Raindrops

What a pleasant rain today....  we [Doug & I] were having afternoon coffee on the front porch of the gazebo when a simple bolt of lightning followed by a loud and prolonged roar of thunder resulted, not in a downpour but a gentle fall of rain.

The nasturtiums, which are growing in front of the gazebo, have leaves like lily pads which catch raindrops, resulting in a huge droplet forming in the center of the leaf.  It increases as small drops plop into it and eventually becomes too heavy and rolls gently off the leaf.  The droplets roll around and shake like a drop of mercury... they "shimmer" and show an intriguing, image of the leaf below them. I really enjoyed watching and finally took a few photos, several of which are included below.

I googled "raindrops" and found the incredibly relaxing Chopin's Raindrops on line.... you might like to take a five minute break and sit back, close your eyes and relax while listening to it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcIMvliWM2I

Tenacious: “to hold fast”

Mid-summer, and because I am so thoroughly blessed by living in a peaceful place and ‘soon to be’ lovely house [renovations are reaching the end], and have a comfortable gazebo in which to eat and read and from which to gaze at the many surprises that our yard supplies – well need I actually say what I feel!  I just want to relax in this state for many more days!!

But I know that as soon as August 1^st comes round I will feel the pressure of yet-unplanned days and schedules and it will be more difficult to take the time to relax and observe.  I want to hold on to this time but more so, I think I want to hold fast to the quality of observation and depth of peace that I have been enjoying while I move ahead to autumn expectations.

There is something of value that the word tenacious, meaning “to hold fast” implies.  There is a reason for the tenacity, for the holding on to. There is a source that makes it possible.

What drew my mind to this word was my amaryllis plant.  Each spring, once the flowers fade, I cut off the flower stalk and baby it along until I can put it outside in a pot because I read that through the summer the leaves will take in what is needed to replenish the bulb so that it can be stored and will bloom again next year.  Well, this year the flowers were absolutely gorgeous and when I cut off the stalk I felt the bulb and it seemed there was nothing left!  Now in the way renovations go we were packing things away so finally, upon my husbands assertion that there is just no way that bulb is going to grow I finally tossed it in the compost.  Yes, I did!

Well, as I glanced at the compost from time to time I noticed that the leaves which had drooped began to perk up and several new leaves were beginning to grow. When I tugged at the plant thinking that perhaps I should plant it in the garden it had produced long roots which were firmly holding fast to the debris in the compost and to tug it out would have meant to rip the roots.  So I left it and we enjoy the beauty of bright green leaves reaching out of the compost.

I hold on – be that to what I observe of our plants, flowers and birds or to what comes from the compost heap.  I hold on to the beauty, the peace, the lessons of seeds – growth – fruit/flowers, of bird challenges and feedings, of weeds, of the feel of the slight breeze in the evening as we observe the clouds and wait for the light to fade, of the candlelight in the darkness.  I hold on to the realization that even when the soil is a bunch of grass clippings without fertilizer somehow it can produce incredibly healthy looking leaves.

I hold on – because in all of this there is a source that gives me life, that refreshes and restores my soul, that brings healing and offers hope for new growth.  Within God’s creation there is the source of life just as within God’s Word there is also the source of life – both essential to my well being. 

In our yard, which some may think of as a hodge podge of garden spaces, trees, and grass I have observed that plants grow out of tree bark and dead trees as well. The rains have caused these to flourish.  I love the miniature worlds they produce – their own little ‘secret gardens’ that are all part of the whole. 

These photos show some of the smaller places in our yard and some of the plants that are holding fast. 

at the base of the willow tree

in the stump of a willow tree which was cut down about 15 years ago

Natural Elements

Sometimes we do not know what we know until we touch – touching the truth with our minds alone is not enough – we are made to touch it with our bodies. And so as I touch stone, wood, glass, and clay I allow touch to teach me of God's creation.

In renovating the main floor of our house [it's not quite done yet!] it gradually occurred to me that we were being drawn to natural elements and when we could not afford the ‘real’ we opted for the man-made in a form as close to the original as possible.  For example, rather than a stone pebble floor in the washroom, which would be too heavy for our older house, we opted for a vinyl that “spoke pebbles” to us.  And pebbles in the washroom makes sense to me because that is where water is - where cleansing takes place – and on my more imaginative days it seems I am standing on the edge of a stream...

Through looking more carefully and touching contemplatively I rekindle my love of natural things.  I allow my senses time to pay attention, to ponder the feel and look of the elements - and in this way learn a greater reverence for God’s creation. And reverence happens when my senses move from taking things for granted to standing in awe of what God created.  Reverence is hard to define – but you know it when you feel it.

Paul Woodruff [Taylor, An Altar in the World] argues that true reverence cannot be for anything that human beings can make or manage by ourselves.  By definition, he says, “Reverence is the recognition of something greater than the self – something that is beyond human creation or control, that transcends full human understanding.” 

But, I believe that the path to reverence is ‘paved with the ordinary’ and it is the ordinary and even the modified that pushes us along the path to recognize and reverence God’s Creation. We begin with where we are – we touch, listen, see, & taste – and as we ponder these we may find ourselves standing in awe of that which is beyond human. 

The photos in this blog highlight the ‘natural elements’ and manmade materials that we have used to create a place of harmony that provides me with a pathway to creation.  A place were one can run a finger along the grain of wood, feel the smoothness of stone, the coolness of porcelain, watch the beauty of light as it passes through glass, clear or coloured, marvel at the diverse shades of slate the simply beauty of soapstone and marble.

Sabbath and the Practice of Saying 'No'

In Barbara Brown Taylor's book, An Altar in the World,  she reveals ways to discover the sacred in the small things we do and see by participating in various practices.  As we incorporate these practices into our daily lives, we begin to discover altars everywhere we go, in nearly everything we do.

'The Practice of Saying No' is the title of Chapter 8 and it is alternately called, Sabbath.  While it is easy and affirming to say 'Yes' it is much more difficult to say 'No' -  yet it is in saying no that we may finally become acquainted with the Holy.  Abrahan Heschel says that the first holy thing in all creation was not a people or a place but a day.  God made everything in creation and called it good; but when God rested on the seventh day, God called it holy.

Sabbath means rest, but it is not always easy, and just as we enter into a day of rest we may be confronted with compulsions, memories, resistance which hinders rather than brings life to our spirits.  Sometimes the practice of Sabbath, similar to holidays, must begin with shorter moments so that our bodies and minds can accommodate it without feeling ill or our of sorts.

Well I'm not going to go into a discussion on Sabbath as I believe we each need to find our own way into it.  For example, for myself, about every 7 months my soul grows weary and I know it is time to take at least a Three-day Silent Retreat.  The weekly practice of Sabbath is essential and I find I crave it more and more, and especially after an intense week. This evening I am finding it particularly inviting as I've finished a painting that has taken several weeks. When a painting is finished I'm exhausted!

To conclude, a final quote from Barbara Brown Taylor on Sabbath.  "The ancient wisdom of the Sabbath commandment - and of the Christian gospel as well - is that there is no saying yes to God without saying no to God's rivals....  Your day begins when you let God hold you because you do not have the slightest idea how to hold yourself - when you let God raise you up - when you consent to rest to show you get the point, since that is the last thing you would do if you were running the show yourself.  When you live in God your day begins when you lose yourself long enough for God to find you and when God finds you, to lose yourself again in praise."

Quotidian Rhythms

Quotidian: "occurring every day; belonging to every day; commonplace, ordinary"

Today, while visiting a friend I was reminded of a few thoughts from Kathleen Norris' writings.  My friend was hanging clothes out on a clothesline in the sunshine and warm breeze - a sight one seldom sees these days. While she thought she should stop and set this aside until later we encouraged her to continue and as she did so, I took a few photos thinking that when she came to gather them later she will experience smells and warmth that signal a job well done - victory.

Kathleen Norris in her book Dakota, A Spiritual Geography, under the heading "Weather Report: June 30" writes the following:

" I get started early, before six.  It promises to be a good laundry day: a steady wind but not too strong. I come by my love of laundry honestly: my earliest memory is of my mother pulling clothes in from the sky on a line that ran out our apartment window in Washington, D.C.

Hanging up wet clothes while it is still cool, I think of her. Though she's lived in Honolulu for more than thirty years, she's a plainswoman at heart; her backyard clothesline is a dead giveaway. The challenge of drying clothes in a tropical valley agrees with her; mountain rains sweep down at least once a day, and she must be vigilant.

Here [Lemmon, South Dakota] no rain is likely, unless, as so often happens, our most beautiful summer days turn dark and violent in late afternoon, thunderstorms pelting us with rain or hail.  I think of a friend who was dying, who had saved up all her laundry for my visit.  "I can't trust my husband with it," she whispered conspiratorially. "Men don't understand that clothes must be hung on a line."

She was right.  Hanging up wet clothes gives me time alone under the sky to think, to grieve, and gathering the clean clothes in, smelling the sunlight on them, is victory."


In her, "The Quotidian Mysteries - Laundry, Liturgy and "Women's Work" [1998 Madeleva Lecture in Spirituality] Kathleen Norris says,

"We want life to have meaning, we want fulfillment, healing and even ecstasy, but the human paradox is that we find these things by starting where we are, not where we wish we were. We must look for blessings to come from unlikely, everyday places - out of Galilee, as it were - and not in spectacular events..."  She goes on to say of her sister who goes through the daily routine of mothering,  "She has grown adept at recognizing and savoring the holy in the mundane circumstances of daily life.  Finding spiritual refreshment in unlikely places, she can offer nourishment to her children."

Now, I wouldn't say that I have found this to be absolutely true in my case but I have caught glimpses of it because somehow I also believe that things seen and things unseen are intertwined.  Nora Gallagher writes that "the road to the sacred is paved with the ordinary" and in following her daily liturgical readings she concludes, "My daily calendar reminds me that what I experience in the world of faith must be measured against what I see, what is happening around me."

These writers remind me that even though my world may seem fragmented into the sacred and secular more often it is as "if each world challenged and sanctified the other" [Gallagher] and in reality, I long to live as a whole person - complete, with an inner and outer harmony.  In peace. Shalom.

Next Steps

Another week has begun and the renovation mode continues into our fourth week.

Today, Doug is painting the washroom and the kitchen... after diligently preparing them!

The interior doors just arrived and are now sitting in the hallway.  Geoffrey gingerly walks around everything and I know he is looking forward to coming home next week from his extra long weekend to doors on, the washroom and kitchen in full use again... well maybe.  I must say though that he has been a fairly obliging camper once he realized that the renovation would not happen 'overnight'.

The kitchen cabinets and perhaps the doors are to be done this week - baseboards, not sure about! Then there are the halls to paint and hopefully we will have the stamina to paint the dining room and living room...  so looking forward to lighter walls.

Anyway - last Friday resulted in this! The floors were finally finished.

But -  the dining room looks like this!! - well we have tidied up the empty boxes - love the way the laminate tiles worked out and look forward to a freshly painted kitchen and dining room. Time for the brown walls to go.....

"In Praise of the Earth"

I just needed to 'get out' of the house and into the open spaces this evening so I drove south of the city and found these interesting clouds.  Since it is the Summer Solstice, and a good time to consider the space that joins earth to sky, I've also included John O'Donohue's In Praise of the Earth.

Let us bless
The imagination of the Earth,
That knew early the patience
To harness the mind of time,
Waited for the seas to warm,
Ready to welcome the emergence
Of things dreaming of voyaging
Among the stillness of land.

And how light knew to nurse
The growth until the face of the Earth
Brightened beneath a vision of color.

When the ages of ice came
And sealed the Earth inside
An endless coma of cold,
The heart of the Earth held hope,
Storing fragments of memory,
Ready for the return of the sun.

Let us thank the Earth
That offers ground for home
And holds our feet firm
To walk in space open
To infinite galaxies.

Let us salute the silence
And certainty of mountains:
Their sublime stillness,
Their dream-filled hearts.

The wonder of a garden
Trusting the first warmth of spring
Until its black infinity of cells
Becomes charged with dream;
Then the silent, slow nurture
Of the seed's self, coaxing it
To trust the act of death.

The humility of the Earth
That transfigures all
That has fallen
Of outlived growth.

The kindness of the Earth,
Opening to receive
Our worn forms
Into the final stillness.

Let us ask forgiveness of the Earth
For all our sins against her:
For our violence and poisonings
Of her beauty.

Let us remember within us
The ancient clay,
Holding the memory of seasons,
The passion of the wind,
The fluency of water,
The warmth of fire,
The quiver-touch of the sun
And shadowed sureness of the moon.

That we may awaken,
To live to the full
The dream of the Earth
Who chose us to emerge
And incarnate its hidden night
In mind, spirit, and light.