As a lotus flower…

As a lotus flower is born in water,
grows in water and
rises out of water to
stand above it unsoiled,

so I, born in the world,
raised in the world,
having overcome the world,
live unsoiled by the world.

~ Buddha ~

Life itself…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Listen to your life.

See it for the fathomless mystery that it is.

In the boredom and pain of it no less

than in the excitement and gladness:

touch, taste, smell your way

to the holy and hidden heart of it

because in the last analysis

all moments are key moments,

and life itself is grace.

~ Frederick Buechner ~

And it is.  It is all grace – the good, the bad and especially the difficult.  It’s in the pain that we find the gems, the new growth, the sense of what we came here to learn. Once again, Buechner says it so beautifully.  What a gift his words are, as I read them each night in his daily meditation book, “Listening to Your Life”.  I learned about this wonderful collection last year from my friend, Corinne, and it’s about time that I pass it on to you. Buechner is an extraordinary writer and a minister, so it is definitely Christian in nature, although I think his wisdom is universal and accessible to all.

The end and the beginning, and everything in between…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Year’s end is neither an end nor a beginning but a going on,
with all the wisdom that experience can instill in us.”

~ Hal Borland ~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I put this post together, it is New Year’s Eve.  The last evening of 2011.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am still on London time, and as I go through the images from my holiday trip,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and I realize how long I have been away from this space,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

it seems clear that a Sunday stroll might be in order to say goodbye to the old year and welcome in the new…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

London certainly knows how to decorate for the holidays.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Everywhere you look, there are lights…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and ribbons,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and bows.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The traditional holiday meal in England is, of course, the Christmas goose.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This guy seemed wary…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We ate well – this is probably my favorite restaurant in the world –

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

walked for miles and miles,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and marveled at it all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We even did a little Boxing Day shopping.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I couldn’t help thinking, though, that it seems like so much, all at once.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lovely, of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As I wandered the streets, I wondered…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

what would it be like if we kept the holiday spirit alive

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

all year?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What if we celebrated the good in each other

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

everyday?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know that each of you is such a gift to me, on each day of the year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I wish you, of course, peace and joy, health and wisdom, wonder and love in the New Year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll be right here, bringing you little bits of that, I hope, all year long, just as you bring it to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that makes every day worth celebrating, doesn’t it?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fear, playing big and getting quiet…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.

~ Marianne Williamson ~

These are some of the wisest, truest and most meaningful words I know. I’ve already sent them to friends more than once today, so I figured it was time to highlight them here again.
I’ve been playing a whole lot bigger lately and have been pushing my limits further than ever. It feels good and it feels like time to put the brakes on, just a tiny bit. In an inspired moment of divine intervention, I signed up for a silent retreat this weekend, months ago. I’ll be with a couple of my favorite teachers and one who is new to me, along with, I am sure, a wonderful group of fellow meditators. As we will be silent there, I feel called to be silent for a few days here, too. Part of more changes at CIF- I’ll fill you in next week.
For now, I wonder how today’s quote will inspire you. I’d love to hear about all of it. I’ll see you back here on Monday.

the changing of the seasons…

 

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter.  Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.  ~ Andrew Wyeth ~

Winter is just beginning to arrive here in Virginia, and while I have enjoyed the 70 degree days lately, I’m more than ready.  There is something about the passage of time that is so clearly defined by the turn of the seasons.  Decades ago, the weather and the time of year really dictated our lives and I sometimes mourn the loss of that natural rhythm.  Long walks, taking photographs along the way have become my way of connecting to the earth’s rotation.  Lately, though, I’ve been yearning for more than these occasional strolls through the local parks. It’s so easy to just live in our artificial lit, heated and cooled buildings and lose touch with all the gifts that nature brings.

So I was delighted to receive an email from my friend, Joanna Powell Colbert, who lives in the Pacific Northwest – a place I consider God’s country.  Joanna is an incredible artist, author and teacher whose favorite subject is Mother Earth.  It turns out that she had been having similar yearnings and was moved to create a beautiful new course, called “Gaian Soul Seasonal Practices: Diving Deep with Creativity, Contemplation & Connection“.  Just the thing for me, and I am guessing that some of you might just love it, too.

Joanna wrote about it in her recent newsletter:

I’ve been mulling over the idea of contemplative, creative seasonal e-courses for a couple of years now. I wanted to create a guide for myself that would help me to go deep into the mysteries of each season — both in the way we experience it externally, with changes in the natural world, as well as its inner, mythic resonances.

I wanted to make art that reflected the effect the season had on me — to write and sketch about it in my journal, to take photographs, and to visit special secret spots in nature, observing the seasonal changes. I wanted to completely absorb the season until it leaked out my pores. And, I thought, it would be so lovely to do this with companions along the way. But, for one reason or another, I didn’t act on the idea.

Then one day this fall, as I was planning my offerings for 2012, I read this “tweet” by Jennifer Louden (one of my “she-roes”):

You are always being offered the exact medicine you need (hint: it shows up in what you are teaching / offering others).

And I metaphorically slapped my palm on my forehead. Of course! I need to teach what my soul is calling me to learn. It’s the exact medicine I need!

So I created a series of eight e-courses, Gaian Soul Seasonal Practices, structured around the Wheel of the Year.

You can find out more about the course here – there’s an early bird discount through December 5th, and registration for this first segment ends on December 10.  I hope you’ll consider joining us. Joanna has asked to use some of my photographs, and I’m honored to be working with her.

Wouldn’t this be an inspired holiday gift?

 

On this day…

“This will be our reply to violence: to make music more intensely,
more beautifully, more devotedly than ever before.”
~ Leonard Bernstein ~

It has been ten years since September 11th.  2001.

You would have to have been hiding in a distant cave not to know that by now. There have been tenth anniversary books
and articles and TV shows lining up, one after another, each offering their view on the day that changed the way we
live in the United States.  The day that changed the world.

I have debated a lot about whether or not I want to add my voice to this discussion. There are already so many voices,
so many varying points of view.  Why add another one to what is quickly becoming an overwhelmingly loud and confusing
mass of opinions?  What I want to say, though, is quiet.  And, I hope, thoughtful.  So here goes…

I wonder what we have learned in ten years.  I do.

We all saw the same images.  We heard the news anchors, the interviews, the pundits.  We have listened to politicians
who were at the helm in September of 2001, and from those who came after them.

I hope, in the last ten years, that you have told your story, too.  And that you have heard the stories of others.
Not just from People magazine, or Time, or the Movie of the Week.  I hope that you have been listening to each other,
and it’s likely that you carry a lot of those stories with you now.

In any case, we all know where we were that day.  We know what we ate for breakfast, or that we couldn’t eat because
we were paralyzed in front of the television.

We know who called us, or who we called first.

We know who we knew, in the tower or on the plane or in the Pentagon.

We know how our heart hurt or didn’t, because we froze.  And how it hurt even more when that heart inevitably had to defrost.

Or do we?  Have we really thawed out from all that happened that day?  Have we taken it all in?  And if so, what, exactly,
have we taken from all the facets of those few hours?

9/11 brought us a lot.  It brought disbelief, it brought grief.   Bucket loads of grief.  And fear.  Even more fear.

Fear of planes falling from the sky.
Fear of losing loved ones.  Of losing ourselves.
Fear of what might happen, on any given morning.
Fear of more of the same.
Fear of losing all we have worked so hard to gain.
Fear of repercussions.
Fear of anything “other”.
So much fear.

Here’s where I veer off from the pack, where I want to shine a light, where I hope you will join me.

I think 9/11 brought us love.
And I have to believe that those who left us that day would very much like for us to take that in.

Think about it.

Did the firefighters run into that burning building as it collapsed out of fear?  I doubt it.  I think they did it out of love.  For their profession, for their city, for their fellow human beings, trapped and needing help.
Did the passengers on the airplane in Pennsylvania call and leave messages for their families out of fear?  To tell them how scared they were?  I don’t think so.  They left messages of love, of longing, of connection.
And when you couldn’t find your friend that day – the one who just happened to have a meeting in the Towers that September morning?  What did you say after the beep?  Did you use words stemming from fear?  Or did they come from the love that you felt, even as you panicked?

We have a choice.  The immediate danger is over, at least for now.  Who knows what the future will bring, and we don’t need to forget all the pictures that 9/11 left in our minds.  We don’t.

We do need to decide, though, where we go from here.  We need to make a conscious choice, now and every day from here on out, about whether or not we will remember those who gave their lives that day by living in fear.  Or by loving what is, holding it close and moving forward in the knowledge that great sacrifice can lead to great gifts.

It’s my choice, and it’s yours.  The old adage is true, though.  There is strength in numbers.

I hope we can walk into the future together, in love.

This was written, as yesterday’s entry was, for the “Voices in Courage” concert held in Naples, Florida on September 10th and 11th, 2011. I am honored to have been a part of this incredible gathering of voices and hope that we will all answer the director, Marian Dolan’s call to “be “voices of courage” here in our community, to carry forth their love, faith, hope and light into the next decade and beyond.”

I know of no better way to thank those who sacrificed their lives, ten years ago today, than to carry forward the love, courage and bravery they showed us so clearly that day.

Some days…

When it is over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement…

~ Mary Oliver ~

Some days, it doesn’t quite feel that way, though. Some days it feels like too much to do in too little time, like I am chasing my own tail, like one more thing would make it just too hard.

And then I see something – outside, or in a book, or in my collection of photographs, and I remember.

It is all amazing.