Weeping Willow Meditation

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Weeping Willow Meditation

 

My seven-year-old self often sat
Settled under the swaying, trailing branches
Of the weeping willow that stood guard
In the center of her backyard.

 

The wispy caresses of the supple branches
Danced on the gentle wind,
Soughing a message unheard
On the other, unsettled wind
That gusted through the house-

You are loved. You are whole.

 

My seventy-five year old self
Now sits before a willow weeping
For a world not supple,
A world bending to its breaking point.
Trailing branches whip and slap,
Howls replace affirming whispers.

 

The weeping will wane
With every sway of every branch.
Hope will caress us again.
Weeping and rejoicing are One.
Live through each,
You become the Other.

 

© Rita Hemmer Kowats 4-30-2020

 

Photo Credit: Photo by Daria Sannikova from Pexels

When the Sky Is Falling

 

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When we are at home in our souls our actions flow freely with great power to change situations for the greatest good.

All shall be well
and all shall be well
and all manner of thing
shall be well.

Dame Julian of Norwich

 

Or

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Photo Credit: pexels.com

Forget the Perfect Offering- Love the Flaws

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Two books which I have found very helpful in opening my wounds to let the light in:

Radical Acceptance by Tara Brach

Heart of Forgiveness: A Practical Path to Healing by Madeleine Ko-i Bastis

 

The Homing Instinct

 

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It is both frightening and painful for many Americans to witness the daily unraveling of the principles we hold sacred without relinquishing all hope.  Today I am returning to the magic of Pat Conroy in his novel Beach Music.  Let the vibration of hundreds of loggerhead turtles on their first march to the sea get deep into your soul’s bones as you take in Conroy’s description:

Beach Music

We must not forget our spiritual homing instinct, our restless urge to go beyond ourselves to the Other, however we define that for ourselves.  Know your spiritual landscape.  Fix your eyes on the vast ocean of the Other’s love, and let’s head out together. In this lies hope.

 

 

photo credit: Eddietherocker <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/28393978@N07/35807963985″>Tres Turtles</a> via <a href=”http://Aphotopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/2.0/”>(license)</a&gt;

Ascension

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On this anniversary of the day the United States brought down “fire and fury like the world has never seen,”* on Nagasaki, Japan, many seek refuge from fear, hoping to ascend from the muck of unconscionable rhetoric.  Mary Oliver takes us there on the wings of the magnificent great blue heron.  May we also walk on water.

*Donald Trump 8-8-17

 

Heron Rises From The Dark, Summer Pond

by Mary Oliver

So heavy
is the long-necked, long-bodied heron,
always it is a surprise
when her smoke-colored wings

open
and she turns
from the thick water,
from the black sticks

of the summer pond,
and slowly
rises into the air
and is gone.

Then, not for the first or the last time,
I take the deep breath
of happiness, and I think
how unlikely it is

that death is a hole in the ground,
how improbable
that ascension is not possible,
though everything seems so inert, so nailed

back into itself–
the muskrat and his lumpy lodge,
the turtle,
the fallen gate.

And especially it is wonderful
that the summers are long
and the ponds so dark and so many,
and therefore it isn’t a miracle

 

but the common thing,
this decision,
this trailing of the long legs in the water,
this opening up of the heavy body

into a new life: see how the sudden
gray-blue sheets of her wings
strive toward the wind; see how the clasp of nothing
takes her in.

 

http://www.bestpoems.net/mary_oliver/heron_rises_from_the_dark_summer_pond.html

Copyright © 2008 – 2017 . All Rights Reserved.

Photo Credit:

http://garysoutdoorwanderings2.blogspot.com/2012/06/heron-oddity.html

An Easter Prayer for These Times

Lynn Schooler DAWN

 

Waiting for Hope

From the grip of all that is evil, free us.
Into the womb of the Sacred deliver us.

Brood us, Lifegiver.
Warm our crippled core
with the elixer of your hope.

We waited…
The immalleable membrane of despair
Stretched to the limits against
Unimagined possibilities.

We dared to imagine-

Barrier breached.

© Rita H Kowats 4-10-2017

(Inspired by The Lord’s Prayer, New Zealand Prayer Book)

 

 

The video takes a few seconds to begin…don’t give up!

 

 

Photo Credit: Lynn Schooler, Juneau AK

Opening Vision

Guest Post
Marcia McLaughlin

 

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Sometimes we have so much difficulty seeing clearly what is ahead of us.  Recently I was at Holden Village, a retreat center in the mountains.  The top photo was taken out my bedroom window, which was covered with snow.  The colors were beautiful, but I couldn’t tell at all what was beyond my window, other than the snow.  Less than 48 hours later, because of melting snow, I was able to see the trees and buildings beyond my window.  Life can be like this—we struggle and struggle to make sense out of life, not seeing our way out of a difficult situation.

Then something happens that changes our vision and brings sudden clarity.  The confusion and struggle melt away as the snow did, opening up to an answer.  The snow melts when the temperatures get warm enough.  One can wait for that to happen or use a shovel to dig your way through the snow.  When our vision of a situation is blocked by something, we may have to wait or perhaps there is something we can do to bring clarity.  What or who helps you when you are in the midst of confusion and struggle and need clarity?  Since my blocked window was on the 2nd floor, I wasn’t capable of removing the snow.  I had to wait.  Are you able to wait when nothing you can do removes the block, when struggling is futile?  How is God a part of finding clarity? How is God a part of stopping the struggle and waiting?

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1 Corinthians 13: 12-13.  For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face.
Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.

Marcia Mclaughlin is my colleague in spiritual direction ministry.  She ministers as spiritual director, pastoral care counselor, and retreat leader at Richmond Beach UCC.  I am delighted to share her wisdom with you.

Link to Marcia’s Linkedin Profile:

https://www.linkedin.com/profile/view?

Naked Truth in the Blogosphere

take off the mask

I bare
my nakedness
to the world
that the world may see
who I am;
not the mask that hides my flaws
not the mask that hides my beauty.
I bask in the light and
I take off the mask.

– Jocelyn Soriano

Do you see what I see?  Retired, and contemplative by nature, I have the time to dedicate an hour each morning to read posts relating to spirituality, poetry, justice, psychology, and LGBTQ  concerns.  I try to be present to bloggers’ experiences and expression.  Often their stories stay with me throughout the day, and as I recall them I am in solidarity.  A pattern has emerged which gives me hope in the midst of the incessant ego-driven political chatter and gratuitous violence our world continues to spew out.

This is the hope I see:  a longing and a commitment to be real.  Where my baby boomer generation learned to wear masks, the millennium, (generation “Y”) and generation “X” bloggers, are unafraid to show their mistakes, even their deepest wounds.  I am not talking Dr. Phil Show here…What I read is not for show; rather, the sharing seems to come from an authentic desire to grow.  They face the truth with courage.  They do not wait for a guru to tell them their “truth.”  They strip down until they find it themselves and they bask in their humanness instead of cowling in shame.  When I was their age the false humility I was taught made me ashamed of being human and kept me from growing.  The masks I wore became very heavy.

I put my hope here.  Do you see what I see?

Adaptations of the Soul

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While looking for food, a nomad in the Namib Desert might see this little Fringe-Toed Lizard doing his gymnastics to survive the otherwise unsurvivable heat.  He lifts one appendage at a time, removing it momentarily from the sand’s heat.  At noon he will burrow into the cooler sand beneath the surface.  At dawn our nomad would enjoy the cool mist blowing in from the ocean, and with many other plants and animals, sip from its moisture left on leaves.  The Sidewinder snake adapts its behavior by heaving  its body across the sand, touching down in only two places at a time.

Adapting.  And how do we human beings adapt our souls to meet the overwhelming challenges thrown at us by our environment?  Like these desert animals, we are a resilient lot.  We survive and we often thrive.  Adaptation of the soul is analagous to adaptation to environments; however, unlike other animals, we can make choices- choices which get us and others into dire situations, and choices which redeem us.  Apartheid imprisoned Nelson Mandella for twenty-eight years, and his spirit adapted and thrived.  I can only conjecture about the details of Mandella’s adaptation.  You have developed your ways of adapting to spiritual challenges, to “The Dark Night of the Soul,” as John of the Cross called it.  These choices have redeemed me at times:

1.  Be Faithful

To mantras that focus me, affirmations, rituals, other prayer forms.

2.  Be Helpful

Seek out viable and positive service opportunities.  Service takes us out of ourselves.

3.  Be Creative

Paint, draw, write, compose music, play music)  Creative activity often puts us into an altered state where we can forget our despair for a while, and unite with the Other.

4.  Be Communal

Talk with a spiritual guide or trusted friend.

These adaptations get me through the heat of the day:  Old truths embedded in a new metaphor.

Feather and Shadow

hope is a thing with feathers

Canada geese cast
Quilt-like shadows
On the now-rumpled lake,
Announcing Autumn’s Advent.

My soul
Flys with the geese,
Her feathers borne
On the breath of God
Rescued for the moment
From shadows of
War.  Hate.  Greed.

Alleluia!

This moment of ecstasy was shattered by the loud, strident voices of three homeless men who arrived at the lake eager to party.  Imagine, life getting in the way of spiritual revelry!  All efforts to keep my feathers flying failed, so I continued on my walk.  Once disappointment faded, I realized that this is life: feather and shadow.  I resolved to use these gifted moments of flight to prepare for battle with the shadows of injustice.

Thanks to my soul-sisters, Emily Dickinson and Hildegard of Bingen, for the loan of their sacred images of hope and feather.