This poem is also from Jeff Rockwell's book
Making Friends With The Dust.
One thing at a time
Our progress will never make it possible
for us to fly with our arms open
flapping in the air.
What it can do, however,
is inspire us to do
one
holy
mindful
thing
at a time.
Nothing more needs to be said here.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Clouds, Rainbows, and Stick Figures
When adult life seems confusing and overwhelming, sometimes it is helpful to step back in time and remember what our world looked like when we were six or so. Life was simple. We trusted most people. We believed we were loved unconditionally. Everyone around us was concerned with our happiness and well being. And, crayons and creativity were a part of every day.
Our simplistic perception of life was reflected in all those crayon renderings of the world around us that were displayed in that place of honor – the refrigerator door. People in our pictures were stick figures. They may be black or green or red or blue. It really didn't matter. Most of them did not have clothes, probably because how people dressed was not a big deal to six-year olds. Our people maybe had fingers and/or toes – somewhere between two and seven on each appendage. Or, maybe they didn't. That didn't matter either. Trees full of ripe apples were often in our drawings. Rainbows, with or without rain, were also common because when drawing a rainbow we could use six of the eight crayons in the box. Oh, there were the kids who had black and brown in their rainbows and that was OK too. If the rainbow was accompanied by rain, the picture had black scalloped-edged clouds with black sheets of rain. Or, rain was also drawn without the clouds. Most often it was then represented by big blue drops that fell on brightly colored flowers that smiled up at them from lush green grass. You may remember that in these drawings, the sun was always smiling and the moon was often sleeping. Most of the time, we only drew half of the moon because if we drew a full moon, it would look like the sun. Did we know about the phases of the moon at six?
After dinner this evening, I was struck by a seemingly sudden change of light. Just as I was about to comment, Erin came in to the room and announced that we were about to have storms. She had gotten a text message from a friend who lives a little southeast of us where it was already raining. I picked up my camera and went outside. (There is no logical explanation as to why this was my response.)
As I looked around, the world looked like it did forty some years ago when I was six but instead of preserving the images I see with crayons and paper, I am now using my camera. In reality, the final product is not much different. Though intellectually I know that nothing is really simple, for a few moments tonight I felt like storm clouds are pretty and frilly, every picture should have a rainbow, and the sun is always smiling.
Our simplistic perception of life was reflected in all those crayon renderings of the world around us that were displayed in that place of honor – the refrigerator door. People in our pictures were stick figures. They may be black or green or red or blue. It really didn't matter. Most of them did not have clothes, probably because how people dressed was not a big deal to six-year olds. Our people maybe had fingers and/or toes – somewhere between two and seven on each appendage. Or, maybe they didn't. That didn't matter either. Trees full of ripe apples were often in our drawings. Rainbows, with or without rain, were also common because when drawing a rainbow we could use six of the eight crayons in the box. Oh, there were the kids who had black and brown in their rainbows and that was OK too. If the rainbow was accompanied by rain, the picture had black scalloped-edged clouds with black sheets of rain. Or, rain was also drawn without the clouds. Most often it was then represented by big blue drops that fell on brightly colored flowers that smiled up at them from lush green grass. You may remember that in these drawings, the sun was always smiling and the moon was often sleeping. Most of the time, we only drew half of the moon because if we drew a full moon, it would look like the sun. Did we know about the phases of the moon at six?
After dinner this evening, I was struck by a seemingly sudden change of light. Just as I was about to comment, Erin came in to the room and announced that we were about to have storms. She had gotten a text message from a friend who lives a little southeast of us where it was already raining. I picked up my camera and went outside. (There is no logical explanation as to why this was my response.)
As I looked around, the world looked like it did forty some years ago when I was six but instead of preserving the images I see with crayons and paper, I am now using my camera. In reality, the final product is not much different. Though intellectually I know that nothing is really simple, for a few moments tonight I felt like storm clouds are pretty and frilly, every picture should have a rainbow, and the sun is always smiling.
Though it is hard to see in this picture, I know that the sun that is slipping down on the horizon is smiling.
The rain falls as dark sheets.
Storm clouds are pretty and scalloped.
And, the moon is not round like the sun.
In the midst of mid-life, it is hard to remember this long ago simple world, a life before we had experienced any real hurt or heartache. I am still overwhelmed by the questions that I mentioned in my last post. My search for answers consumes my thoughts, but I do not really feel burdened by the questions themselves. I am trying to be present in each moment. I have faith that in this, the answers will be revealed.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Walking With Questions
Today the Labyrinth Ministry of our church, of which I am a part, had its regular monthly meeting. Up until recently, we have neglected walking the labyrinth as a part of these meetings in favor of having more time for "business". The majority of the group agreed that not walking together was a mistake in that our work together was not firmly grounded in the labyrinth itself.
For nearly ten years, the labyrinth has been an integral part of my spiritual journey. I first walked on a paper labyrinth at our church. Since then I have had the opportunity to walk at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, outdoor labyrinths in Chicago, our own canvas labyrinth in places from Dallas to California, and I was blessed to spend a week on the labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral in France.
Just as every stroll we take down our own neighborhood street or walk we take through the aisles of the grocery store is different, so is every labyrinth walk. The experience can range from "so what" to "Wow!" It can spark fear or laughter. It may call forth tears of sorrow or tears of joy. A walk may leave you with answers or questions. The latter was the case with my walk today. I had so many questions that I had a hard time focusing or even articulating them. When I find myself in such a place, I turn to the words of others to help me make sense of my thoughts and feelings.
It is the poetry of Jeff Rockwell in his book Making Friends With The Dust where I find comfort tonight.
A body of questions
Are all rivers flowing in time?
Are all songs a cry for more?
Are all canyons made of slow-moving gold?
Do all bananas dream of sex?
Do all embraces stretch from head to toe?
Do all highways follow the signs?
Are all stoplights a reminder to breathe, and
should we say, "thank you?"
Are all pretensions as obvious as they mean to be?
Are all dyed-hairs where they belong?
Do all homes approve of their owners?
Do all fears have a purpose in life?
Do all beds drive lovers crazy?
Are all hearts underrated?
Are all missionaries and preachers living their own lives?
Are all mystics out of a job?
Do all footsteps know where they are going?
Do all restaurants in America serve passion?
Do all moments count if no one is counting?
I still have lots of questions and no answers, but I take solace in the fact that I am not the only one who walks around with a head full of unanswered, possibly ridiculous, questions. Perhaps my next walk will be a journey of answers.
For nearly ten years, the labyrinth has been an integral part of my spiritual journey. I first walked on a paper labyrinth at our church. Since then I have had the opportunity to walk at Grace Cathedral in San Francisco, outdoor labyrinths in Chicago, our own canvas labyrinth in places from Dallas to California, and I was blessed to spend a week on the labyrinth at Chartres Cathedral in France.
Just as every stroll we take down our own neighborhood street or walk we take through the aisles of the grocery store is different, so is every labyrinth walk. The experience can range from "so what" to "Wow!" It can spark fear or laughter. It may call forth tears of sorrow or tears of joy. A walk may leave you with answers or questions. The latter was the case with my walk today. I had so many questions that I had a hard time focusing or even articulating them. When I find myself in such a place, I turn to the words of others to help me make sense of my thoughts and feelings.
It is the poetry of Jeff Rockwell in his book Making Friends With The Dust where I find comfort tonight.
A body of questions
Are all rivers flowing in time?
Are all songs a cry for more?
Are all canyons made of slow-moving gold?
Do all bananas dream of sex?
Do all embraces stretch from head to toe?
Do all highways follow the signs?
Are all stoplights a reminder to breathe, and
should we say, "thank you?"
Are all pretensions as obvious as they mean to be?
Are all dyed-hairs where they belong?
Do all homes approve of their owners?
Do all fears have a purpose in life?
Do all beds drive lovers crazy?
Are all hearts underrated?
Are all missionaries and preachers living their own lives?
Are all mystics out of a job?
Do all footsteps know where they are going?
Do all restaurants in America serve passion?
Do all moments count if no one is counting?
I still have lots of questions and no answers, but I take solace in the fact that I am not the only one who walks around with a head full of unanswered, possibly ridiculous, questions. Perhaps my next walk will be a journey of answers.
Friday, July 4, 2008
The Week In Review
Okay, I have not done any better writing this week than I did last week, but this week I can account for where the days have gone.
Monday was spent getting my life back in order after having been gone all weekend. I came back from my silent retreat rested and relaxed and those who spent the weekend at my house (some kind of REALLY messy house guests I think or was it my family??) had their own kind of retreat - a retreat from washing any dishes or clothes, putting anything in the trash can, which negated the need to take any trash to the dumpster, or from putting any of the 6, 347 DVD's (by actual count) that they watched during these brief three days back in their sleeves. I think that maybe they had more of a retreat than I did. I at least made my bed every day and washed my own iced tea glass! So there went Monday. Oh, I think there was a trip to the grocery store in there as well.
Tuesday morning we went out for breakfast and selfishly took a few minutes to sit and do the crossword puzzles before going over to help a friend. She was getting a new puppy from a local rescue agency and wanted some help wrangling her other three dogs while the woman from the agency, who was probably more picky about this dog's new home than CPS is about most foster homes, scoped out the situation. All went well and "Peanut" who is now being called "Petey" has a new home.
Wednesday morning began bright and early. I had to be at the hospital at 6:30 am for outpatient surgery to remove skin cancer from my arm. The procedure went well; all of the cancer is gone and I am left with about a 5 inch incision. I was really hoping for a smiley face scar but because the did not have to do a skin graft I have only a boring wavy line. I think I look like an idiot who did not know how to slit his own wrist. Brooke says it is more like a wound from a defensive move from a knife fight. The bottom line, all is well. I am stitched and taped back together.
I did learn that most hospital staff does not have a sense of humor. First of all, a nurse asked me if I had had a hysterectomy. I responded with a "no". She then told me that she needed a urine sample. I said to her, "You are not seriously going to do a pregnancy test are you?" She said that they have to do one on every woman under fifty who has not had a hysterectomy. Has the medical profession not heard of tubal ligation? Celibacy? Boredom? There are lots of ways not to be pregnant. I did tell her that if I was pregnant that we would all be rich and that if she would smile I might share with her. She didn't smile. And, I am not pregnant. When I got home I had a little Internet retail therapy and played many computer games.
I taught my class on Thursday morning. I managed to play some dictation examples on the piano with my minorly swollen fingers. The one difficulty of the surgery is that I can't get my arm wet for ten days. That makes washing my hair a little challenging. I think that saran wrap, which I loathe as something to use in the kitchen, may become my best friend. I'll have to warp my arm with it to take a shower for the next couple of weeks. If I don't make friends with it, I will smell too bad for any of my human friends to want to get close to me! fortunately, my dogs don't care what I smell like. My knitting buddies did come over last night for a little fun. It had only been a little more than a day since I showered so it was OK. Today may be a different story.
You all know that I like to post pictures here. I do have some options. I could post pictures of my arm with its varying colors, steri-strips (the real stitches are on the inside), and the doctor's marks that say "slice here." However, I think you would rather see this:
This is "Petey". He is a four month old terrier mix. This little guy, though he is very young, has had a rough life. He was rescued from someone that was using him as bait to train pit bulls to fight. Despite that, he is the happiest and friendliest little guy and has no problems getting along with other dogs. He was marked as "unadoptable" by a city shelter because of the puncture wounds that he had. A woman from a private rescue agency went and got him on the day he was to be euthanized. She nursed his wounds and then placed him up for adoption. He now has a wonderful human mom that loves him and three canine brothers and sisters that are taking good care of him.
Monday was spent getting my life back in order after having been gone all weekend. I came back from my silent retreat rested and relaxed and those who spent the weekend at my house (some kind of REALLY messy house guests I think or was it my family??) had their own kind of retreat - a retreat from washing any dishes or clothes, putting anything in the trash can, which negated the need to take any trash to the dumpster, or from putting any of the 6, 347 DVD's (by actual count) that they watched during these brief three days back in their sleeves. I think that maybe they had more of a retreat than I did. I at least made my bed every day and washed my own iced tea glass! So there went Monday. Oh, I think there was a trip to the grocery store in there as well.
Tuesday morning we went out for breakfast and selfishly took a few minutes to sit and do the crossword puzzles before going over to help a friend. She was getting a new puppy from a local rescue agency and wanted some help wrangling her other three dogs while the woman from the agency, who was probably more picky about this dog's new home than CPS is about most foster homes, scoped out the situation. All went well and "Peanut" who is now being called "Petey" has a new home.
Wednesday morning began bright and early. I had to be at the hospital at 6:30 am for outpatient surgery to remove skin cancer from my arm. The procedure went well; all of the cancer is gone and I am left with about a 5 inch incision. I was really hoping for a smiley face scar but because the did not have to do a skin graft I have only a boring wavy line. I think I look like an idiot who did not know how to slit his own wrist. Brooke says it is more like a wound from a defensive move from a knife fight. The bottom line, all is well. I am stitched and taped back together.
I did learn that most hospital staff does not have a sense of humor. First of all, a nurse asked me if I had had a hysterectomy. I responded with a "no". She then told me that she needed a urine sample. I said to her, "You are not seriously going to do a pregnancy test are you?" She said that they have to do one on every woman under fifty who has not had a hysterectomy. Has the medical profession not heard of tubal ligation? Celibacy? Boredom? There are lots of ways not to be pregnant. I did tell her that if I was pregnant that we would all be rich and that if she would smile I might share with her. She didn't smile. And, I am not pregnant. When I got home I had a little Internet retail therapy and played many computer games.
I taught my class on Thursday morning. I managed to play some dictation examples on the piano with my minorly swollen fingers. The one difficulty of the surgery is that I can't get my arm wet for ten days. That makes washing my hair a little challenging. I think that saran wrap, which I loathe as something to use in the kitchen, may become my best friend. I'll have to warp my arm with it to take a shower for the next couple of weeks. If I don't make friends with it, I will smell too bad for any of my human friends to want to get close to me! fortunately, my dogs don't care what I smell like. My knitting buddies did come over last night for a little fun. It had only been a little more than a day since I showered so it was OK. Today may be a different story.
You all know that I like to post pictures here. I do have some options. I could post pictures of my arm with its varying colors, steri-strips (the real stitches are on the inside), and the doctor's marks that say "slice here." However, I think you would rather see this:
This is "Petey". He is a four month old terrier mix. This little guy, though he is very young, has had a rough life. He was rescued from someone that was using him as bait to train pit bulls to fight. Despite that, he is the happiest and friendliest little guy and has no problems getting along with other dogs. He was marked as "unadoptable" by a city shelter because of the puncture wounds that he had. A woman from a private rescue agency went and got him on the day he was to be euthanized. She nursed his wounds and then placed him up for adoption. He now has a wonderful human mom that loves him and three canine brothers and sisters that are taking good care of him.All and all, this has been a good week!
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Where Has The Week Gone?
I can't believe that it has been more than a week since I last posted. I wish I could say that I have been feeding the multitudes of hungry people, or battling forest fires, or discovering the cure for AIDS, or travelling the world, but I can't. Sadly, I can't tell you anything significant that I have done in the last week except for the last three days.
I was on a silent retreat this weekend with my Franciscan fellowship. Though we did have meals together and said the Daily Offices as a group, we were in total silence for 24 hours. It was awesome! The freedom not to have to say anything to another person was such a gift. It really was not as selfish as it sounds but 24 hours of silence was an amazing gift.
Before I left, I thought about how I could spend my quiet time productively. I thought about reading a book (something spiritual of course), or writing, or sleeping, but none of these felt right. I finally decided that I would spend the time with my camera. I have many things to learn about it and I seem not to have any uninterrupted stretches of time at home. So I took my camera, a full battery, an empty card, the manual and another book on photography.
After breakfast, I sat down with the book. I read a few pages, checked my camera's manual for specifics, found the appropriate buttons on the camera, read a few more pages and repeated the entire process. As is often the case, the more I read, the more I realized that I did not know. After this "classroom" session, I set out on the retreat center grounds to take some pictures.
Texas in June is monochromatic - brown with a slight hint of green. I had a hard time finding a shot that jumped out and said "take me". Truthfully, I was not really looking for a "good picture", I was hoping to play with some different settings on my camera. This I did accomplish.
We our group gathered to come out of silence together, everyone was sharing the fruits of their quiet time. Some people read from their journals; others read poems they has written; still others read passages from Scripture that spoke to their day; some remained in silence; and I confessed that I had spent the day with my camera. Several people asked to see the pictures, but I had intentionally not taken my computer so I really had no way to share. I'm sure they all thought I had wasted the day sleeping!
When I got home, I put the card in my computer and looked at the images. Though there are no outstanding artsy pictures, I did accomplish my goal for the weekend. I can see in the shots I took those things that I read about. I fell good about what I accomplished though I don't have much to outwardly show for it. Several people asked if I would email pictures once I had had the opportunity to look at them. I offer this one.
I was on a silent retreat this weekend with my Franciscan fellowship. Though we did have meals together and said the Daily Offices as a group, we were in total silence for 24 hours. It was awesome! The freedom not to have to say anything to another person was such a gift. It really was not as selfish as it sounds but 24 hours of silence was an amazing gift.
Before I left, I thought about how I could spend my quiet time productively. I thought about reading a book (something spiritual of course), or writing, or sleeping, but none of these felt right. I finally decided that I would spend the time with my camera. I have many things to learn about it and I seem not to have any uninterrupted stretches of time at home. So I took my camera, a full battery, an empty card, the manual and another book on photography.
After breakfast, I sat down with the book. I read a few pages, checked my camera's manual for specifics, found the appropriate buttons on the camera, read a few more pages and repeated the entire process. As is often the case, the more I read, the more I realized that I did not know. After this "classroom" session, I set out on the retreat center grounds to take some pictures.
Texas in June is monochromatic - brown with a slight hint of green. I had a hard time finding a shot that jumped out and said "take me". Truthfully, I was not really looking for a "good picture", I was hoping to play with some different settings on my camera. This I did accomplish.
We our group gathered to come out of silence together, everyone was sharing the fruits of their quiet time. Some people read from their journals; others read poems they has written; still others read passages from Scripture that spoke to their day; some remained in silence; and I confessed that I had spent the day with my camera. Several people asked to see the pictures, but I had intentionally not taken my computer so I really had no way to share. I'm sure they all thought I had wasted the day sleeping!
When I got home, I put the card in my computer and looked at the images. Though there are no outstanding artsy pictures, I did accomplish my goal for the weekend. I can see in the shots I took those things that I read about. I fell good about what I accomplished though I don't have much to outwardly show for it. Several people asked if I would email pictures once I had had the opportunity to look at them. I offer this one.
This was the one burst of color that I found. I don't mean to imply that the retreat center where we were was not pretty because it was. There were many tall trees and bark covered paths that wound through the wooded areas. There just was not much color variation. I found this flower on a bush outside the house where we stayed.
I still don't know where the other four days of the past week went. I hope that I can make a better accounting of the coming week!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Sausage, Silliness, and Solstice
We often say that "today was the longest day" when referring to a day that was not so good having gone on way longer than we wish it had. As we celebrate the summer solstice, today really was the longest day. I had a great day so for me I mean this only in the most literal sense.
Like most Saturday's, there were chores to be done, but a few days ago a few of my friends and I made plans to enjoy all of today's sunlight at the lake. We live only about a mile from the lake so you would think that we would make frequent visits. We used to, but in the last few years we have not been at all. In fact, none of us could remember when we were last there. (I must clarify one thing. Texas has only one natural lake and ours ain't it. Lake Ray Roberts was built by the Corps of Engineers in the mid eighties.)
Eight of us had a general discussion of food and who would bring what, we agreed on a time to meet and that was all the planning we did. As is often the case with such events, everything was terrific. We had a nice meal with chicken, sausage, steak, grilled corn, several salads, and awesome banana bread. We also managed to make it out there with charcoal, cooking and serving utensils, paper goods (down to our own roll of toilet paper, which I am happy to report was not necessary), and plastic wear. The only thing that we forgot was a trash bag. We managed.
We really did nothing but talk, eat, and be silly. How fun is that? I think that if we all had more evenings like the eight of us had tonight, a much happier society would emerge.
This is the summer solstice sunset on Lake Ray Roberts
Like most Saturday's, there were chores to be done, but a few days ago a few of my friends and I made plans to enjoy all of today's sunlight at the lake. We live only about a mile from the lake so you would think that we would make frequent visits. We used to, but in the last few years we have not been at all. In fact, none of us could remember when we were last there. (I must clarify one thing. Texas has only one natural lake and ours ain't it. Lake Ray Roberts was built by the Corps of Engineers in the mid eighties.)
Eight of us had a general discussion of food and who would bring what, we agreed on a time to meet and that was all the planning we did. As is often the case with such events, everything was terrific. We had a nice meal with chicken, sausage, steak, grilled corn, several salads, and awesome banana bread. We also managed to make it out there with charcoal, cooking and serving utensils, paper goods (down to our own roll of toilet paper, which I am happy to report was not necessary), and plastic wear. The only thing that we forgot was a trash bag. We managed.
We really did nothing but talk, eat, and be silly. How fun is that? I think that if we all had more evenings like the eight of us had tonight, a much happier society would emerge.
This is the summer solstice sunset on Lake Ray Roberts
In the midst of all of the fun and food, I did not check my camera settings before I took the first picture. I share with you a serious photographic error but a kind of cool picture. This is straight out of the camera and I have no idea what a did. 
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