Sunrise

Sunrise to sunrise,
prayerful rhythm of the day.
Will we be awake?

Beautiful and inspiring haiku from my friend, Antony's blog.

"tara's sunrise" photo by lucy

Common Cup

Although I have not been on the bus for a few days, the riders have continued to stay with me. A friend of mine e-mailed and said, “Based on the people you meet, have you considered taking another route?” I think his words were tongue in cheek, however, my immediate response was, “No way! These are my people.”

I find poetry much like the lingering images of my bus rides. I don’t necessarily understand what is being communicated, but the words and thoughts stay with me throughout my thoughts and dreams.

Two writings have been mingling in my mind for the last day or so that I would like to share here. The first are words from Sunrise Sister in response to “Chinese on the Bus.” The next is a poem from Elizabeth Barrett Brownings’, Sonnets from the Portuguese.

“The Chinese man - so willing to really, or even kiddingly, offer you a drink from a "common cup" - I, too, reach for the spiritual presence of God in each meeting. Are we more likely to share the "common cup" with a stranger than a person we "think" we know? Does the other person drink often from a "common cup" - making him eager to share the experience of communion with others?” – Sunrise Sister

“The face of all the world is changed, I think,
Since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul
Move still, oh, still, beside me, as they stole
Betwixt me and the dreadful outer brink
Of obvious death, where I, who thought to sink,
Was caught up into love, and taught the whole
Of life in a new rhythm. The cup of dole
God gave for baptism, I am fain to drink,
And praise its sweetness, Sweet, with thee anear.
The names of country, heaven, are changed away
For where thou art or shalt be, there or here;
And this…this lute and song…loved yesterday,
(The singing angels know) are only dear
Because they name moves right in what they say.”

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning

From what cup shall I choose to drink today? How about you?

Let it Blossom

“How can you follow the course of your life if you do not let it flow?” Lao-Tzu


Everywhere I look, Spring is bursting forth with life and new birth. Blossoms, babies, puppies and green grass. And, the question, “What is blossoming in me?” keeps showing up. It feels like the rest of my life is waiting to blossom, but the “live in the moment” side of me says, “Wait, don’t get ahead of yourself. What about today?” Nevertheless, I am at a bit of a crossroads. Decisions need to be made surrounding my career path and I desperately want to follow what is my calling. Fortunately, the two are closely interwoven.

How will I step out? How will I bring me, first, to myself, and then, how will I bring myself to the world? For there is only one Me. Lovely, kind, and free. Fiercely tender. Funny. Smart. Quick and contemplative. Bold and shy. A paradoxical being. I am a woman ready to spring forth into blossoms—maybe one at a time or maybe a whole bed of crocus bursting at once.

There is a vitality, a life-force, an energy,
a quickening that is translated
through you into action.

And because there is only one of you
in all of time this expression is unique.
and if you block it, it will never exist through any other
medium and be lost.

The world will not have it.
It is not your business to determine how good it is
nor how it compares with other expressions.

It is your business to
keep it yours clearly and directly,
to keep the channel open;
whether you choose to take an art class,
keep a journal, record your dreams,
dance your story or live each day from
your own creative source.
Above, all else, keep the channel open.

--Martha Graham

Blossoming Compassion

Yesterday morning I wrote of Compassion and ripples and water and cleansing. Then I went to my last session of Awakening the Creative Spirit. There we were posed with the question, "What is blossoming within you?" The first thing I thought was "nothing" and then I remembered the words: 'compassion for myself.' Neither felt like something I wanted to share with this group of blossoming women.

Our task was to select a photo of a blossom from the table in front of us. A very pale Iris petal (neither my favorite flower nor color hue) chose me. These are the words I read from the back.

Spring and all its flowers,
now joyously break their vow of silence.
It is time for celebration, not for lying low;
You too - weed out those roots of sadness
from your heart.

The Sabaa wind arrives;
and in deep resonance, the flower
passionately rips open its garments,
thrusting itself from itself.

The Way of Truth, learn from the clarity of
water,
Learn freedom from the spreading grass.

Pay close attention to the artistry of the
Sabaa wind,
that wafts in pollen from afar,
And ripples the beautiful tresses
of the fields of hyacinth flowers.

--Hafiz

Need I say more?

Yield to Simplicity

Ponderings of today. Simplicity is the word that is speaking to me during this season of Lent. I believe simplicity draws us closer to God. Simplicity and humility. Not pomp and circumstance. God is not interested in a popularity contest. He does not need everyone to acknowledge Him--to cheer him on. Jesus did things in obscurity and subtlely--often striving to remove himself from the crowds and seeking quiet time with God.

The world seems to think that in order to be successful, everything must be bigger and better. Giant churches. Huge projects. Best-selling books. The list goes on. What is big enough? What would it look like to reach people simply--one by one--heart by heart? Quietly and subtlely coming alongside and joining fellow sojourners as they come to know God and themselves in big, quiet ways.

I think I'll close here with this poem found at Milton's site.

I Feel Sorry for Jesus

People won’t leave him alone.
I know He said, wherever two or more
are gathered in my name . . .
but I’ll 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.

-- Naomi Shihab Nye

photo by bill hughlett