As we witness the last of the blazing fire-colored leaves released to the welcoming earth, this poetry by Safire Rose felt perfect and appropriate.

She Let Go

by Safire Rose

She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her.

And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…

Life has been full to overflowing lately so these posts have fallen off a bit. I hope to get back to regular posting soon.

The always wise Mary Oliver helps us remember that every moment is sacred.

MOCKINGBIRDS

This morning
two mockingbirds
in the green field
were spinning and tossing

the white ribbons
of their songs
into the air.
I had nothing

better to do
than listen.
I mean this
seriously.

In Greece,
a long time ago,
an old couple
opened their door

to two strangers
who were,
it soon appeared,
not men at all,

but gods.
It is my favorite story–
how the old couple
had almost nothing to give

but their willingness
to be attentive–
but for this alone
the gods loved them

and blessed them–
when they rose
out of their mortal bodies,
like a million particles of water

from a fountain,
the light
swept into all the corners
of the cottage,

and the old couple,
shaken with understanding,
bowed down–
but still they asked for nothing

but the difficult life
which they had already.
And the gods smiled, as they vanished,
clapping their great wings.

Wherever it was
I was supposed to be
this morning–
whatever it was I said

I would be doing–
I was standing
at the edge of the field–
I was hurrying

through my own soul,
opening its dark doors–
I was leaning out;
I was listening. 

~ Mary Oliver ~ 

This poignant prayer comes from a fellow Chaplaincy Institute graduate:

A MYSTIC’S CLIMATE PRAYER

REV DR JOHN ROBINSON

Divine Consciousness of Life, Earth and Cosmos, God of all names and none, holy Presence dwelling in every creature, we come to you on our knees, in guilt and shame, in sorrow and dread, admitting horrific crimes against Creation. Listening to the Earth’s dying cries, we acknowledge our sins of arrogance, apathy, selfishness, plunder and rape. Our “stewardship” of Creation has been a tragic joke. In failure and profound remorse, we humbly seek forgiveness and guidance – we have completely lost our way and stand to lose so much more.

We know you, Divine One. We share your Being and Consciousness. We are you when we cease pretending to be someone else, someone separate and superior, someone in charge. In abject surrender, in ego-shattering fear and grief, in naked helplessness, we seek the only path home: we return to you. As the fires and storms of human foolishness consume our grandiosity, we ask you to receive us, Divine One, help us return to Creation.

Born of Earth, we can live nowhere else. We are the latest blossom of your enchantingly beautiful, infinitely mysterious, love-drenched creativity – the 14-billion-year evolution of yourself – and our home is here. Can a fish live out of water? Can a bird fly with no air? Can humans survive the cold toxic radiation of space? Desperate plans, false solutions, more foolishness.

But what can we do? Divine One, what do you need from us? Even as we ask, words burst from sacred consciousness:

“Be still. Be silent. Stop talking. Turn off TV and cell phone. Go outside. Open wide your eyes. I shine before you as Creation: vibrant, colorful, alive; the symphony of your life and destiny. Look intensely. Look without thought. Open your senses: seasons of Earth, power of wind, greenness of plant, wetness of rain, warmth of sun, smell of soil, abundance of life, chatter of bird and squirrel, busyness of ant and worm, darkness of night, love-making everywhere, all rising in the holiness of Creation. You don’t have to figure this out because you are Creation. Let the one you were born to be take you home. Creation will heal you, then your tenderness, joy, and adoration will heal Creation.”

May the Earth bless and keep us,
May truth lead the way,
May the ancestors see our efforts,
May peace finally stay.

May the heart inform our journey,
May Creation bring us home,
May our lives be deeply planted,
And may we know we’re not alone.

As we move through transitions, this is a reminder to be present for and mindful of the inner, the outer, the heaven, the earth, the star, and the stone. (from Panhala – To subscribe to Panhala, send a blank email to Panhala-subscribe@yahoogroups.com )

Evening 

The sky puts on the darkening blue coat
held for it by a row of ancient trees;
you watch: and the lands grow distant in your sight,
one journeying to heaven, one that falls; 

and leave you, not at home in either one,
not quite so still and dark as the darkened houses,
not calling to eternity with the passion
of what becomes a star each night, and rises; 

and leave you (inexpressibly to unravel)
your life, with its immensity and fear,
so that, now bounded, now immeasurable,
it is alternatively stone in you and star.

~ Rainer Maria Rilke ~ (The Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell)

This beautiful set of practices comes from the latest issue of Emergence Magazine ( https://emergencemagazine.org/ )

Inspired from his essay The Voices of Birds and the Language of Belonging, David G. Haskell created this five-part practice for listening to the language of birds. The human capacity to take in sound evolved over thousands of years, in direct relationship to the sensory, living world. Our attentiveness to the voices of other species provided us with vital information. In today’s age of ecological crisis, we again find ourselves in a situation where attentive listening is required for a mutual thriving, even survival. Bird sounds offer an opportunity to reclaim this ancient connection. 

Step outside and listen.  

Follow the link below to see the practices he offers:

https://emergencemagazine.org/story/five-practices-for-listening-to-the-language-of-birds/

In a practice for one of my Master’s program classes this week, I noticed that I felt a sense of shame at not being adequate to the immense needs of our planet and our children.

I felt a deep sense of desperation that nothing I am doing or will do will ever be enough.

Have any of you ever felt those feelings?

Yesterday, I was blessed to spend time in the forest at Hawthorn Farm, and as I sat with those feelings, I found myself weeping with pain and sadness.

After some time with those deep feelings and their expression in tears, this poem arose:

Weeping in frustration
and sorrow – finally
drained of tears (for now).

I open my eyes and breathe in
the scent of mushrooms exploding
in slow motion out
of the moist earth.

Breezes stirring
in the trees and freeing
the many-colored leaves
to do their final dance
to the welcoming forest floor.

Clouds of so many shapes scuttering
across the deep blue
creating moving fake mountains over
the newly snow-dusted Olympic range.

Out of sorrow, joy. 
Out of tears, prayers.
Out of suffering, gladness.
Out of darkness, light.

I hold
sorrow, tears, suffering, darkness
In my left hand.
I hold
joy, prayer, gladness, light
In my right.

Together they make me whole.
Together they fill my soul.

In this posting from Matthew Fox, he speaks to the inspiration Howard Thurman received from the young people attending the March on DC in 1963.

I am often asked and have often wondered myself, what good our protests and marches actually do.

Thurman notices and is inspired by the way these young people in 1963, (and I would suggest those today involved in the Climate Strike, Gun Control, Black Lives Matter, and other causes) demonstrate such courage and have “caught the spiritual overtones” of the activism work they are engaged in.

Matthew Fox asks: Are we becoming “attuned to the spiritual dimensions of what we are about today” in our efforts at rebelling against our and other species extinction?  At addressing Climate Change?  At realizing that the peril of the planet is also a perspective that allows all generations but also all religions and all nationalities and all peoples and all tribes to work together t combat a common enemy—the death of the planet as we know it? 

Check out the full posting here:

Another Striking Observation from Howard Thurman about Youth & Spiritual Leadership

ACT GREAT

What is the key
To untie the knot of your mind’s suffering?

What
Is the esoteric secret
To slay the crazed one whom each of us
Did wed

And who can ruin
Our heart’s and eye’s exquisite tender
Landscape?

Hafiz has found
Two emerald words that
Restored
Me

That I now cling to as I would sacred
Tresses of my Beloved’s
Hair:

Act great.
My dear, always act great.

What is the key
To untie the knot of the mind’s suffering?

Benevolent thought, sound
And movement.

~ Hafiz ~
 (The Gift – versions of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky)

I took a walk to find some air and found, instead,
a chill that lives in the marrow.
The sky was colorless,
lifeless: no bird, no insect, no visible sun or moving cloud.
Even the Monarch slept.
The earth, the land, the hills, the path
all void of bloom, muddy and soggy from winter.

The lake was frozen
though the mallards seemed to find a path.
“Keep moving,” I whispered to them.
“Just keep moving.
All this is fleeting. Keep moving.
Despite it all, find the stream that flows.”

Then, suddenly, as if they heard my supplication,
they turned toward me. One after another in a line
following the leader, they came ashore.
I sat awhile and watched them do what ducks tend to do.

The wind picked up, the chill thickened, and I thought,
I must forgive what was. I simply have too much to lose:
dignity, trust, my dreams, a sense of self,
faith, love, imagination,
joy, confidence,
God.

Then just as quickly as they came ashore,
They returned to the pond.
“Keep moving,” I whispered to them.
“Just keep moving.
All this is fleeting. Keep moving.
Despite it all, find the stream that flows.”

Forgiveness is like a stream in a winter pond. It finds a path through the ice. Keep moving forward toward goodness and love. Keep moving away from hurt, keep moving toward wholeness, so you can regain what you have lost. Let the pain be as fleeting as the winter chill. Let love and wholeness abide. Find the path through the ice. — Rabbi Karyn Kedar, The Bridge to Forgiveness: Stories and Prayers for finding God and Restoring Wholeness (2007), pgs. 21-22.