Through Stained Glass: Outside My Window

"Questioner: How are we to treat the others?
Ramana Maharshi: There are no others." ~Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi

            

Somedays I don't know what to write. Early this summer, I committed to posting a weekly blog here. For the first two weeks, the subject came easy. Today, the topic remains hidden.

           When this happens, I usually look out my window. I let my senses guide me toward words. I see a variety of colors. Yellows and golds, reds and maroons, pinks and violets are all surrounded by a deep green beneath a cloudless blue sky. I hear the band marching and playing, dogs barking at the neighbors, and the calling of a small flock of geese that just flew over my little house. Oh, and the cicadas. I smell damp grass and my coffee. Looking at the tomatoes in my garden, I imagine how they'll taste, causing my mouth to water – or it might be the sweetness from the blueberries I'm eating. Tecumseh is asleep at my feet, and I can feel his breath on my skin. Writing with an open window, I feel the day growing warmer and more humid.

           Writing that paragraph reminded me of a practice my therapist shared to help ground myself when things get overwhelming. It goes something like this:

• Name 5 things you see around you
• Name 4 things you can touch around you
• Name 3 things you can hear
• Name 2 things you can smell
• Name 1 thing you can taste

I love this little exercise. It gets me back into my body and my breathing. Since my sabbatical, I turn to creation when I have writer's block or if my prayers seem empty. Guided by my senses, I enter back into the Great Conversation – one that began long before I was here and will continue well after I'm gone. I find the beauty within as I stand beneath the beauty surrounding me. In the presence of Oak and Elm trees, Robins and Wrens, Garter Snakes, and Centipedes, I remember my place as part of God'sGod's good creation.

           Paradise is here. Heaven is mirrored in the Mouse and the Human. With its outstretched branches, the Sycamore tree holds space for all living things to come and rest a while. As the Eairth holds us, so does the Loving One of the Universe.

           I didn't know what I was going to write this this morning. Outside my window, I saw creation reminding me that the splendor of God is found in ordinary things. This splendor is etched into the fabric of this life. There is beauty here. Look!

           Take time today to pray. However you do, it is entirely up to you. Perhaps you try the exercise above. Maybe you let the quiet solitude of the landscape draw you deeper into the presence of Creator God. Maybe today you play – letting go of whatever worries you and letting the flow lead you into the mysterious, cosmic dance of What'sWhat's Happening. 

Who knows where it'll lead you! 

Through Stained Glass: Web of Interconnectedness

"The way of the feminine is the way of connecting. And the path of the mystic leads from the illusion of separation to the reality of divine union, manifested as interdependence with all that is." ~Mirabai Starr

Over the weekend, our church youth gathered for a wilderness wandering at Kickapoo Park. For an hour, we slowly strolled the trails and observed the critters in the creek. One of my favorite moments was watching a couple of the youth observing a spiderweb that caught their eye as the sun glistened off the delicate webs. It was enjoyable to watch them explore where the web begins and then listen to them tell stories about why or why not they like spiders. Their curiosity is contagious!

           It was my job – well, Tecumseh’s self-appointed job – to be first on the paths. Of course, this meant I was the one who got to walk through the webs before the others. It is a risky job, but someone must do it. And I don’t mind it so much because looking for them makes me slow down. Honestly, I want to honor the spiders and their work creating these impermanent labyrinth-like creations. I know they can rebuild them quickly, but I still want to be mindful of them. After all, I don’t appreciate it when people come into my house and break things.

           I kept returning to God’s love as I walked through the webs. Specifically, how God’s love – mercy – grace – whatever theological word you want to use – clings to us in the same way. Like the spider webs that got in my hair that I kept finding throughout the morning, so does God’s love continue to show up in my life. Yes, I see God’s love in a sunset – I hear it in the music of a Scarlet Tanager – I smell it in the flowers – I taste it in the water – but I feel it when I’m with others. If I am honest, I value our time together outside of Sunday mornings.

           Our worship services are transformative. The music Chet and David play and the songs the choir sing are inspiring. Occasionally the preacher preaches a decent sermon, too. But, and maybe this is selfish, I don’t get to talk with all of you as much as I’d like. And I mean more than just the “Hey, have a good week!” exchanges. I want to know what’s saving you these days and breaking your heart. I want to bear witness to your story, and you to bear witness to mine. Whenever we are together, I walk away full of joy and love – and it clings to me until the next time.

           It is fun to watch our youth become a community. Saturday, as I observed them and participated in their shenanigans, I recognized in a profound way that our lives are interpenetrated with the lives of all sentient beings and that the One we love shines from every nexus in that web of interbeing.[1] Yup, even spiders!

  [1] This line is inspired by Mirabai Starr’s book “Wild Mercy: Living the Fierce and Tender Wisdom of the Women Mystics.”

Through Stained Glass: Surprise

 

“The splendor of the rose and the whiteness of the lily
do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm.
If every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness.”
~St. Therese of Lisieux

I didn't know they had a name until last summer. That's when on a hike with a friend at Weldon Springs Park stopped, pointed, and asked, "Do you see it?" It took me a minute, but after shading my eyes from the intense August heat, I said, "The pink flower? Yea. Seems out of place in that tall, weedy grass."

           "Yup. They are called Surprise Lilies." My friend poetically expressed their appreciation of these flowers "because their greening dies out with so many flowering forms in the summer and then in the dearth of August heat - BAM, up they come!" After a silence fell upon us, they elbowed me and said with a grin, "Know why else I like Surprise Lilies? Because another name for them is Resurrection Lilies."

           Yesterday after church, I was in my study, looking out my window, and saw some Surprise Lilies. Of course, my mind went to Jesus's words from our Scripture yesterday. Well, the part before our Gospel lesson:

"27 Consider the lilies, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin,[e] yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. 28 But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, how much more will he clothe you, you of little faith!"

I don't know. Maybe when Jesus was teaching about faith, trust, and hope, he saw a Surprise Lily. Perhaps the color of it captivated him to a point where he invited the disciples to contemplate the generosity of the Eairth. The invitation to pay attention to ravens and flowers comes in the middle of teaching on stewardship of money. The thesis of Jesus's lecture emphasizes worry about our well-being as an enemy of generous stewardship. Luke adds to that idea of worry by appealing to the story's culmination for the little flock to "Do not be afraid." The fear here seems to be connected to greed — fear that I won't get mine, that I won't have enough — prevents us from seeing what God has done and will do for us.

           Seeing these Surprise Lilies bring me so much pleasure. From their unexpected presence comes a profound reverence. It is not lost on me that to teach about God's pleasure, Jesus places before the disciples a Lily. Jesus teaches that the Lily grows because of God, a reminder that God's generosity and faithfulness extend to the entirety of God's creation. It is as if Jesus is saying God's pleasure is found in the giving.

           I'm glad my friend geeked out about Surprise Lilies. I'll forever experience their joy, which has become mine, whenever I see unexpected beauty in ordinary places.

Through Stained Glass: August's Metronome

 

Joy is God in the marrow of our bones. ~Eugenia Price

Welcome to August! And how about this new month's arrival? Lighting, thunder, and some much-needed rain woke me up this morning. The dogs and I took advantage of the cooler temperature, too, as we walked our usual daily mile, and I ran my Monday 3 miles. I watch the sunflowers dance in the breeze as the clouds part and the heat returns. It'll be hot again before you know it. Stay hydrated, friends.

           August 1 also brought the return of the marching band. The conductor's voice echoes across the neighborhood, encouraging and instructing the students on their marching orders. I don't know much about marching band, but by the sound of things, it's obvious that today is the first day! The instrument's return marks that slow transition back to school – when Pulaski Street becomes a freeway and Friday nights will be spent under those football/soccer/marching band/track stadium lights. On our walks, the dogs and I see the football team scrimmaging, the dance team getting in formation, and now the band falling in line to the instructions of "left, left, left, right, left!" Oh, and the metronome will be a constant in the mornings for the weeks to come.

           As I listen to the voice that's got Tecumseh a little confused looking to the heavens, I wonder about the rhythms I'm keeping. What is helping me find the flow these days? One of my goals this month is to create three to four weekly posts. Sometimes they will be reflections like this one, and other times it'll be a picture or a song that is currently giving me life. What inspired this was Sunday's Gospel reading. Within the parable of the rich fool, I heard an invitation to slow down and to pay attention to the moment. When we resist the demands of materialism, the good news from yesterday is easy to receive:  that all that we are and all we have belongs to God, and our future is secure beyond all measure.

           The band is still marching as the instructor barks their orders. The Sparrows and Cow Birds have assembled on the telephone wire, teaching me about perspective. The Rose of Sharon and the Sunflowers have found their beat to sway to. In the days to come, find your own rhythm, and go at a pace that returns you to your belovedness. Remember, you belong to Love.