Author: admin

In this spinning, hectic life it is sometimes hard to even imagine slowing down enough to experience anything like stillness.

And yet, nearly all spiritual paths teach about the importance of precious moments in contemplation.

In fact, until we allow ourselves to quiet the mind and settle into the silence, it can be nearly impossible to listen to and learn from that still small voice of the Divine.

And it is from that guidance that we can learn faith, patience and hope.

“Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.”

– Pablo Neruda

Let’s stop for one second,’ wrote Pablo Neruda in his poem A Callarse, which is translated as Keeping Quiet or Keeping Still. The poem is a manifesto for the very personal and very political act of doing nothing. In it, he imagined a world that stops to catch its breath for a moment, in the way that much of the planet is currently on hiatus from the hum of its usual activity, and he pondered the ‘sudden strangeness’ that would emerge. A beautiful and touching poem about the sadness of ‘never understanding ourselves’ and how simply stopping and listening to the silence might bring us together with a new kind of wisdom.

Keeping Quiet

And now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let’s not speak in any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fisherman in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas,
wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about,
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.

Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve,
and you keep quiet and I will go.

Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

It seems these days that the most compelling and front-and-center lessons are all about radical acceptance and surrender. That has certainly shown up more often in this blog over the last few weeks and months.

I’ve experienced times when the world seems to have flipped over or isn’t recognizable.

The day my mother died, I remember standing in the airport after rushing home from a conference on the news that she was dying. I had just learned that she passed while I was flying home. I stood there in the Arrival pick up, weeping uncontrollably. Attracting some stares and one person who asked if she could help.

As I looked at all the traffic and all the people, I couldn’t believe they were still going about their lives as usual. How did they not recognize that the world had just disintegrated and been pieced back together in strange, unfamiliar ways?

I have had similar experiences after other great losses. The most recent one was on the morning of November 6th, when I woke up to hear that a majority of my fellow citizens had decided we needed an autocratic felon and disruptor to be our next president.

That event has undoubtedly led to this ongoing need to consider surrender and radical acceptance.

So, when I was sent this video of a speech by the remarkable and wise Brene Brown, I decided I wanted to share it here.

Let It End, Let It Hurt, Let It Heal, Let It Go: Embrace the Power of Moving On BRENE BROWN SPEECH

This week, I watched a memorial for a dear friend who recently moved on to fly to new places.

I watched as the golden sun moved on further to the south and left us in the cold darkness.

I’ve witnessed the leaves letting go to move on and make soil and room for new sprouts.

I’ve heard precious stories on our End of Life Conversations podcast of so many compassionate beloveds who share about their caring for, loving, and holding humans and more than humans who move on.

This poem spoke deeply to me in this time of reflection on all that moves on but is still with us and remembering the promise of resurrection.

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I’m Right Here by John Roedel

“I miss you.”
“I’m right here next to you”
“But I can’t see you.”
“Then close your eyes and feel me.”
“Oh. Oh. Oh. There you are.”

“Here I am, my love. I am here.”

your beloved
~ they aren’t gone

~ they are right here

it’s just that they have changed forms

it’s just that they were the lake that eventually became the rolling thunderhead

it’s just that they were the seed that eventually became the lush apple tree

it’s just that they were the fistful of wet clay that eventually became the cup of eternity

your beloved
~they aren’t gone

~ they are right here

and they’re holding you as you tremble

and they’re dancing in the swirling galaxies of tears that are forming in your eyes

and they’re whispering your name softly between the silent gaps of your thumping heartbeat

and they’re gently blowing on the hairs that are rising on your arms right now

your beloved
~they aren’t gone

~ they are right here

and they know that you love them still and forever

because love is an endless string of warm sunlit
memories tied between two people

because love is a circle drawn on the wall of time
in permanent red marker

because love is the act of holding hands with
another person and counting to infinity by twos

your beloved
~they aren’t gone

~ they are right here

and they are leaving love notes for you everywhere

that over and over and
in a hundred million different ways
say the exact same thing:

“we have not been separated
we have not been separated
we have not been separated”

your beloved
~they aren’t gone

~ they are right here

and they want me to tell you something:

they are
so proud
of you

~ john roedel

This week I’ve been reflecting on what it means to truly surrender. As we look at the suffering planet and our suffering siblings, human and more than human, how do we say, “OK, I accept that?”

I heard an interview with my friend and teacher to many, Mirabai Starr, where she was discussing this. I think what she said was right on, and I’ll paraphrase what particularly resonated.

On our mystic path (that she believes all of us are on, whether we know it or acknowledge it or not), we truly only have this moment. The past is only memories, and the future is forever unknown. And so, we can choose to accept everything that is real in this moment, including the danger, the fear, the despair, and the pain. Also included in equal measure are love, joy, new births, laughter, and community.

But being in that state of surrender and radical acceptance doesn’t imply we just sit back and give up. Our work does not change. There is still injustice that we must address. There are still people hurting that we must succor. There is still a planet suffering that we must care for. There are still leaves falling so that new life can arise.

I love the lyrics from a song by Carrie Newcomer:
“Cause leaves don’t drop they just let go
And make a space for seeds to grow
And every season brings a change
A tree is what a seed contains
To die and live is life’s refrain”

So, while I choose to live in the moment in radical acceptance and surrender, I also wake up each morning asking for guidance toward the work I can do to benefit life on this gorgeous planet.

Here are two poems that say this well. The first is a poem I wrote as my first effort to create poetry in Espanol. The second is from the wonderful poet, David Whyte.

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Entrego todo (I surrender all)

El arroyo no puede volver
No quiere volver
No necesita volver

The creek can’t go back
Doesn’t want to go back
Doesn’t need to go back

Sólo es
Fluye
Limpia
Pop
It only is
It flows
It cleans

Belleza casi dolorosa
Exquisito, profundo, misterioso
Ahogando todos mis sentidos

Beauty nearly painful
Exquisite, profound, mysterious
Drowning all my senses

Creo que
Yo no puedo volver
No quiero volver
No necesito volver

I think
I cannot go back
Don’t want to go back
Don’t need to go back

Yo solo soy.
Entrego todo.

I only am.
I surrender all.

~ By Rev Wakil David Matthews

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SOMETIMES

Sometimes
if you move carefully
through the forest,
breathing
like the ones
in the old stories,
who could cross
a shimmering bed of leaves
without a sound,
you come
to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
with tiny
but frightening requests,
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
and
to stop what you
are becoming
while you do it,
questions
that can make
or unmake
a life,
questions
that have patiently
waited for you,
questions
that have no right
to go away.

‘Sometimes’ From ‘Everything Is Waiting for You’
and ‘River Flow: New and Selected Poems’
© David Whyte and Many Rivers Press

Not long ago an illuminated soul left us for the other side of the veil. Her name was Barbara Holmes and this week’s Center for Action and Contemplation newsletter was a tribute to her wisdom.

All week, in one of those states of awareness when the synchronicities and connections rise like luminescent bubbles to decorate the swirling pond of my heart, I’ve encountered one after another conversation, essay, steam of thought; all reminding me to notice that we are not separate beings.

Thomas Moore notes, “The earth is not a platform for human life. It’s a living being. We’re not on it but part of it. It’s health is our health.”

In a poignant and timely reprint of a piece she wrote the last time the orange one rose to power, my dear friend Kathleen Basheera Ritchie in her I Lean Liminal blog said, “We may, through this means, discern the intimate omniscience of Nature—how everything is happening all at once, everywhere, in one all-encompassing, harmonious symphony. This realization effectively undermines belief in a hierarchy of Nature, especially one that positions ourselves at the top—even, somehow, above Nature. Adherence to such a system only exposes our ignorance.”

With all that wisdom echoing and splashing in my soul, the following from the CAC newsletter and Barbara Holmes, speaking to ways we can practice resetting our priorites to find the work that must be done to bring about that connected and sustainable works. It seemed important to share.

***************

We can contemplate and consider together. We can expand our spiritual and cosmic vocabulary and allow the mysteries of life to permeate every cell. We have waited long enough. It’s time to take the transcendent leap forward in hopes of personal and communal healing as well as a shared cosmic future. 
—Barbara Holmes

What Are Our Priorities?

Dr. Barbara Holmes and Rev. Donny Bryant hosted The Cosmic We podcast together for five seasons. They considered our cosmic relatedness as the organizing principle of the universe and interviewed guests in the overlapping fields of science, mysticism, spirituality, and the creative arts. In this episode, “Dr. B” shares the call she heard to shift her priorities in the latter half of her life.  

The journey of life is absolutely a sacred journey, but we don’t know that when we’re younger. We don’t want to think about life in terms of a sacred journey, because we don’t know for certain where we came from, and we don’t know for certain where we’re going…. 

In the everyday maelstrom of life, people don’t want to think about any of that. They just want to get through their day…. But when we get to the halfway point in our lives, we begin to realize that all the things that we have accumulated don’t mean a whole lot. We can’t take them with us when we die. As we age, we begin to take into account what really matters in life: family, relationships, love, commitment, service to others, all that matters…. It warms your heart to work with others. It changes who you are to lead with love….

I’m on the other side of fifty now, and all of my priorities have shifted. The ambition and all of the things that I was striving for don’t make a lot of sense at this point. The fulfillment comes in doing what you are led to do. In the Christian tradition, the Holy Spirit is supposed to lead you into all truth. I see the Holy Spirit as a guiding light—we’re walking by the path and there’s a lamp unto our feet that helps us to know what to do, how to do it, and to be still.   

This is where contemplation comes in. It is impossible to shift priorities if we are in a constant, busy, frenetic lifestyle. There has to be that pause, that breath, that waiting, that willingness to be still until we know. Be still and know—but the stillness doesn’t immediately lead to knowing. At first, we have to be still, and then we have to be patient until the knowing comes about. 

Read this meditation on cac.org.

After the horrible shock of the election last week, one thing I am thinking about is the intense need for us to find a way to reconnect with our siblings of all stripes. To do so, we have to remember the indigenous way of thinking where there is no separation between our souls and the energy and essence of everything we can sense.

Hazrat Inayat Khan, the great Sufi teacher says, “In man’s search for truth, the first lesson and the last is love. There must be no separation, no “I am” and “thou art not”. Until man has arrived at that selfless consciousness, he cannot know life and truth.”

And Richard Rohr in this week’s Daily Meditations, says “The greatest dis-ease facing us right now is our profound and painful sense of disconnection. Yet many are discovering that the Infinite Flow of the Trinity—and our practical, felt experience of this gift—offers the utterly grounded reconnection with God, with self, with others, and with our world.”

And he adds, “The whole gospel message is radical union with God, with neighbor, and even with ourselves. I think that’s why so many people are drawn to church each week—to receive communion and eventually, hopefully, realize that we are in communion.”

Randy and Edith Woodley are also quoted this week saying, “Traditional Native Americans feel a sense of interconnectedness at a deep level. In Indigenous thinking, there is no such thing as separation of one part of our life from another. ”

And I love this practice from James Finley that they offered this week:

Loving with the Mind of Christ

He will answer, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.” —Matthew 25: 45

James Finley suggests that to put on the “mind of Christ” is to experience our connection to God and others, and to act accordingly:   

To enter the mind of Christ is to realize our oneness with the faces we see on television in the evening news. It is to realize we are one with that homeless person we saw going through the trash receptacle. The woman at the local market, the man who comes to check our gas meter, and all who have hurt us, abandoned us, and have otherwise wronged us, along with all the women and men we have never met—we are to realize that we are equally, fully one with every blessed one of them. We are to give witness to this awareness … and we are to put this love into action by the ways in which we treat others, and by what we are willing to do for them as expressions of our love for them.  

What comes through in the Gospels is that Jesus was someone to reckon with. There was a no-nonsense, straight-from-the-shoulder truthfulness about the way he related to others. He was not always necessarily nice. Jesus never said, “Blessed are the nice.” But Jesus was always loving to the core, and in being so he gave witness to our lifelong journey of learning to be loving to the core as well ….  

Entering the mind of Christ is not a premature, proclaimed love that merely clamps a lid on unacknowledged anger and hurt. It is not writing everyone a blank check of boundless love that pretends we are something we are not. It is rather learning day by day to be transformed in all that love is asking of us in learning to be a truly awake, Christlike human being…. A lifetime of recognizing and yielding to a Christlike love for all [people] … as children of God enlarges the heart to divine proportions.  

Read this meditation on cac.org.

This has been an exceptionally difficult week for many of us. There are so many responses out there that I won’t add my own, except to note that I am resting in practice, prayer, community, and “fierce unrelenting hope” (quote from Melanie Demore).

Instead, I will share this prose/poem that has been arising:

Tuesday night I prayed to the ancestors to save our country
Instead we received a possibly terminal diagnosis

Wednesday morning I woke up angry, depressed, and anxious
And cursed the ancestors for abandoning us.

Thursday morning I woke up passionate and dedicated to the fight
And asked the ancestors to forgive me.

Friday morning I woke up afraid for my children and my marginalized siblings
And I prayed for support and guidance and began the work.

Each day for the foreseeable future I will wake up facing this grief and fear
And, inshallah, I will remember my connection to the All and stand up again.

A group I have been working with for some time is called Third Act. It is the creation of Bill McKibben who was also the founder of 350.org. His mission forever, has been to do all we can to arrest the tragedy of climate change.

As he got older, he says he noticed that, though young people were doing excellent work and continued to be on the front lines, there were people of his age (60 and older) who were still passionate about social justice and saving our dear planet.

He created Third Act as an organization where all of us in those later years could work together and use our resources to make a difference. They say that their simple goals are to save the planet and save our democracy!

I am part of a sub-group called Third Act Faith, specifically for people of any faith tradition. We have hosted several sessions for folks to find solace and grounding in the days leading up to this incredibly important and frightening election. I encourage anyone who is interested to check out their calendar of events (there will be plenty more after the election no matter the outcome).

I recommend this video of Bill McKibben speaking at a Unitarian church about Third Act and its goals and vision. Take the 20 minutes to be inspired and to find out if there is something there that calls you to action – https://youtu.be/JJ3pvVsSpag?si=AiPyHKlSenin6mUO

Especially now with the wild flows of energy, life, fear, despair, joy, love, compassion, and beauty rocking us and spinning us around, the idea of a Cosmic Dance makes a lot of sense to me.

I was recently referred to Joyce Rupp, a writer who has written an excellent book about this dance. When I looked her up, I found this wonderful piece from another of my favorite sources, the Center for Action and Contemplation. I copied and shared it here in full, as it says it all so well.

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Spiritual writer Joyce Rupp understands all of creation as part of a “cosmic dance”:

No one person has been able to fully communicate this amazing dance of life to me, but Thomas Merton comes close with his description in New Seeds of Contemplation. Merton’s use of the phrase “cosmic dance” set my heart singing. When I read it, I felt my early childhood experience [in nature] of the inner dance being echoed and affirmed:

“When we are alone on a starlit night; when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children; when we know love in our own hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet Bashō we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash—at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the “newness,” the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, provide a glimpse of the cosmic dance.” [1]

Rupp continues:

The soul of the world and our own souls intertwine and influence one another. There is one Great Being who enlivens the dance of our beautiful planet and everything that exists. The darkness of outer space, the greenness of our land and the blue of our seas, the breath of every human and creature, all are intimately united in a cosmic dance of oneness with the Creator’s breath of love. [2]

Rupp celebrates the restoration that takes place by her conscious participation in the dance:

There is such power in the cosmic dance. Each time I resonate with this energy I sink into my soul and find a wide and wondrous connection with each part of my life. I come home to myself, feeling welcomed and restored to kinship with the vast treasures of Earth and Universe. I am re-balanced between hope and despair, slowed down in my greedy eagerness to accomplish and produce no matter the cost to my soul, beckoned to sip of the flavors of creation in order to nourish my depths….

Whenever and however I join with the cosmic dance, it jogs my memory and gives me a kind of “second sight,” a glimpse of the harmony and unity that is much deeper and stronger than the forces of any warring nation or individual. My trust that good shall endure is deepened. My joy of experiencing beauty is strengthened. My resolve to continually reach out beyond my own small walls is renewed. The energy that leaps and twirls in each part of existence commands my attention and draws me into a cosmic embrace. I sense again the limitless love that connects us all. I come home to that part of myself that savors kinship, births compassion, and welcomes tenderness. I re-discover that I am never alone. Always the dance joins me to what “is.” [3]

References:
[1] Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation (New York: New Directions Books, 1961), 296–297.

[2] Joyce Rupp, introduction to The Cosmic Dance: An Invitation to Experience Our Oneness (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2002), 10, 11.

[3] Rupp, Cosmic Dance, 17, 19.

We have a prayer in my Sufi community in which we invoke the love, harmony, and beauty of the Only Being who is united with all illuminated souls forming the embodiment of…

And here, in the prayer as taught us by the great Sufi teacher Hazrat Inayat Kahn, the next word is “Master” – the embodiment of the master.

When he gave us this invocation, I feel certain he wasn’t considering that word the way it feels in our current world. From all I have read and know of his work, I expect he was referring to the mastery of our ego and the ability to be present with skill and practice.

Yet, that word holds unpleasant resonances for many today. So, our community often changes the word ‘master’ to another word—usually beginning in ‘M’.

I have heard people use ‘mother’, ‘mystery’, ‘message’, etc. All of which have a sweetness and their own resonance.

But my favorite, as I strive to remember and remind us of our connection to the all in all, is “Mycelia”.

The Only Being, united with all the illuminated cells that form the embodiment of the mycelia!

For me, the most resonant embodiment is that of the network of energy, love, harmony, and light that connects us to everything on this earth and indeed the universe. The recently understood mycelial networks of fungal systems seem to me to be the best possible metaphor and, in fact, the best physical representation of those connections.

A new favorite author and teacher, Sophie Strand, is hosting a workshop that I highly recommend and encourage you to consider – Myths as Maps Workshop

This excerpt she recently posted is so inspiring and germane to this week’s blog, that I share it here:

“Fungal systems are constituted by thread like mycelial networks below ground. With no predetermined body plan, they become maps of relationship wherever they grow. They branch and fork and fuse to constellate the connective network of other species and beings. I like to say that just as when you pour fungi into an ecosystem it becomes a map of relationships, so should your myths pour themselves into your web of kinship, becoming a map of your ecology of relationships. Fungi are maps of ecosystems, so should myths represent webs of relatedness rather than a single species of narrative perspective. Just like fungi taught plants how to root into the soil, so do myths teach us how to root into relations with our actual homes.” ~ Sophie Strand

May we all re-discover the mythologies that remind us of our mycelial connection to everything, everywhere. From that place of remembrance of the love, harmony, and beauty of the Only Being, it is impossible not to do all we can to sustain, support, and preserve the health and thriving of all that is.

May it be so.