially "If you approach it in the right way--with intentionality, humility, receptivity, hope. And of course with an attentive eye on the activity of the divine." (The Sacred Year, Michael Yankoski, p. 12) http://www.michaelyankoski.com/#sthash.YQXNbcQ3.dpbs
I can be intentional about being present to activities I enjoy and welcome doing, no matter how ordinary. For example, I enjoy most aspects of home tending, even cleaning bathrooms and kitchens. I start dinner in the evening and as I chop and stir and simmer I can give thanks for this daily sustenance, and I pray for all those who go hungry. I can sweep the front steps and breathe in the glories of the sun or the crispness of the air. At the ironing board I can smooth the creases in my husband's shirts and be grateful for the love we share. I can put away the books and papers accumulated in my office over the days and feel such gratitude for the freedom I have to read and write for hours on end. I can and do pray my way through the day--as long as it goes smoothly, and I am doing something I enjoy doing.
What happens, however, when I am doing something that I don't enjoy doing? I don't like to vacuum or lug bags of groceries in from the car and then unpack them. I am not crazy about folding the laundry or changing the bed. I get frustrated when I am doing errands and I get stuck in traffic or when I am not able to find what I need in the grocery store. Viewing those times as an opportunity for spiritual practice usually doesn't occur to me. However, I know that by filling my life with intentional spiritual practices which simply put are "ways of seeing and being in the world that help us wake up and become fully, truly alive." (Fully Awake and Truly Alive, Spiritual Practices to Nurture Your Soul, Rev. Jane Vennard, p. xviii) http://www.sdiworld.org/resources/educational-videos/reverend-jane-e-vennard I am more likely to ground myself in light and love when hit with times of stress, fear, grief and loss.
Father Thomas Keating who teaches the spiritual practice of centering prayer http://www.centeringprayer.com says, "The only way to judge your practice is by its long-range fruits: whether in daily life you enjoy greater peace, humility and charity." Who doesn't want to live a more loving and compassionate life?
Examples of Spiritual Practices
When considering spiritual practices, most people think about reading the Bible or praying at certain times of the day. Or meditating. I write in my journal, and that is one of my main spiritual practices, but I also walk a labyrinth when I can and in the past one of my main spiritual practices was doing Tai Chi. Meeting with a spiritual director is a spiritual practice, as is going on retreats or a pilgrimage.
But what about making music, baking bread, pulling weeds, cleaning your house, driving a parent to a doctor's appointment, volunteering at your grandchild's school, sitting with a friend who is recovering from surgery, attending a yoga class, reading or writing poetry, walking along the river every morning?
Barbara Brown Taylor http://www.barbarabrowntaylor.com wrote a wonderful book called An Altar in the World, A Geography of Faith says, "No one's spiritual practice is exactly like anyone else's. Life meets each of us where we need to be met, leading us to the doors with our names on them."
If what you do at any moment opens you to the fullness of life and fills your heart with love and compassion and gratitude and a new awareness of our own essence, you are in the midst of a spiritual practice. How exciting is that?
Vennard writes about on-cushion and off-cushion practices, (p. xx) using Buddhist language. On-cushion practices are the more structured and formal practices and in the Buddhist tradition that would be meditation time. Off-cushion practices are spontaneous and informal and can happen and be available to us at any time, for in any moment there is the opportunity to be mindful. I think, as does Vennard, that a combination of both off and on-cushion practices are necessary to live a fully awakened life, and one leads to the other which leads back to the other and so on. A wonderful circular energy.
Barbara Brown Taylor adds further illumination about on-cushion and off-cushion spiritual practices, although she doesn't use those words. She writes about practices of walking the earth, getting lost, encountering others, living with purpose, feeling pain, and other ways of living fully. This is what she says about living her life as a spiritual practice.
My life depends on engaging the most ordinary physical
activities with the most exquisite attention I can give
them. My life depends on ignoring all touted distinctions
between the secular and the sacred, the physical and the
spiritual, the body and the soul. What is saving my life
now is becoming more fully human, trusting that there
is no way to God apart from real life in the real world.
p. xv
Yes and Amen.
An Invitation
What on-cushion spiritual practices are part of your life? What do you do in your ongoing day-to day existence that with greater focus and intention could become off-cushion practices? In what ways can you fill your life with spiritual practices? I would love to know.
Here's my gift for you today, as passed on to me by a good friend -a list to live by, a list to challenge and encourage you, as you deepen your awareness of who you were created to be.
Seven Things Mindful People Do Differently
1. Approach everyday things with curiosity --and savor them.
2. Forgive their mistakes --big or small.
3. Show gratitude for good moments --and grace for bad ones.
4. Practice compassion and nurture connections.
5. Make peace with imperfection --inside and out.
6. Embrace vulnerability by trusting others --and themselves.
7. Accept --and appreciate -- that things come and go.
http://elishagoldstein.com/books/the-now-effect/
Now let's change the words just a bit, making them your own.
Seven Things I Do To Be Mindful
1. I approach everyday things with curiosity --and savor them.
2. I forgive myself for my own mistakes --big or small.
3. I show gratitude for good moments --and grace for bad ones.
4. I practice compassion and nurture connections.
5. I make peace with my own imperfections --inside and out.
6. I embrace vulnerability by trusting others --and myself.
7. I accept --and appreciate -- that things come and go.
Read the list aloud and listen to yourself as you read them. How does the change from the third person to the first change the meaning of this list for you? Is there anything on the list that causes you to pause. "Whoops, I'm not so good at forgiving myself." Or perhaps, I judge first and often, instead of compassion being my default response.
Think about yesterday and how mindful were you as you moved through the day. What did you savor and what did you take for granted? Where might there be room for some additional mindfulness in your life?
Ok, one more change. Let's imagine someone is describing you and how mindful you are.
Seven Things You Do To Be Mindful
1. You approach everyday things with curiosity --and savor them.
2. You forgive yourself for your mistakes --big or small.
3. You show gratitude for good moments --and grace for bad ones.
4. You practice compassion and nurture connections.
5. You make peace with your imperfections --inside and out.
6. You embrace vulnerability by trusting others --and yourself.
7. You accept --and appreciate -- that things come and go.
Are you blushing with the recognition for a life lived mindfully or are you cringing inside, knowing you have a long way to go to be considered mindful? Which of these sentences feel true to you and which ones false?
Reread numbers 2 and 5. Forgive yourself and make peace with your imperfections.
This list is not a test. Instead, this list is an open door to living more mindfully. We each have the opportunity each day to live with a wide heart; a heart that is so big there is no choice, but to be curious, forgiving, grateful, compassionate, peaceful, trusting, and accepting. Make the list your spiritual practice.
An Invitation
Try using this list as your morning litany. Recite it out loud before you begin your day. Perhaps every day focus on one of the numbers --maybe the one that feels the hardest for you. What happens? I would love to know.
Sunday morning before getting up and ready for the day I finished reading our current book club selection, Only the Dead by Norwegian author Vidar Sundstol. I has happy to finish the book, for it had not been particularly satisfying, especially since it is the second part of a trilogy, and there are many questions yet to be answered. We will discuss this book and the first in the series, The Land of Dreams, at our next gathering. As always, I look forward to being with our book group because I know I will understand and probably appreciate more about the books than I currently do. Those lively discussions broaden my perspective and encourage me to read more carefully and critically, and that increases my reading pleasure.
As I finished the last page of the book that morning, I realized I didn't know what I was going to read next. That is not normal for me and was a bit unsettling. True, I am in the midst of reading other books, but they fulfill other functions. I am reading a couple books as part of my meditation time and a book while I am on the exercycle and a book about writing as part of my writing routine, and I am reading Azar Nafisi's The Republic of Imagination: America in Three Books on a here and there basis, but what novel will I pick up next? What book will I read when I put my feet up on the ottoman in the room we call the snuggery and what book will I carry with me to bed to read before lights out? What book will I eagerly turn to when I need a break from the day's list?
I recently read two engrossing books, The Paying Guests by Sarah Walters and Florence Gordon by Brian Morton, and sometimes after such absorption, it is hard to make a transition into the next book. Of course, it is not as if I didn't have choices in front of me. I have piles of books waiting to be read and a long list of books on my iPhone I want to read. Just the other day I requested a few titles from the library, but there are other people ahead of me in the queue for each title. I didn't have them in my hands.
What to do? First, I gathered a stack of possible books and sat with each one. I read the back cover and the inside flap and I read the first page or two or three. Yes, there were good possibilities, but nothing grabbed me solidly. It was time for a step back. A deep breath. I entered a time of discernment.
Now I know choosing the next book to read is not on the same level as making decisions about when or where to retire and what to do when retirement is a reality. This is not in the category of life-changing decisions we made earlier in our lives--whether or not to have children, for example, or which career path to follow, but more and more I realize that even the small decisions in my life offer opportunities to listen, to pay attention, to receive guidance from the movement of Spirit.
I have been reading about discernment for a writing project, making me aware of how the process of discernment lives in my life. The word "discernment" comes from the Latin word discernerer: dis meaning "to separate" and cerenere, "to sift." On a minor level that's what we do when we choose the next book to read, but when the decision has greater import, such as whether or not to say yes to a volunteer opportunity or to put your house on the market and downsize into a condo, the process of discernment has more relevance.
As part of my research about discernment I read an article called "Seek Your Calling and Your Calling Will Seek You: Exploring Discernment as a Way of Life (Presence, An International Journal of Spiritual Direction Volume 18, no. 1, March, 2012) in which Monika Ellis, OSD, says one can develop a skill set for discernment by creating space to be with oneself, making time to center and connect to our inner depths, and being quiet in order to listen. When one does that,
Discernment eventually becomes a way of living, a way
of walking with one's heart, ears and eyes wide open, all
in readiness for receiving God… p. 41
As I intentionally develop the skills and context for discernment, I hope I will become more aware of what is going on inside, and how to uncover what to accept and when to create change. How to move forward and what to release. JaneVennard http://www.spiritualityandpractice.com/teachers/teachers.php?id=307 in her book Fully Awake and Truly Alive, Spiritual Practices to Nurture Your Soul says,
I used to think that discernment was problem solving
with a spiritual dimension. I thought we were simply
to include God in the process of rational decision
making. We might consult others and gather as much
information as possible and then pray for clarity. Or we
could list everything in favor of one possibility, list
everything against it, and then pray for guidance. I
have discovered that discernment is much more than
learning to make wise decisions.
The practice of discernment is the willingness to
listen deeply, engaging the body, mind, and feelings
to help us pay attention to the possibilities and choices
before us. It is more about being receptive than about
taking action. Spiritual writer Wendy Wright imagines
discernment as the movement of the sunflower turning
to the sun… or like being grasped in the spirit's arms
and led in the rhythms of an unknown dance. p.132
Perhaps discernment is another word for mindfulness. I don't know, but it seems to me that when I attend to the process of discernment, I move closer to the person I was created to be. May it be so.
An Invitation
When have you invited the process of discernment into your life? Are you making room in your life for quiet, for time and space to be alone and connect with yourself? What are the fruits of doing that for you? Are you considering a decision, a potential change, or call in your life? If so, how are you approaching it and what spiritual practices are you using to lighten and enlighten you? I would love to know.
Oh, and by the way, Sunday afternoon my husband and I spent time at Birchbark Books, http://birchbarkbooks.com a wonderful independent bookstore in Minneapolis owned by the acclaimed author Louise Erdrich, and I spotted a book I had purchased a month or so ago, but had not read yet. In that moment The Children Act by Ian McEwan moved to the top of the pile, a most worthy selection. Needless to say, we didn't leave the store without additional books for our existing piles. Happy reading!
The other day my husband tempted me away from my desk with an invitation to take a drive. "Maybe we'll find pumpkins." He did not need to say one more thing. Besides, it was a gorgeous fall day, and I had already been at my desk for a chunk of the morning and after all, how many more days will we have to ride in his little car with the top down?
Off we went, and of course, we did find pumpkins. I asked the owner of the pumpkin patch and apple orchard if it is a good pumpkin year and he said quietly, "I am grateful for what we have." Ah, yes, to be grateful for what we have.
I restrained myself, only adding to my pile of small orange and white ones for one of the apothecary jars in our sun room, but also selecting the palest of orange pumpkins for the front stoop. One more front step is now pumpkined --my apology to all word purists.
Summer's loss seems little, dear,
on days like these.
Ernest Dowson
I love this season, and I know I am not alone in that. Sitting at my desk in the garret I see patches of red leaves, tempting the others to turn red and amazingly, when I glance up from my laptop again, it seems as if more have decided to join the red team.
Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to
it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the
earth seeking the successive autumns.
George Eliot
One year when we lived at Sweetwater Farm we grew pumpkins, and I filled our open front porch with them, inviting anyone to help themselves. Another year our son was marrying our dear Cricket, and we had the rehearsal dinner on a gorgeous fall evening at the farm. Vintage fall tablecloths and white pumpkins stenciled with hearts decorated the tables under the tent. Pumpkins were every where, for I had made many trips to my favorite pumpkin stand, filling the Jeep each trip. A bounty of friends and family joined us that evening to celebrate a new season of life.
I remember the time a friend sent me a large box of bittersweet from the mountain behind her Pennsylvania home. I swagged the white picket fence from driveway to backdoor with an abundance of bittersweet. Our fall drives always included sweeping the landscape for signs of bittersweet, hoping we remembered the garden shears and if some were spotted, like the flash of a red tail hawk, that it could be reached without danger to life and limb. This year I am content to have a bunch hanging on the front of an old painted cupboard, loving the splash of orange against the faded aqua.
My decorating is more spare now, but there is still the urge to make sure the house knows the season has changed. On the entry table along with a bouquet of hydrangeas and pheasant feathers I have opened a vintage copy, given to me by a dear friend, of Thoreau's Autumn.
Some single trees, wholly bright
scarlet, seen against others of
their kind still freshly green, or
against evergreens, are more
memorable than
whole groves will be by and by. How beautiful
when a whole tree is like one great scarlet fruit,
full of ripe juices, every leaf, from lowest limb to
topmost spire, all a-glow, especially if you look
toward the sun. What more remarkable object can
there be in the landscape? Visible for miles, too fair
to be believed. If such a phenomenon occurred but
once, it would be handed down by tradition to posterity
and get into the mythology at last.
Henry David Thoreau
Vintage candles--pumpkins and witches and black cats, oh my!, make me smile from their perch on the kitchen windowsill. In the evening battery-lit glass pumpkins keep us company as we close the door and pull the blinds till morning sun returns. A throw on the leather couch, a tumble of velvet pumpkins, a candle with the smell of cinnamon--all reminders for me to pay attention to the change that is happening outside and to be mindful of changes going on in my own spirit. A tucking in. A release from the fullness of summer.
The temperature has been summer warm today, and I enjoyed having lunch and reading at the patio table. A squirrel chattering at me reminded me, however, that it only had so much time to gather and hide nuts for winter, and I was in its way. Yes, there is almost so much time, and I, too, need to be mindful of how I spend it. Right now being present to the changing of the seasons seems the very best way.
An Invitation
How do you mark the changing of seasons? What are you mindful of as you move from summer to fall? I would love to know.
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| Ready to party! |
Nope, the title is not a mistake. Happy New Year! Recently, a friend, wrote me that she has decided July is the start of a new year for her. Although she is grieving the death of her father and dealing with ongoing extended family issues, she has declared July is the beginning of a new year for her. The grief will not disappear nor will the family dynamics magically change, but she has remembered her love of "fresh starts" and is choosing to live with a new perspective. After all, July is the beginning of the second half of the year, so bravo -- and Happy New Year!
Behold! I am making all things new.
Revelations 21:5
What about you? What areas of your life need renewal, a fresh start? Are there aspects of yourself that need to be reclaimed? Do you feel the need for an overhaul or do you need to lighten up in some way? Sue Patton Thoele refers to the process of renewal as "re-greening the arid places," and how perfect that seems during the summer months when our eyes are bombarded with all things green. Renewal, it seems to me, is always possible, even if it doesn't seem probable.
Another friend said she is looking at the month of July as a time to make her life "simpler, easier, and richer." Her intentions made me think about what renewing qualities I would like to bring into my own life right now. Here's what I am trying to bring into this new year:
Strength
Spontaneity
Mindfulness
Even though my ankle has healed well, this feels like a critical time to intentionally rebuild my strength and stamina. I need to pay attention to what my body most needs, whether it is more exercise or more rest and better eating habits. A major challenge for this sedentary person! At the same time, I want to be more open to invitations and possibilities and to look for them. I choose to be spontaneous. Be awake, I tell myself. Pay attention. Use the spiritual tools that serve me well, reminding me to be mindful. What does this moment need and ask of me? How is God moving in my life right now and what deeper, richer connections can I make?
God darts by; sometimes I notice.
Lauren F. Winner
My intention as I start my new year in this month of July is to ask myself moment to moment if what I am doing fulfills my desire for renewal. May it be so.
An Invitation
What needs to be renewed in your life right now? What can't wait till the next new year? I would love to know.
I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.
Joan Didion
When people learn I write a blog, they often ask "Where do you get your ideas?" I am always a bit stunned by the question, because ideas are not the problem. Making time, taking time to write is much more of a problem for me.
Ideas are scrawled on little scraps of paper in the car, and notebooks of all sizes are filled with pages of writing ideas. My journal overflows with drafts for further development, and now I even use my iPhone for noting something I heard or saw that sparks a thought within me. Ideas are NOT the problem.
I do appreciate the question, however, and it deserves a reflective answer. Where do the ideas come from?
The Writing Life
When I started keeping journals in a regular, ongoing way almost 40 years ago, Christina Baldwin, who has written brilliantly about journal writing, said to my burgeoning journal writing group, "The more you write, the more you find to write about and the more you find to write about, the more you write."
How true that is! Writing requires living fully--being with family and friends and enjoying a diversity of activities and interactions, as well as time to do all the "stuff" of life. Just as important are gathering days, percolating days as ways to open to and relax in the possibility of new ideas and stimulation. Julia Cameron in her classic The Artist's Way calls these days Artist's Dates.
Perhaps you are one of the many who are declaring days of the week or hours of the day as times of non-connection meaning turning off the cell phone, staying away from all your tech devices. Those are times to let your mind and soul breathe, a kind of breathing essential to my writing life; times when ideas flow and develop and grow and then magically come to fruition the next time I sit down to write. In reality, those may be times of greatest connection, cosmic connection.
Paradox and Gratitude
Being a writer is not without its paradox. How do I stay fully engaged with life and the life around me and at the same time be the listener, the observer, that opens my mind and spirit to ideas, which I translate into my writing? Often I say in the midst of a conversation or activity, "I feel a blog post coming on," and in that moment I have removed myself from the present moment. Instead, I start thinking about what I am going to write.
Trust enters this paradox. The need to trust that if my focus is staying awake and bringing my full self into the moment, when the time comes to bring my full self to the writing, the ideas will be there. That is the moment when I feel immense gratitude, and each writing session becomes a way to give thanks.
I am often surprised, however, when I sit down to write by what idea comes to the forefront. I often think I am going to write about x and have been thinking about how to develop that idea and what resources I have in my library to support and expand that idea. When the time comes, I sit quietly at my desk and close my eyes before picking up a pen or opening the "new post" section of my blog. I breathe a deep cleansing breath and ask that my writing partner, Creator God, be with me. Sometimes something entirely different rises to the top and demands attention. It is in that moment when I feel fully awake and when my True Self feels alive.
The Practice of Being Awake
Writing, and in particular writing this blog, is a spiritual practice and as with any spiritual practice, I need to be awake in order to bring myself to the practice. And not just awake when I sit at my desk in front of my laptop and declare the next hour or two as writing time, but all the time--as much time as possible.
And not just caffeine awake either.
The ultimate spiritual practice is being awake.
Being aware.
Being mindful.
Being in the present.
Being.
Listening with the eyes of my heart.
When I am awake, so much more can enter into my being, and I become aware of Presence, which enriches and draws me further into specific practices. For me that is writing, but also meditation and prayer and study. And sitting in spiritual direction with a directee. For you that might be gardening or doing yoga or painting or working at a food shelter.
I desire that kind of alert attention for every aspect of my life.
My intention is for my life to be one of spiritual practice.
That's where I get my ideas.
An Invitation
If you live a creative life, where do your ideas come from? In what ways is your creativity a form of spiritual practice? What are your intentions for living a creative life? A spiritual life?
I would love your comments about staying awake to your whole life.
On the fourth Thursday of each month I will introduce you to someone whom I look up to as a spiritual friend and teacher. The focus of my questions is on their spiritual practices and what nurtures their deepening spirituality.
This month meet Cindy Garis whom I met when we were beginning our training as spiritual directors through Oasis Ministries for Spiritual Development. Cindy, who is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ, has been the executive director of Oasis since 2004. She received her M.Div from Lancaster Theological Seminary (Lancaster, PA) and served six years as co-pastor for a congregation in Lebanon, PA, before beginning her ministry with Oasis. Cindy leads prayer retreats for congregations and small groups, including a favorite one with the theme of Wizard of Oz. www.oasismin.org/Oz.html
Please describe your spiritual practice? What do you identify as your main spiritual practice?
My main spiritual practice right now is mindfulness, but walking, forgiveness, and playing with the dog are part of my spiritual practice as well.
Every morning and evening I practice the basic mindfulness breath meditation for at least five minutes, but perhaps up to 30 minutes. What that means is that I focus on my breath. I don't breathe differently, but am aware of my breath as it flows in and out and through my body.
How did that become your main practice?
It actually became my primary practice after I was invited to lead a workshop entitled "A Mindful Approach to Stress Reduction." I found it to be so helpful in the way it moved me to be present to what is, right now, not in the future or the past.
I had a similar experience with meditation when I was asked to substitute for someone who was supposed to teach a class on meditation techniques. By preparing for the class, I converted myself to a practice of meditation.
When I asked about your main spiritual practice you said mindfulness is the key one "right now." What other spiritual practices have been or are important to you?
Honestly, I find that I need variety in my life, and my spiritual practice is no different. So while mindfulness has become very important in order to keep my life grounded, I would say that many other practices have held the primary role at one time or another.
For example?
I find that walking in nature is very sacred to me. Hiking, walking a labyrinth, even walking the dog is holy time. It often clears my head and becomes prayerful activity...a chance to be reminded of God's creative presence on a grand and large scale, but also on a small scale.
When I have led retreats, I have invited participants to make a hole on an index card with a paper hole punch and then take that index card outside and look through the hole with an "attentive gaze," focusing on something specific. What happens in that exercise is that we notice the Cosmic Creator in the very small. Perhaps it is a bug or a leaf or bark on a tree. The hole in the card helps us focus our attention.
Similar attentiveness can be aided by using a flashlight at night to help you focus your gaze. Or if you are walking a labyrinth, wear a veil or head covering, so that all you are able to see is the next step.
I love this idea and can't wait to try it myself. Any other practices you care to mention?
Group spiritual direction or group contemplation. I am amazed at how much I enjoy sitting in silence WITH others. Again, it helps me remain focused and more centered. It also reminds me that being a contemplative in this world might make you a bit counter-cultural, but you do have company.
I remember when I was attending the Spiritual Direction for Spiritual Guides two-year program at Oasis, I could hardly wait for the morning circle time when we would all gather in silence. It was so powerful to sit in silence with others. You mentioned the practice of forgiveness. Say more, please.
Both the practice of forgiveness and the practice of play are important to me on my spiritual journey because they help me not take myself too seriously. They remind me I am not the center of the universe. Love is. They help me celebrate imperfection and connect with all of humanity.
What hints or advice do you have for someone developing a spiritual practice?
Don't give up! Spiritual practice is about "practicing," not "mastering." That's why I like the term "spiritual practice" a bit more than "spiritual discipline." I am not a very disciplined person, but I can practice again and again and again.
Spiritual practices are about noticing...noticing the sacred in the ordinary. For me, it is recognizing how I notice God or the sacred in the everyday of life.
Noticing how we notice. Can you give an example?
Well, I, at times play Candy Crush Saga. Yep, an addicting matching game app. Recently, I found myself asking, "Now what does Candy Crush have to teach me about the contemplative life?" What I discovered is that it reminded me to be focused on the invitation, not on the distraction. In Candy Crush, if it asks you to "clear all the jellies," do not get distracted by the blinking candy pieces. In my every day life, I am reminded to focus on what God's invitation is, instead of focusing on other stressors or distractions.
Any book titles or other resources you care to recommend that would support my readers on their journey?
The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown
Full Catastrophe Living by Jon Kabat-Zinn
Also, visit Ronald Siegel's The Mindfulness Solution website for more information and to listen to various mindful meditations. http://mindfulness-solution.com/
Thank you Cindy for sharing insights into your spiritual practices and extending the invitation to notice what and how we are noticing. Not only are you are a blessing in my life, but so is Oasis Ministries for Spiritual Development.
Oasis Ministries located in Camp Hill, Pa is an ecumenical Christian ministry that brings together people who long to listen for and encounter the Holy Spirit and invites them to center their everyday lives deep in God. Single-day gatherings, retreats, pilgrimages, short-term and long-term courses form individuals into communities that nurture quiet prayer and open up souls to discover and practice God's presence. Since 1988, they have been teaching people how to companion others on their spiritual journey, listening to people's longing for Divine Love. www.oasismin.org.
An Invitation
What questions do you have for Cindy? What are you noticing as you are noticing your encounters with the Holy in your everyday life? Post your comments and questions.
I spent the afternoon cutting and pasting.
