Glimmers

Dear Friends,

I’ve joined the statistics, was it inevitable?

My husband and I had symptoms, each tested positive, and landed in bed for several days. Our schedules were rearranged and I repeatedly thanked God for a working furnace and the kindness of neighbors to keep us safe.

I’m fully aware that the circumstances of my encounter with Covid were very fortunate. During these long, isolated days I thought about those who suffer and those who grieve. As our world-wide pandemic becomes endemic to our way of life, we are confronted with loss. How do we find our way through the consistent drumbeat of difficulties in 2023? I offer a hopeful reminder, the gift of those who accompany us, our human family.

“I’ve heard it said that people come into our lives, for a reason, bringing something we must learn.
And we are led to those, who help us most to grow if we let them, and we help them in return
Well, I don’t know if I believe that’s true
But I know I’m who I am today, because I knew you”

This message from the musical “Wicked” arrived in my life, recently, and offered comfort to my lonely heart.  A golden arrow pointed at the relationships in my life as the Covid-enforced quarantine prevented simple, every-day contact. I thought about friends long-past, our lives moving apart in different directions, but the gifts remaining. I recalled single moments of connection, never followed-up, but sacred in their way. Filled with love, I remembered hugs, a shared cup of tea, a quiet breath of another…. And I, too, could sing, “I know I’m who I am today, because I knew you.”

How do we find our way? Where is Hope housed in these confusing times? For me, on this first day of the rest of my life, I place my trust in our human connections of love and compassion, of tenderness and kindness. I rest in this singular moment, dear friends, and continue to sing “because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

Dear Friends,

On this Christmas Eve, we await the birth of new life: in ourselves…our souls and hearts; in our relationships…with their connections and concerns; in this moment… of wonder and waiting. What does that look like for you?

The Christmas tale leads us into a profound story of hope that transcends cookies and presents, that aligns our intentions with all world religions, that renews our commitment to the path of Love. What does that feel like for you?

My prayer and words today are directed toward those of you who are struggling with the commercial chaos of Christmas. My heart reaches out to those whose own heart is broken through loss, misunderstanding, isolation, or disenfranchisement in the midst of the cultural expectations that surround us. How are you balancing your inner life with the splashy outer events in your world?

On this Christmas Eve, I offer Jan Richardson’s “Blessing of Hope,” as comfort and reminder. Our loving God walks with us in expectation and in disappointment, in joy and confusion. As we learn the ways of unitive consciousness, the gift of both/and teaches us to hold conflicting feelings alongside the gift of hope. May hope, indeed, be born on this night…on every night.  With love to you dear friends, Lisa

BLESSING OF HOPE

So we may know the hope that is not just for someday, but for this day – here, now, in this moments that opens to us:

hope not made of wishes but of substance, hope made of sinew and muscle and bone,

hope that has breath and a beating heart, hope that will not keep quiet and be polite,

hope that knows how to holler when it is called for, hope that knows how to sing when there seems little cause,

hope that raises us from the dead – not someday but this day, every day, again and again and again.

Dear Friends,

“The geography of your destiny is always clearer to the eye of your soul than to the intentions and needs of your surface mind.”

This time of year finds the silky morning fog resting on grey lake water. I rest in silence, within the safety of no expectations, no images beyond the lamp post on the shoreline. The sun’s rise illuminates the blanket of white around me, gradual changes appear. My heart is stilled in the moment, the awakening of this new day is named Gentleness.

When the geography around me, and of my destiny as John O’Donohue describes it, can be seen with my soul-eyes, I’m invited into the present moment. Here… now… I sink into that which I cannot understand and yet, somehow, am filled with understanding.

My soul-eyes witnessed a group of wounded travelers, on a recent journey into the Land of Loss, as they too slowed down to the rhythms and intentions of deep movements. They allowed their Grief to guide and teach them. In their presence, I journeyed as well, honoring recent losses and deepening my trust in Love’s healing arc that moves through our human experience.

The sky is clearing, the lake offers a reflection of the trees – some naked, but not all – and a small band of mist floats across the water. I’m reminded of another resource for travel directions, Carrie Newcomer’s, “Abide.” She sings:

Let us ponder the unknown,
What is hidden and what’s whole,     
And finally learn to travel,               
At the speed of our own souls.

In the Land of Loss, and in life, we follow the pace and rhythms of soul-traveling. Sometimes we pay attention, sometimes not, sometimes we have no choice.  A discovery, in these new horizons, is the consistent, gentle reminder that Love accompanies us all along the way. As Carrie describes it:

Stay awake with me and we’ll listen more intently, 

to something wordless and remaining, sure and ever-changing.

in the quietness of now….

With affection, fellow travelers,

Lisa

Dear Friends,

Hello October! You arrive and everything changes – clothes, menus, decorations, setting on the thermostat. It’s not just external changes, though. There seems to be a call to go inward as the seasons turn, doesn’t there?

I’ve been exploring the idea of “pilgrimage” in my world. My husband and I took a 20 day trip to the West coast, mostly Washington with a little visit to California. Instead of walking, I was in a comfortable car. Instead of meeting strangers along the way, I encountered friends, cousins, his siblings/nieces/nephews and our sons, who traveled to join us. Some visits were over lunch or a cup of coffee, others lasted 3-4 days. We came home tired, yes, but full of love. Each encounter was “gift” and most carried multiple layers within them. My pilgrimage was not to a beloved shrine, though we did finally see Mt Rainier. It was not to a foreign land, though some of the feelings I had were new and unexpected. 

A general definition of pilgrimage is “a journey to a sacred place.” My pilgrimage was a journey inward to feelings and memories, sacred indeed. Author Janelle Cepero speaks of the “call to pilgrimage” and says, “You have no choice. You have to answer.” One of the first stops was my mother’s grave. I was able to sit with her on the anniversary of her death, 48 years ago, and bring her with me as I traveled more deeply into the love of family. Cepero continues, “Some pilgrims go the direct route, right to the center of the holy of the holies, directly to the heart of the matter. Others take a more indirect route, circling around the outside of the sacred place, transforming the physical journey into a spiritual path of contemplation.”

My journey, much like my life, followed that indirect route, seeking experiences and encounters on a contemplative path. I’ve often seen my heart’s movement like the cat that circles around and around a cushion before settling down to rest. It seems my soul needs warmth and reassurance to trust the call, to rest in a pocket of ease. I return home wrapped in my mother’s love, this pilgrim’s heart opened “to discover what you were desperately searching for has always been and always will be within.” 

Hello, little Leaves! Thank you for teaching me to sway and dance with the Wind. Thank you for sharing your beauty and path of Surrender. Let us treasure what was, savor what is and welcome what will be….together, in the mystery of our created world, in the arms of our Creator.

with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

An unexpected phone call, a plan’s “rearrangement,” the weather, a detour sign – all, and many more, are examples of the need for an inner adjustment. We accommodate these small demands in daily life, some days better than others. In fact, our ease with change reflects some of our temperament, our history, our maturity, right? I can say this about myself and am guessing it might be true about you, too. Our practice of accommodation is also influenced by the repeated demands of change, isn’t it? If, let’s say, a vacation plan gets turned around, flights are cancelled, luggage lost – we become weary with the situation. Our patience is strained at the exact time when more patience is needed!

In my last Glimmer, I spoke of change and the growth it often demands. Many of you responded with thoughts about “growing pains,” do you remember those? I recall the term being used to describe the physical aches from young bodies growing, muscles and bones getting longer, bigger, stronger. But, of course, growing pains happen in our emotional and spiritual lives, as well. Here I am at 72, body changing yes, but the demand for growing really lands in my heart. The lessons of loss, of all sorts, continue and that internal process of adjustment becomes a pathway of growing.

“I’m so glad to find a way to love again.” I remember hearing these words at Sr Mary Fahey’s funeral. She was quoted saying them in response to a difficult person or situation. Her heart’s desire, “to love,” was the guiding light in her life, and as we know, circumstances can challenge that goal. Loss, difference, rejection, misunderstanding, betrayal – all part of our human experience – and yet, as a “lover,” I seek the path of reconciliation. I desire to love again, and again, and again. Before you misunderstand my proclamation, know that I fail miserably, that I forget to include myself in that goal, and that I often get caught in my own neediness.

These are my recent growing pains, this is where my heart is being stretched out into new shapes, new ways of holding the life I am living. And this is where I learn about love.

with affection, Lisa

Dear Friends,

After a couple adventures, I’ve returned to the land of lost socks and gardening decisions.

I return home with a heart stretched open, to hold the reality of the world I am living in. Gratitude has arrived and She is shining her light all around me. My heart and I say yes, we will participate in the journey of a soul-full life. The invitation is too precious….

The socks and garden pots speak, I slow down. This is my life and, in this moment,  I am experiencing it as a blessing:

an active awareness of “the More”

a kiss of the Divine

a Deepening that calls us home.

Some folks place “blessing” in a religious realm, but for me, there’s more.  John O’Donohue is quoted in this wonderful article saying, “Blessing is a more robust and grounded presence.” I am so grateful to have socks and a place to lose them! In the morning light, the garden awakens – each petal smiles hello, vines join me in the expanse of this new day, and I listen. Blessings appear, arrive, descend, are…

I return to you, dear friends. My spirit settles down and listens for the oriole’s call and the mourning dove’s coo. The heron’s prehistoric form rises into the sky and the squirrels continue their dance. My heart responds to the dawn of this new day and says, yes, I will embrace the life before me and, at the same time,  I will pray for the concerns of the world. I cannot turn away from weeping brothers and sisters in Afghanistan, startling fires and consequent destruction in California, global political discussions rooted in fear and the need for power. How do I cope?  I respond to the challenges in my little life with love. I get honest, grieve losses as changes happen and, ultimately, grow. I respond to the call of love we all are hearing, and I keep going.

I’m on the lookout for blessings and the morning light is a place to start, besides thinking of each of you, of course.

peace, Lisa

Dear Friends,

Last night I attended a concert alongside the Connecticut River. It was a perfect night – relaxation and low humidity, sky resting in shades of blue and pink, breeze off the river tossing my hair, and great music dipping into my heart and soul. Christine Ohlman affirmed my desire to “jump right in to the deep end of the river of love, love, love.”

The space outside the Goodspeed Opera House in East Haddam, CT was packed with people! People wearing hats, summer colors, and smiles. Lots and lots of smiles! Many stayed in the their seats, but many others moved their bodies to the music – up near the band or in the small spaces between their chairs. Children ran around, dancing too, joining the adults in a celebration of life. When I wasn’t dancing, rare but occasional, I looked at the faces around me. I watched people talk and hug, sit and stare, all absorbed in the moment, and I wondered, “Is it just me, or is something different here?” “Are the colors brighter? The music more poignant? Our hearts a little softer?”

We’re all different. You. Me. The lady in the lime green caftan, the guy swinging his partner around with abandon, the young mom moving her little one in time with the music. We’re all different this July of 2022. Our shared experience in the last two years has changed our understanding of life, of innocence, of loss. Just as after the death of a loved one, our lives are not returning to “normal.” We are forever changed, transformed, by the losses and associated grief while living through a pandemic and time of social unrest.

So what is my response? Friends, I am acknowledging the reality of this sea change in my life on Earth. I’m accepting the demands it makes on me, am riding the waves of “adjustment,” but I am not without resources.  I dance. When I dance, my whole body moves to the music – catches the rhythm, slides with the groove, sings the anthem of life. I listen. I listen for wisdom from friends, like Christine, who are traveling these times with me. I listen to the symphony of birds outside my window. I know Love, I am gifted by time with loved ones – we are nourished and changed for the better.

My heart extends to unnamed people around me because it isn’t just me, it’s all of us. Our human family. Let’s choose love as often as we can, life is too precious to miss.

I wanna be baptized, let’s go there! 

Down in the river of love….

Join me? much love, Lisa