The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my childrens' lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water,
and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.
I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

Wendell Berry, Collected Poems

This poem has been shared with me several times by intuitive friends. It has become one of my very favorites. May the peace of wild things be with each of us as we end one calendar year and begin another.

Spoken Words. Seen Words.

Unfolding. Seeing. Knowing. Hearing. Seeking. Seeking our story. Seeking the truth. Seeking connection to our very soul. Where does it start? How do we begin? I see Mt. Rainier outside my window and wonder, where did it begin? What is the depth of that great mountain? How high is the peak of its summit? Is it like my soul? Growing and expanding. Some days hiding behind the clouds. Other days white and beautiful for all to see?

In recent days I have been consistently drawn to the topic of knowing. Knowing God. Knowing ourselves. Knowing others. My first recent awareness of this came as I was reading an advent meditation entry by the father of a deaf child. He was quite concerned that his daughter would never “hear” the Christmas story, the story of Incarnation, in a language she could “understand.” Therefore, she could “never embrace the Light of the World.” While I think I understand his compassion and desire for his daughter and other deaf children, I somehow felt this statement to be so wrong. In my heart, I believe these children may hear and know God more deeply than this father who thinks that only man’s spoken words can adequately convey the gospel.

Since that reading, I have been ever aware of the many ways that God speaks to me and provides a deeper knowing than any spoken words can convey. “The Divine Voice is not always expressed in words. It is made known as a heart-consciousness.” (from God Calling). It is this “heart-consciousness” that seems to speak most loudly to me.

My ponderings did not end, however, with only the spoken word. I also have much considered the seen word. I am aware of how visually stimulated I am by God’s creation all around and how it is often in the seeing that I experience the knowing of which I write. Thus enters my new favorite saint, St. Lucy—the patron saint of blindness. Lucy means “light,” coming from the same Latin root as “lucid” which translates as “clear, radiant, understandable.” St. Lucy’s martyred life ended with her eyes being gouged out. Miraculously, however, she was still able to see even without her eyes.

While the stories say this was miraculous, I wonder, do we not all have this “miraculous” ability—to see without eyes, to hear without ears, to feel without touch? Is this not the handiwork of a miraculous God—the one who provides multiple pathways to unfolding, seeing, knowing, hearing and seeking truth?

I am certain this is a topic I will return to again and again. For now, however, I will end with a poem from The Prophet by Khalil Gibran.


And a man said, Speak to us of Self-Knowledge.
And he answered saying:
Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart’s knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.

And it is well you should.
The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea;
And the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes.
But let there be no scales to weigh your unknown treasure;
And seek not the depths of your knowledge with staff or sounding line.
For self is a sea boundless and measureless.

Say not, “I have found the truth,” but rather, “I have found a truth.”
Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.”
For the soul walks upon all paths.
The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed.
The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals.

"its makers praise" photo by bill hughlett

next

winter solstice, come & gone
advent in the past
christ was born in bethlehem
now what, the days alas?

speak to me, oh sovereign lord
i'm waiting in the dark
the days grow brighter on my watch
but time is not a lark

i call to you i cry to you
i sit and feel my tears
christmas come and christmas gone
what more the passing years?

time moves fast and passes by
i wonder what is next
you're with me, lord i know that now
your world, amazing text

another night i'll hold my breath
and sense the passing day
i hear you, see you, feel you, lord,
and marvel at your ways

amen

About Me

Who am I? I awoke very early this morning pondering that loaded question.

In this crazy world of blogging, what do I want to say “About Me?” To address this seems both humbling and grandiose. It is impossibly difficult and incredibly simple. My first notion is, “I am no one,” quickly followed by the next thought, “I am an amazing, complex woman that words cannot begin to describe.” The truth is: I am both. This is the tension I live with these days. Faith is a huge part of my life and demonstrates this phenomenon well, because my faith is strong and it is weak. “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” It seems that the more I learn about anything, the less I realize I actually know. The closer I come to knowing myself, the more I find there is to discover.

So, what about me? I am a mother, a wife, a sister, an orphan, a friend, a lover of God, a reforming Fundamentalist, a spiritual seeker, a lover of big yellow dogs and all kinds of nature, a fan of cozy beds and warm fires. I am a middle-aged woman with the heart of a child. I am a romantic and I am very practical. I love to cook and I hate to go to the grocery store. I want my house clean, but rarely enjoy the act of cleaning. I am a trained counselor and I regularly seek personal counseling. I want to experience God outside the box and I love old traditions. I grew up in the Bible Belt (Oklahoma) and now live in the "most un-churched city in the country" (Seattle).

I hate that we must suffer so much in the world AND I know that suffering has made me who I am today. I love music of all kinds. I do not have a great singing voice, but I have long dreamed of being a doo-wap girl. I’m not a talented dancer, but I love to move. I am not a natural athlete, but manage to stay in reasonable shape. I love new experiences (like my recent forays into backpacking, graduate school and skydiving). I love books (see sidebar of 2006 reads) and movies ranging from the romantic to the contemplative. I don't have regular/cable television, but am a closet viewer. I watch “Grey’s Anatomy,” “Gilmore Girls” and “24” when they come out on DVD and an occasional “Oprah” when I get the chance.

I am too conservative for the liberals and too liberal for the conservatives. I am passionate and I am shy. I LOVE to laugh until tears stream down my face. Anne Lamott calls laughter “carbonated holiness” and I agree wholeheartedly. I love to play with friends and I adore my quiet time and solitude. I love to write but am not quite comfortable calling myself a writer. I am on a journey. If you look closely throughout this site, you will find glimpses of me, along with my friends, family and places I love. It is a scary venture to share what comes from the heart, nevertheless, I am called to take the leap and share my words. I hope you will join me!

"lovely, kind and FREE!" photo by bill hughlett

The Wall Between Two Gardens

“Sadness is but a wall between two gardens.” Khalil Gibran

It is late Christmas day. It has been a good day, a quiet day, and in the stillness of the afternoon, l have spent much time pondering sadness. While sadness may seem like an unfit topic for this day of celebration, it is, nevertheless, a feeling that abounds during the season. Often juxtaposed against the expected emotions provoked by “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Holidays,” sadness can be buried amidst the stack of holiday cheer.

Today is a day to be celebrated and for which to be thankful. So, what is this “wall between two gardens” of which Gibran speaks? For some reason, I am reminded of another quote (by Mother Teresa, I think) where she speaks of having her heart break wide open so that the whole world may fall in. I sense this breaking of heart in myself while at the same time there is a sense of peace and thankfulness. Must we break wide open to find peace?

How can the two co-exist? Is this the paradox of love? Of God? The garden of heartbreak and the garden of thankfulness. The wall of sadness between humanity and divinity. The human part of me wants to focus on the sadness and where I don’t feel like my desires are being met, but the holy will not let me rest there. The divine requires me to remember that ALL my needs are fulfilled and I am never alone even when I may feel lonely. God is with me and I hear the words, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

So why the sadness? Why the wall between the gardens? Images are evoked of the joy of the birth of a new babe and the sadness of his death on a cross—before his resurrection. Ahh—maybe that is the wall of sadness; the sting of death before resurrection.

It seems that this is the place we live today—having not yet experienced our own resurrection to glory, but having tasted it; known the glory in brief moments—the birth of a child, the smile of a stranger, the gift of a song. These reminders start to fracture the wall of sadness and meld the gardens—the garden of birth and the garden of resurrection. This Christmas day, hope is tangible. It is a time to celebrate and experience the glory of God. And, it is a time to sit with the sadness between the two gardens and be thankful. Merry Christmas and Amen.

photo by bill hughlett