In the flow – Loss and Beauty

As promised, a poem arose from time spent in the middle of a clear-cut forest and I wanted to share it with you.

The Bone Tree
El árbol de hueso

Our greed
Nuestra codicia
Our need, for more, for more, for more
Nuestra necesidad, de más, de más, de más
Our numb blindness
Nuestra ceguera entumecida

This devastation
Esta devastación
This empty shattered forest
Este bosque destrozado vacío
This lone swallow lamenting
Esta golondrina solitaria lamentándose

These ghost stumps rotting
Estos tocones fantasma se pudren
These alien bushes thriving
Estos arbustos alienígenas prosperan
These bare bone-white snags reminding
Estos enganches desnudos de hueso blanco que recuerdan

Still the rainbow
Todavía el arco iris
Still beckons at the edge of the
Todavía hace señas en el borde de la
Still live returning forest. Amen
Todavía vive el bosque que regresa. Amén

~ Wakil David Matthews – April 2023

Lament

It’s been awhile beloved friends. It seems that much of what I’m called to now is spending time with loss and lamentation.

In today’s post I’ll share these moving and profound thoughts from Fr Richard Rohr’s most recent blog. Soon, I’ll follow that up with a poem that arose during a silent meditation retreat in the nearby forest.

“When we go to the place of tears, it’s an inner attitude where when I can’t fix it, when I can’t explain it, when I can’t control it, when I can’t even understand it, I can only forgive it. Let go of it, weep over it. It’s a different mode of being.”
—Richard Rohr 

Weep for the World

We invite readers to listen and lament with the song Weep for the Worldwritten and performed by Brian McLaren to express our human desire to both grieve and heal from the harm we have caused.  

Let us weep for the world 
being broken apart 
by humans,  
foolish humans. 
Let us grieve the desecration  
of forest and stream, 
of glacier and ocean and humans,  
like us.  

Let us be mindful of the children,  
being born today,  
in a world torn apart 
by humans.  
Let us show our children  
a more excellent way  
to walk on the earth and be human,  
truly human.  

Let us love this world  
we’ve been breaking apart  
and let our love bring wholeness.  
And let us love one another  
with a compassionate heart  
for it is love that makes us human, human. 

Let us weep for the world  
We are breaking apart,  
so we can love it back  
to wholeness.  
Let our hearts be stretched  
by great sorrow and love,  
so they will never contract  
to being less than human.

Brian McLaren, Weep for the World

FR Rohrs’s thoughts on Beginner’s Mind

As always, I am inspired by the insight and wisdom of Father Richard Rohr in this week’s “Daily Meditations.”

As I cultivate the annihilation of my small self ego identities, the “not that, not that” practice, I find the truth in the lesson that when you can fall courageously and willingly into not knowing and nothingness, everything is imbued and radiant with awe and beauty.

FR Rohr speaks to this beautifully…

“Jesus says the only people who can recognize and be ready for what he’s talking about are the ones who come with the mind and heart of a child. It’s the same reality as the beginner’s mind.

“Beginner’s mind is a readiness to always be in awe, to always be excited. Beginner’s mind is one’s mind before the hurts of life have made us cautious and self-protective. We can still be excited, we can still be in awe, we can still expect tomorrow to be different than today.”

—Richard Rohr

Quote from Sophie Strand

This young author and philosopher is a new favorite. I highly recommend everything that she writes and speaks about. Sophie Strand – Sophie Strand

“I said recently that I’m much more interested in ensoilment than ensoulment. I want to have actual roots. I want my spirituality to have fur, pheromones, funk. I want it to live in a specific place. And I want it to teach me intimately how to be dynamically present and useful to my ecosystem. And I want to tell people that healing isn’t about completion. And it isn’t about lightness. It’s about the mixing bowl where nothing is exiled, everything is included. In order to grow a garden, you need manure. You need compost. In order to heal the soil, you don’t clean it, you add to it: fungi, ferment, bacteria, woodchips.

Researching Rabbi Jesus/Yeshua for my ecological reimagining of the gospels I realized the folk magician’s real teaching was not purification. He ultimately even rejects John the Baptist’s water immersions. In a time period when people were traumatized by Roman imperialism, diseased, and obsessed with purity rituals, he offered something radical. His offering was to brush the question off “Who cares? Come and eat with me. Come and share a meal.” He purified not by cleaning, but by including. Everyone was invited. No one was exiled.”

~ Sophie Strand

Poetry on Paradox

This struck a chord today, especially as I am enjoying the brand-new hopeful and anticipatory buds reminding me in the depths of winter that the potency of spring is always with us.

I Am That I Am

Welcoming 2023, I send love and hope to all and offer this thoughtful poem that was posted in Fr. Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations blog.

The poem “I Am” is by poet Dedan Gills (1945–2015), and read by his wife Belvie Rooks on CAC’s The Cosmic We podcast

I Am 

I am old and wise as the night. I am as beautiful as a bird in flight.

I am the moon and the sea. I am the robin and the bee. I am the soil and I am the tree.

I’m the lion and the gazelle. I am heaven and I am hell. I am the ring and I am the bell.

I am the joy and I am the tear. I am the brave and I am the fear.

I am the blistering desert. I’m the freezing snow.

I’m the cringing coward and the gentle hero.

I’m the aged and I am the young. I am the weak and I am the strong.

I am the smile and I am the frown. I am the pauper and I am the crown.

I am the wrong and I am the right. I am the day and I am the night.

I am now and I am never. I am yesterday and I am forever.

I am the bitter and I am the sweet. I live on the hill and I live on the street.

I am the top and I am the bottom. I am Martin, Hitler, Gandhi, and Saddam.

I am red, black, yellow, brown, and white. I love, hate, laugh, cry, and fight.

All the universe is reflected in me. I am all that ever was and ever will be.

When I lose, it’s the lesson that I win. Judging others is my sin.
 

Poetry That Made Me Smile

Once again, gratitude to sister Amina who posted this on her blog, Love, Harmony & Beauty #111, this week.

When I am smiling and laughing and saying Amen all at the same time, I know it’s a uniquely wonderful offering of written creativity and communication. Enjoy!

I Feel Sorry for Jesus
By Naomi Shihab Nye

People won’t leave Him alone.
I know He said, wherever two or more
are gathered in my name…
But I bet some days He regrets it.

Cozily they tell you what he wants
and doesn’t want
as if they just got an e-mail.
Remember “Telephone,” that pass-it-on game

where the message changed dramatically
by the time it rounded the circle?
Well.
People blame terrible pieties on Jesus.

They want to be his special pet.
Jesus deserves better.
I think He’s been exhausted
for a very long time.

He went into the desert, friends.
He didn’t go into the pomp.
He didn’t go into
the golden chandeliers

and say, the truth tastes better here.
See? I’m talking like I know.
It’s dangerous talking for Jesus.
You get carried away almost immediately.

I stood in the spot where He was born.
I closed my eyes where He died and didn’t die.
Every twist of the Via Dolorosa
was written on my skin.

And that makes me feel like being silent
for Him, you know? A secret pouch
of  listening. You won’t hear me
mention this again.

Profound Musings from Mirabai Starr

The following excerpt is from Mirabai Starr’s musings with her express permission to share.

She reminds us that we are all mystics and in the second piece I offer below, points to the responsibility that brings.

Her work and insights are always beautiful and profound and humble. I highly recommend subscribing to her blog.

https://www.mirabaistarr.com/subscribe


From Mirabai:

Guess what? You’re a mystic. The world has conditioned us to put certain beings on a pedestal and perceive them as embodying a more exalted life than the sometimes bleak version we may be living. But, the definition of a mystic is someone who has a direct encounter with the sacred. That’s you. In your moments of watching the sky and watching TV, eating a delicious meal or changing a diaper, making tea and making love, the sacred and the ordinary are braided together.

The way of the everyday mystic is to weave our humanness into the tapestry of our relationship with the divine. We welcome everything and expand our ability to hold what is. We bow at the feet of reality. Not by turning away from what hurts but by tenderly turning toward it. Heartbreak is part of the path of holiness.

Without minimizing the grief, challenges, and fear that these difficult times are inviting into our lives, we can view the inevitable meltdowns unfolding in our personal and collective reality as opportunities to let go of outdated belief systems, reassess our spiritual lives and re-emerge, again and again.

We all carry within us an everyday mystic, a lover of the Beloved, and that part of ourselves is always here, waiting to be set free.


In this most recent Sabbath note, Mirabai speaks eloquently “…about the importance of not going straight to “we are all one” and bypassing the very real issues of marginalization and oppression that many of our siblings on planet earth experience every day. I believe we must continue to actively dismantle the structures and systems rooted in white supremacy while infusing anti racism-work with love. May we dare step up with our hearts open, again and again.”

https://mirabaistarr.us3.list-manage.com/track/click?u=1b3aa400c6864962295d43b50&id=617e1f8606&e=262503a7e6

Wisdom from Pir Elias Amidon

With gratitude to sister Amina who posted this in her recent blog:

The Dark of the Year
Now we come to the dark of the year, the long nights, and the silence of the stars. We feel how old the earth is, and how small we are. Ages upon ages of us have come and gone. Archeologists brush the dust from bones that look like ours. An old loneliness presses on our hearts, the ancient ache of our species adrift in an indifferent night, calling into the dark and hearing nothing back. We know we’re falling toward our deaths along with everything and everyone we care about, and there is nothing to be done.

Meanwhile the mountains above us sweep through the night. They’re not lonely. They know what is happening. If they could, they would bend down to us and say —

Children of Earth, you are home. Your home is the radiant universe, this holy mystery that birthed you. Your loneliness is your cry of longing for that home, and it is here. You are home.

Yes, whatever comes, goes, but coming and going are not really coming and going. Every evening is a dawn somewhere, every dawn an evening. We mountains come and go, like your breathing, and nothing is lost. The dark inside of us, above and below us, is alive with transparent holy light. Dark and light are not two.

Children, there is a wondrous loving holiness everywhere, luminous within all that your two eyes see. You know it but you can’t remember. The night is a cathedral of light. What you think is death is a door. When you go through it you will remember what you are, and your grief will vanish into joy.

Out of the luminous dark our universe home is made, made of a love that has no opposite, no beginning or end. Love bursts into form, into you, into us, returning from form in time without going anywhere. Time is its illusion, its make-believe, its playground.

We mountains know about time. Heaved from the earth, worn by rain and wind, witness of countless days and nights, we know about time and the timelessness it comes from. Trust us when we tell you that infinite joy ignites this timeless moment and fills all of space, even the darkest places, even your loneliness.

Children of Earth, you are wondrous, holy, and inseparable from all. You are blessed — so bless! You are made of love — so love!

In the dark of the year, we light candles. A small light in our homes to praise the light of the dark. We embrace each other, thankful for the holiness within the embrace, within each other. We raise our glasses and touch them together, and the little clink is heard throughout the universe.

~ Pir Elias Amidon