Mystery and Mastery

A question is mulling around in my mind. It is a question of movement and waiting—of mystery and mastery. I ponder; can there be movement in waiting? A sigh. A breath. A tear. The rise and fall of the chest. The twinkle in an eye. For I believe waiting does not mean ceasing to live. It is, in my reality, living more deeply and intentionally.

“Wait here,” a mother says to her child. The child can either hold his breath and try to remain perfectly still, living in fear. Or he can begin to examine the world around him--the ant on the ground, a bee tasting sweet nectar or the wind rustling through the trees. In this waiting, this examination of mystery, is he not living more fully and mastering life?

Waiting for the birth of a child, the coming of a Savior, the easing of a pain. Waiting does not mean becoming frozen or comatose. It can be just the opposite. A heightening of awareness. Feeling the very structure of your being—the beams and concrete of your soul; the bare branches of your nakedness; the child inside the mother’s womb.

This living into the mystery is the mastery of life. It is appreciating each moment instead of worrying or analyzing what it will mean later, or like the compliant child, waiting and holding his breath until the very life goes out of him.

So breathe, feel your heart, listen to the rhythm of the earth. The axis has shifted slightly and the light will grow stronger day by day. Remember that without the dark of night, a star cannot shine. So wait. Wait intentionally; not for mastery but for the sake of mystery and all it has to offer.

We cannot see the wind except when it blows through the trees. From where does the rain begin? Was the earth created in seven 24-hour days or billions of years? Mystery. We can move toward mastery, but it is in the movement that life happens. It is the dash on our tombstone—what happens between the day we burst forth from the womb and our final earthly breath. It is movement as subtle as listening to your own heart beat or watching an ant crawl on the ground. And, it is movement as great as facing your deepest fears or having the courage to wait patiently in the darkness.

photo by bill hughlett

Belly of the Whale

Inside the belly of the whale, it is dark. Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year in the Northern Hemisphere. For a season, this season, I am being called to let the tears wash over me, to wail, to cry out and let the pain envelope and comfort me. Happiness will not suffice for now. Joy seems so distant, so far away. Sorrow—its mirror image—hangs closely round my heart and soul.

I must learn a new way to comfort myself, and the way does not involve putting on a smile and taking care of everyone around me. How can I suffer—exist—live in the dark night of the soul when all around me are hollow words of "Merry Christmas" and "Happy Holidays"? “Cheer up,” well-meaning friends say. “Get over it,” I tell myself. Easy to say, but I don’t even know what “it” is. I see fear in the eyes of my loved ones. They worry that I am not happy. “You’re not yourself these days,” they say. “I hope you come back soon.” But, I have not gone anywhere. This is me—all I am able to offer—right here and right now. Maybe it is not all of me for it is more of the sorrowful side—some would say the dark side. And, just as I have been known to burst with joy, for now I am bursting with sorrow. I am learning that both are essential for the fullness I desire.

Give your burdens to the earth—the strength of the mountains—the vastness of the sea—God—only these can carry the weight of my burdens. I am called to lay face down on the ground as the Muslims do, connecting my head with the earth. Feeling the solidity beneath me. It is holy ground.

Belly of the whale. It is dark inside here and even as I release myself to the darkness, I begin to feel lighter. A twinkling light. There must be great darkness for the tiniest light to shine. Wait. Just wait. It is the reminder I have heard throughout this advent season. Wait.

“When you are in the belly of the whale, let go, detach yourself, let the pain carry you where it needs to take you, don’t resist, rather weep, wail, cry and put your mouth to the dust, and wait.” Ron Rolheiser

Grace Abounds

sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing and yet possessing everything. II Corinthians 6:10


"life in chains" photo by maryjane hughlett

Born of earth
Seeds lie deep
Root reaching
Pushing through
Life in chains
Straining toward light
Toothless smile of poverty
Extended belly filled with love
Glittering eyes of weathered face
Hope and grace abound

Darkness hides
Darkness shields
Child in womb
Dormant field
Straining toward life
Flower of desert
Cement’s dandelion
Tiny ship in storm
Reaching shore against all odds
Sense made out of senseless
Hope and grace abound

In the darkness
Winter Solstice
Barren earth
Fallow womb
Shifting
Moving
Reaching
Resting
Growing
Soul turning
Hope and grace abound

10 Things I Love about "A"

This is a fun little game I discovered at Christine’s blog (one of my favorites) who originally found it at Cathy’s blog. (I don’t happen to know Cathy, however, we are now connected through this letter game and if I had the letter, C, I would add the word Connection, Christine and now Cathy.) Many who played the game said it was harder than you think. I imagined it would be hard to come up with 10, however, my brain switched into high gear and I had a list of about 45 “A’s” before I told myself to slow down and pick 10. So here goes.

1. Christine gave me the letter A for Awakening, so I shall start there. Awakening my creative spirit, awakening to each new day and experience, awakening to life around me. These are most definitely things I love!
2. Advent season has been an amazing time of waiting and discovery for me this year. Great expectation for the celebration of the birth of Jesus and anticipation of what new birth is happening in my life.
3. Aging. I wavered a bit on whether or not I truly love aging. It is one of those love/hate dilemmas, however, aging has provided me with a new perspective and a new zest for life that I did not have in my younger years. It provides a preciousness to each new day and each new year. I turned 50 on September 11 of this year, so hurray for Aging!!
4. Asking questions and seeking answers. I love this, particularly done in community or in my quiet time with the Lord. The beauty is that there are no pat answers and half the fun comes in the asking and seeking.
5. I love Angels! Doesn’t everyone?? I think one of the things I imagine and envy most about angels is their wings. I love the possibility that they can fly which leads me to #6 and….
6. Airplanes. Airplanes take me to far away places for adventure and reunion with friends. My favorite airplane was the tiny one that I jumped out of and flew through the air myself. The air was buoyant and felt like the hands of God gently holding me in my downward flight. It was…
7. Amazing! Life just gets more and more amazing to me. There are new adventures each day, new awakenings, new people, places and things to discover. Truly Amazing!!
8. I could not finish a list of things I love with out including at least one author, because books are one of my very favorite things. I choose Anne Lamott to grace this list. I love her irreverent reverence and her advice from Bird by Bird that if you want to be a writer, “Write!!” These are words that get me going when I often wonder where my writing will lead. Just write!
9. As with authors, the list would not be complete without mentioning a few places since I love adventure and travel. I love Asheville, NC. I have had dreams of moving there and becoming an artist full time. Arizona is wonderful with its beautiful deserts and warm dry climate. Alaska must be fabulous because it produced my dear friend, Maria, and Africa birthed my wonderful husband, Bill—both are places I hope to visit in this lifetime. (Australia is also on my very short list of places that I love before ever having been there.)
10. Since this list of gratitude and love could go on and on, I will end with Abundance and Amen!!

Thank you, Christine and Cathy. If anyone else would like to play, send me a note and I will send you a letter. Blessings and Abundance to you during this Amazing season of Advent. Amen.

photo by bill hughlett

Soul Turning

"The really real is made up of both fact and human imagination.
If you can’t think, reflect and actively imagine your life into existence,
you are condemned to a half-life of unconsciousness.
Maybe your dark night is just the opposite of what it appears—not a dying, but a birthing." --Thomas Moore, Dark Nights of the Soul

Morning glow
Golden dog
Fiery breath of dragon
Sanity slipping
Soul turning
Amazing sensation
Tasting sweet fruit
Sounds of soft cello
God’s creation
The really real is made up of both fact and human imagination.

Which is which?
What can be held?
Painful reality?
Unexpected joy?
Brilliant new vision?
What makes sense?
How do we touch?
Soul turning
Present greets past tense
If you can’t think, reflect and actively imagine your life into existence,

(Stuck in the mire
Caught in the ordinary
Stagnant new day
Unreachable peaks
Wings never sprouting
Life inside hopelessness
Soul turning
Failure flagging
Witnessing faithlessness)
you are condemned to a half-life of unconsciousness.

Imagine
Pushing through the pain
Reaching toward new heaven
Grabbing the golden ring
Soul united
Axis slowly shifting
Worthiness arising
Life giving into life
Creation’s gifts awakening
Maybe your dark night is just the opposite of what it appears—not a dying, but a birthing.

photo by bill hughlett