Passionate Loess

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive, and go do that, because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” --Howard Thurman

Have you ever watched a grown man turn into an excited little boy right before your eyes? Or witness a woman so filled with energy that she glows like a kid at the circus? Those transformational moments are Passion—with a capital P. They are life-giving not only for the participant, but also for the lucky bystanders.

We can find passion in the most ordinary of things. I can only imagine the delight and playfulness that God has for creation. Saturday, I had the pleasure of witnessing a man share his passion. Kevin Pogue is a professor of geology (among other things) at Whitman College in Walla Walla and this past weekend led a tour of the wine country land around the area.

While I enjoy a nice glass of wine, I am certainly no connoisseur; and, although I love digging in my garden, I distinctly remember being bored to death in my freshman geology class (Rocks with Ross) at Oklahoma State University. Saturday, however, the earth came alive and took on new dimensions as we stood in the hot Eastern Washington sun mesmerized by our tour guide.

We learned about basalt and loess (a fancy word for dirt) and the Walla Walla valley’s alluvial fan (a term I kind of remembered from geology class). We heard how finer grapes are produced when the root has to struggle for water. We were wowed by a vineyard planted in 30 feet deep river rock with flourishing rose bush sentries guarding each row.

All of those things were delightfully captivating and upon reflection I wondered how that happened to be. Now it could be that I have matured and my attention span increased since my freshman geology class over 30 years ago. Possibly it is because I have significantly more interest in the earth and creation that surrounds me every day. While both observations are probably true, I would have to say the magic of the day came in watching and listening to someone do what they truly love. Think about this, he was talking about DIRT for goodness sake.

Nevertheless, when he stood on the side of a small “Grand Canyon,” warned us to steer clear of the rim that has been known to “spontaneously disintegrate” and then said, “what the heck” and charged off the side of the cliff, he became a young spirit romping through the tall, probably rattlesnake-infested grass to show us what he wanted to communicate. While we gasped from our safe viewpoint and muttered, “Oh, I wish he hadn’t done that,” the earth transformed from just dirt and the man transformed from a middle-aged person into a passionate being that made even the most inert of objects (rocks and dirt) become exciting and interesting. It was truly a gift to behold and experience. Now that is Passion!

Oh, that we could all find what makes us come alive. Tell me. What is your passion? Do you know?

photos by bill hughlett (another man sharing his passion!)

Pay Attention

"Our purpose is that which we most passionately are when we pay attention to our deepest selves." --humanitarian, Carol Hegedus

photo by lucy

Compost

Yesterday I worked hard. I tended my garden, both literally and figuratively. I inhaled the clean, spring Seattle air mixed with the smell of fresh mulch that held just a hint of manure. A pile of dark earth was delivered to my home. Who knew that a mound of dirt could hold so many opportunities for discovery, such as tiny rocks and other things that somehow survived the composting process?

Is life on earth simply a composting process? Before yesterday I thought of the composting process as only a breaking down or decaying procedure, but interestingly enough the root word ‘compositum’ actually means ‘something put together’. So, I ask the question again, is life simply a composting process?

I wonder, will we allow ourselves to be broken down until only our true self is left, like the pebbles that arrived in my heap of compost? Will we stay in the process until there is no more space for barriers and defenses? Until what you see is what you get? A life as pure as a pebble.

We are called to be true to our nature. A rock is a rock. A bird is a bird. Water is water. People are people. We cannot be anything else. Yet maybe we are most like water as we take on the colors and reflections of the world around us. But when we try to reflect what is not our nature, there is disharmony and confusion. If water reflects a flame, it does not become fire. It is still water. We, too, can reflect many things, but to be at peace—to be whole and true to ourselves and to God—we need only be who we naturally and truly are at our very core.

Some of us resemble rocks and some are free as birds, others are beautiful flowers blossoming anew each day. And, me? Well, I am simply a child playing in this magnificent garden.

Refusal to Journey

“The refusal to begin our journey doesn’t keep us from having one.” Julia Cameron The Sound of Paper

“Where are you at?” is the question posed in today’s reading by Julia Cameron. I am sitting in my bed on a Sunday morning once again contemplating whether or not to go to church. What is church anyway? It feels pretty holy here in my bed surrounded by my books, a candle lit, silence allowing for thoughts and meditation. But I digress. Where am I? I am sitting in the middle of my life. A life that has been full but at times has felt wasted, especially now that I see the potential and am open to the joy and expanse around me. But, you can’t go back and honestly I do not have regrets; for every moment has brought me to be the woman I am today. So, where am I?

The most present thought is that I have a month before me more open and waiting than I have had in a long time. I have finished my work at the graduate school for the year and I do not have a Soltura trip planned until the end of the month. The possibilities are wide open. So what shall I do? My writing instructor has suggested I send a piece to a couple of places for publication. Terrifying! Rejection looms on the horizon. Cameron says, “It is not the start, it is the finish that troubles us.” If I do not move, however, I may miss out not only on rejection, but on the possibility of success. This feels like when I considered returning to school a few of years ago. What if I could not do it? And, yet here I sit a full year after graduation, diploma in hand.

What do I fear? Missing out on something? Being hurt? Rejection? Those old words of ‘not good enough’ rattle around inside me. The conversation is running in my head. If you don’t start, how can you finish? If you don’t try, how will you ever know what you are capable of? If you don’t submit an article, how can it ever be published? Can I practice what I preach? I wrote just yesterday to Antony that “I don't think "calling" is past its time until we are toes up in the tulips.” So, if writing is my calling (at least for today), I guess I better keep at it.

So, one last look at the question “where am I?” I am sitting with the month of May before me. I am excited to have some space and time to reflect, to garden, to hang out with my family and maybe even to write a little and, even riskier, put a few writings out there for consideration. Whew!

After all, the journey will happen whether I think I’ve started down the road or not.

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?