I’m at the Haden Institute’s summer dream conference. Walking the lake trail, I found this fern in the process of unfurling. It inspired this creation.
Rolled up
In a tight ball of
Fear and uncertainty.
I sense the light,
the air,
the freedom
Calling to me.
The spark of the divine,
The tiny pearl of hope,
The resilient me,
The resilient We
Calls out:
Trust,
Believe,
Let go,
Hope.
Reach toward the light,
Unfurl,
And live.
These mornings, when the world seems so broken,
I skip the news and social media.
Instead, I go outside and contemplate the sky …
Morning dawning in the firmament.
I watch the creatures around me
Doing creaturely things:
Hopping, flying, walking, breathing.
I am, in my little life,
Part of a great, still-beautiful world.
I breathe myself into union
with the One who is never broken.
Who can pass it by?
A tree loaded with fresh fruit.
Poor Eve. Not a chance.
Each morning and evening
The dog and I walk together
Up or down the road.
We startle a rabbit
Somewhere along the way.
The rabbit bounds away into the woods.
JJ wants to follow it.
I fumble for my camera.
The rabbit says to me:
Slow down. Stay alert.
There are treasures nearby
If only you will pay attention.
Be present right now.
Stop multitasking.
Take five deep breaths
And say a prayer of gratitude.
This moment
Every moment
Is a gift.
Let the noises fall away
The chaos and clatter in
my ears
my brain
my heart
All this hubbub in my mind
This turmoil in my spirit
Let it go
Let it flow away
Like the rushing of a river
And in its place …
May there be space
May there be quiet
May there be silence
The healing peace of solitude
There is this part of me
That, if it were not
For the singing of the Wood Thrush,
Would feel so hopeless.
There is this part of me
That, if it were not
For the beauty of the yellow butterfly,
Would find no joy.
There is this part of me
That, if it were not for
The wild abandon of a puppy’s play,
Would sink deep into despair.
In this long, hard season
Of sickness
Of death
Of isolation
Of injustice and fear …
Where is our hope?
Where is our joy, our purpose, our anchor?
Our hope comes from each other.
Though we are apart,
We are woven together in the fabric of love.
Our hope comes from within,
From the heart of courage
That beats inside each living being.
From the essence of the Holy One, Knit into our spirits
Before we were imagined.
Our hope comes from the One
Who said that nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing in all creation
Can separate us from Love.
Love.
Love is our joy,
Our purpose,
Our anchor.
Love.
Love is our hope.
When life has slowed,
And days run into days run into days
I count my time in dog walks and cups of coffee.
I watch the plants,
Reaching toward the sun
Offering beauty …
Blooming, fading, dying away.
When life has slowed,
I count my interactions in phone calls and Zoom windows.
I imagine seeing you,
Our arms thrown around each other in love.
How long until that day?
When life has slowed,
And loss builds upon loss.
We grieve in isolation
Far from comforting rituals.
Wakes and potlucks,
Shared tears and handkerchiefs.
The quiet words of a familiar reading, a favorite song.
The gathering of the family from far and near.
When life has slowed,
And days run into days run into days.
We count the time in sunrises and sunsets,
Breaths in and breaths out.
When life has slowed,
Breathe. Listen. Trust. Love.
We are not alone.
I walked a labyrinth
On a hill
By a lake
Step by step
I walked the path
The journey uphill
And down
Every step
Closer to the center
Every step
Closer to the end
Just like life
The chime sounded to begin an hour of silence.
I started walking up the road,
Trying to find silence in my churned-up monkey brain.
Step, step, step.
Listen for each big and tiny sound.
My shoes on the asphalt, the chickadee’s call,
An airplane above, the wind whispering in tall pines.
Step, step, step.
See all that the eyes can see.
The clouds in a blue sky, the root ball of an upturned tree,
Water flowing down the hill, a patch of blooming daffodils.
I find myself kneeling by the daffodils,
Watching the way the sun shines through them.
Seconds, minutes (hours?) later,
I come back to the reality of the space-time continuum.
I am a twenty-minute walk away from the plenary
Which starts in five minutes.
Step, step, step.
I walk and listen and see
In the spaciousness of silence.
This morning
I saw wildflowers blooming,
Rooted in the cleft of a rock.
Petals waved like
Delicate violet water spouts.
How can it be?
This fragile miracle,
This coming together of seed and soil
Taking root in a granite crag.
We, too, sink
Tender, resilient roots
In precarious places
And bloom.
All the Wonders 