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?

Compassion

“When the wind stops, the trees still move, the way my heart creaks long after it bends.” --Mark Nepo

Compassion is a word that has been entering my vocabulary and thoughts on multiple levels these days. How do we find it and give it (not just to others, but) to ourselves? Our feelings are like the ripples of the wind. The effect of the emotion lasts long after the event stops whether we realize it or not.

Tess’ “Unguarded Thoughts” highlighted this as she speaks of thoughts that pop out when we don’t even understand from where they may be coming. I wonder if they are the ripple of events gone by. So, again the question: how do we flow with the ripple and find compassion for ourselves?

My dreams lately have been filled with water. Water covering the streets. Water overflowing from the shower. Water surrounding land as if it is an island. The thought I have been pondering is how we quickly want our emotions to be washed away. If we stop to feel them at all, we hurriedly move on to the next thing as we let the emotion slip down the drain. (We don’t take time to be joyous or feel pain deeply.) It is here that I have the image of our emotions running into the sewer and becoming part of the muck and mire—festering and turning into a stinky, rancid mess—waiting to be dredged up. Yuck!

What if rather than pushing the emotions down the drain, we put the stopper in the sink and the covers over the manholes? What if we allowed ourselves to be washed with emotion thus being cleansed at the same time? What if we chose to dance in the rain rather than put up our umbrellas? What if we “experienced” rather than “stuffed?” The water could then take its natural course to the sea rather than man’s forced journey through the darkness of tunnels.

So today I say, let the water flood the streets. Let the shower spray everywhere. There are plenty of towels to soak up the excess. Have compassion for Me. My dreams are telling me to sink into the emotion and feel it, so then it can follow its natural course. I can be washed clean. God of the heavens and earth, the Creator of the trees and the wind, the lover of my heart is with me. Compassion abounds if only I will choose to sprinkle a little on myself.

photo by Mary Jane Hughlett circa 1962

Leap of Faith

The earth is indeed lovely, I realized.

And so I decided to take a leap of faith. Life is, after all, a series of leaps of faith. Falling in love and believing that I will grow old with my husband is a leap. Losing a parent and believing that I will recover is a leap. Giving birth to children and letting go as they grow, hoping they will lead safe, happy lives is a leap. Living in a world of chaos, believing good will prevail over evil, is a leap.

Maybe I could hold God's hand as I leaped. --Priscilla Warner of "The Faith Club"

Remembrance toward Freedom

Why is it such a challenge to be the people we are created to be? It is my belief that we each innately hold the knowledge and truth of who we are deep inside our hearts. It is always there whispering to us what we know to be true. Often, however, the whisper needs prompting to move the truth out of storage and toward remembrance and life.

We are well aware when the truth shows up. It is the moment our heart sings with recognition—a smell, a sight, a voice. You know you are home. You know you are safe. There is intimacy in memory. It sustains us and nurtures us here and now so we can remain rooted in the midst of this crazy life. It is memory of Christ. Memory of home—the truth of our very being. The knowing that we are whole and pure.

We spend so much time wallowing in the mud and muck of life. The truth, however, remains rooted inside us like an everlasting friend whose voice is always a welcome sound. It is a song for your heart beckoning you to remember who you are. To walk daily in freedom, we must remember our past stories of both tragedy and redemption, we must dream of future hopes, and we must choose to love God, our neighbors and ourselves in the present moment.

We are anchored in Christ—through humanity—through the magnificence of the universe. There is a great knowing of something that we can’t quite seem to remember yet know is ancient, everlasting and true. This knowing holds me above the waves of life, buoyant as a bird in flight, cradled in the embrace of a friend.

It is my desire to remember the anchors of my life. The smells, the tastes, the sounds and sights that draw each of us toward becoming the people we are created to be. It is through remembrance that we can walk in freedom.

photo by bill hughlett

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