Listening to the Wind...

I woke up to the sound of the wind blowing hard against the house. And almost immediately I remembered that in Hebrew the word for wind is the same as the word for Spirit. I love knowing that because it helps me pay attention to Sacred Presence in random, ordinary, mundane moments, like waking up to a wind storm. In this case I responded by writing a haiku (one of the ways I process the experience of Sacred Presence).

the wind is blowing 

perhaps it’s Spirit 

I’ll try to listen 

I’m not sure what Spirit might be trying to say to me today, but apparently I need to keep listening because the wind has been blowing hard, and loud, and persistent all day long. On several occasions I have found myself feeling anxious as the windows rattle and the trees in the yard sway ominously. But then I remember my haiku and I turn my attention once again to listening. 

What message from Spirit do I need to hear in this moment? What is preventing me from hearing that message? And why am I feeling anxious about Spirit’s persistent efforts to get through to me? The answer to all three questions is the same - “I don’t know!” I don’t even know if it’s Spirit. It might just be the weather. Except that even if it’s “just” the weather it’s probably also Spirit, because that’s how Spirit speaks. God speaks through the ordinary stuff of our lives, in a language that sounds remarkably similar to the wind, or the rain, or a friend’s voice, or a baby’s cry, or the stillness at dawn. The trick to understanding is to pay attention and slow down long enough to really listen, not just with our ears but with our hearts. Most of the time the message won’t be simple enough or clear enough to put down in concise and unambiguous words. Listening to the Wind is more art than science. 

In this moment all I have is the barest of hints as to what the message might be. So I’ll keep listening. I’ll keep paying attention. Because I’m quite certain that Spirit isn’t finished speaking yet.

Being Present Now!

One of the lessons I have been working on in my life for quite some time now is being present in each moment. It doesn’t mean ignoring what has come before or letting go of dreams about what might yet be, but it does mean seeking to avoid allowing either past or future to prevent me from fully participating in the only moment I have available to me, which is the eternal NOW. If I am stewing over something that happened yesterday, or worrying about what might happen tomorrow, then I am not really able to be present to the possibilities which are right in front of me now. If I want to encounter God’s Sacred Presence, now is the only moment when that can happen. These past few months, when so many of life’s routines have been upended and warped beyond recognition, the importance of this lesson has become clearer than ever before. We’ve never really been in control of very much (if anything at all), but we have had the illusion of control. In the upheaval and uncertainty of our current circumstances, even the illusion has been shattered. The only thing I can really do is to show up, as fully and authentically as I can manage, and open myself honestly to this moment in which I find myself. Whenever I manage to actually do this, however imperfectly, I find it to be a profoundly powerful experience. I don’t have to look for beauty, I simply begin to recognize that I am immersed in it. I don’t have to seek peace, I simply notice that I am experiencing it. I don’t have to search for God, I simply become aware that God is (and always has been) present. Whatever is going on around me and within me, whether it be the Covid-19 crisis, or the political and social strife that seems so all-encompassing, or the garden variety stresses which arise in the course of living my life, I discover that I am better equipped to face them because I am no longer consumed by them. At the end of the day, or at the end of all my days, it will not be the mistakes of yesterday or the worries about tomorrow that will matter. What I will remember and be grateful for will be the moments when I have managed to be fully present. That is where the awe and wonder are to be found. That is where Sacred Presence is to be encountered. That is how I want to live – fully alive – fully present – now – always NOW!

Love One Another! Let's Try That!

We are now half way through the year, and I would be willing to bet that none of us could have predicted how this year would unfold. But unfold it has, and is still doing so. The challenges are many and varied, and they seem to just keep coming. The drastic measures put in place to reduce the spread of Covid-19 made a huge difference. Here in Montana the growth of new cases almost completely stopped for more than a month. But then the restrictions were relaxed, and now the numbers are once again on the rise. The problem of systemic racism has been with us for a long time, and this year we find ourselves confronted with it yet again, this time in ways which seem finally to be getting people’s attention. But still there is resistance and push back. These are but two examples. Some days it seems as if everywhere we turn there is some new challenge crying out for our attention. People everywhere are hurting, and all too often there don’t seem to be any good answers. But for those of us who seek to be people of faith, having no good answer need not stop us, because it is not just up to us to have all the answers or solve all the problems. We can only do what it is within our power to do, and trust in God to be with us in the process. It does mean, however, that we need to step up and do our part. As the sign I carried at the Human Rights Rally last week-end at the Capitol said, “Jesus said, ‘Love one another.’ Let’s try that!” Not just some mushy, feel-good love. We need to be about the business of whole-hearted, full-bodied love – a love that gets our hands dirty – a love that might make us uncomfortable. It means we are called to take the steps we can take to keep each other safe. Put on a mask (it’s to protect others from what you may unknowingly be carrying). Practice appropriate social distancing. Avoid crowds. It means we are called to listen to those who are hurting, and stand with them as they proclaim their truth. When I went to the Human Rights Rally (with my sign) I was prepared for a reporter to come talk to me (none did – but I was prepared). My response was going to be, and still will be at any future rally I attend, “I’m here to stand with, not to speak for. I encourage you to go find a person of color, or an indigenous person, or an LGBTQ person. Hear their pain. Listen to their story.” We are called to share the love of God through the living of our lives. As St. Francis once said, “Preach the gospel every day. If necessary, use words.” In these very challenging days in which we find ourselves, we cannot always (or ever) choose or control the challenges we face, but we can choose and control how we will face them. Love one another. Let’s start there!

64 Trips Around the Sun

Today is my 64^th  birthday. It’s taken me a long time to get here. A lifetime to be exact. In units we use to measure the passage of time it’s been: 64 years, or 768 months, or 23,376 days, or 561,024 hours, or 33,661,440 minutes, or 2,019,686,400 seconds. As I said, a long time. And it’s been a long journey from there to here – approximately 37,376,000,000 miles (64 trips around the sun). Fortunately I didn’t have to walk the whole way, because that would have required approximately 65,781,760,000,000 steps.

All along this journey I have been profoundly blessed in far more ways than I can count. To quote an old Jimmy Buffet song, “Some of it’s magic, and some of it’s tragic, but I’ve had a good life all the way.” I have been loved, and cared for, and trusted. I have been surrounded by beauty that left me speechless. I have experienced life-shattering loss. I have lived in Sacred Presence. I have caught glimpses of the realm beyond what my senses are capable of perceiving. I have done my best to learn, and grow, and love along the way. I have taken approximately 591,037,455 breaths, and every single one of them has been a gift. In the words of Lila Flood, “Each breath I take is through Thy grace.”

I am now older than I have ever been, and younger than I will ever be again. There are more days behind me than there are in front of me. I do not know how many breaths I have left, but I do know that it is my intention to be grateful for each of them. I’m not done yet. There is still more loving left to do. There is still more beauty left to witness. There is still more of me left to discover. There is still more life left to share. In the words of Richard Bach, “Here is the test to find whether your mission on Earth is finished: if you’re alive, it isn’t.”

It's All About The Love

It’s Father’s Day and I am qualified to celebrate not because of biology but because of love. None of my daughters are genetically related to me. What I share with them is heart connection. And for that I will forever be grateful. Each of them in their own unique ways have enhanced and enriched my life beyond my capacity to express. Before I met them I could not have imagined such a gift. Now I cannot imagine life without them in it. Love comes in all sorts of forms, and arrives by paths beyond our reckoning. The important thing is that it arrives, and when it does that we notice and open to it, embrace it and allow it to embrace us. On this Father’s Day I pause to remember and celebrate the gift of love which has arrived at my doorstep. My life has been forever changed. Gratitude abounds!

Sharing Beauty

For whatever reason (who knows what goes on in my brain), this song came to mind this morning. 

I was thinking about the Sarajevo cellist sharing his gift of music in the midst of the overwhelming insanity and horror of war (a true story, by the way), and that got me thinking about the situation we are currently facing. We don't have bombs dropping like rain, but there is plenty of hatred, bigotry, violence, fear, and general ugliness. It was about then in this rambling internal pondering when I realized that I am trying to do something similar to the cellist in this song. I don't know how to play the cello, but I have an eye for beauty and I own a camera. Sharing my photographs doesn't require the kind of courage which the cellist exhibited, but this morning it occurred to me that our intentions are similar. In the face of overwhelming circumstances we are each called to do what we can, and one of the things I can do is to share beauty. What I'm really trying to do is remind myself, and anyone else who sees my photographs, that "the long forgotten beauty we thought was blown away" is, in fact, still with us, and has the power to help facilitate healing and transformation. I invite you to pay attention to what you are being called to share. When we each step up and do what we can the world will be changed.

Surprised by Grief

It’s been more than 10 years and I can still be surprised by grief. I was listening to random songs on my phone and this one came on. I don’t remember ever hearing it before but I must have because it’s on my phone. It only took a few words and my heart knew where this song was headed. Instantly I was transported back in time as tears started streaming down my face. I haven’t been caught off guard like that in a long time, but it’s nice to know I still can be. And then I heard John McCutcheon singing “Grief has a place at the table, for it’s part of what we’re each made of. And he’ll stay long enough to remind us his mother is love.” My life has been profoundly blessed by the love I have been privileged to share, and that sort of love leaves a mark. Those were holy and sacred tears flowing across my cheeks. I stand in grateful awe at the power of love to transcend time and space as it reminds me how truly blessed I am. I didn’t see it coming, but I’m glad I was there to receive the gift.

Stepping into the Mystery: Random Ponderings from a Sauntering Coddiwompler

In our culture, and even in our churches, we often get pretty stuck in our heads, so full of all those thoughts and ideas and words. We expound on them endlessly. We argue over them. We devote lots and lots of time and energy to exploring them. And they can be important. But, at the same time, they are not the whole story.

God, Spirit, Sacred Presence, the Universe, Mystery, the Holy, the Ineffable, Awe and Wonder. There are lots of words to choose from. Pick one. Pick several. It doesn’t really matter what titles we use – they all point to a reality and an experience beyond the capacity of words to fully capture or express. There is a reality beyond our thoughts and ideas and words. It is a reality that is beyond our ability to control, but within our capacity to experience – anytime and anywhere. The ancient Celts had a concept they referred to as “thin places” – experiences where the veil between this world and the larger reality grows thin. The catch is that we need to pay attention so we don’t miss it.