Living Here Life Divine

“Long ago in China, there lived a monk who perched in a certain tree every day to meditate. No matter if the tree swayed in fierce winds and rain, the monk settled himself comfortably, high up in the tree. Because of this, he was nicknamed “Birdsnest” by the village folk nearby.

Many of the villagers passed beneath the monk while hunting or while gathering wood in the forest. And, after a time, they grew used to the monk. Some began to stop and talk of their concerns with Birdsnest. They liked the things he had to say, and soon Birdsnest became known for his kind and thoughtful words.

After more years, the monk’s wise reputation spread throughout the province. Visitors from distant cities hiked to the remote forest for advice. Even the governor of the province decided that he too would like to visit Birdsnest to discuss matters of importance. So, one spring morning, the governor set off to find him. After traveling several days, he at last located Birdsnest’s tree in the dense forest. The monk sat calmly, high in the topmost branches, enjoying the warmth and the bird songs of spring.

Looking up, the governor shouted, ‘ Birdsnest! I am governor of this province and I have come a great distance to speak with you. I have a most important question.” The governor waited for a reply but heard only the pleasant sound of the leaves stirring in the breeze. The governor continued, “ This is my question. Tell me Birdsnest, what is it that all the wise ones have taught? Can you tell me the most important thing that the Buddha ever said?”  There was a long silence- just the soft rustle of the leaves again.

Finally the monk called down from the tree. “This is your answer governor. Don’t do bad things. Always do good things. That’s what all the Buddhas taught.

But the governor thought this answer far too simple to have walked two days for! Irritated and annoyed, the governor stammered, “ Don’t do bad things; always do good things? I knew that when I was three years old monk!!

Looking down at the governor, Birdsnest replied with a wry smile. “Yes, the three year old knows it, but the eighty year old still finds it very difficult to do!”

(source unknown)


A Traditional Buddhist Blessing

May every creature abound in well-being and peace.
May every living being, weak or strong, the long and the small
The short and the medium-sized, the mean and the great
May every living being, seen or unseen, those dwelling far off,
Those near- by, those already born, those waiting to be born
May all attain inward peace.

Let no one deceive another
Let no one despise another in any situation
Let no one, from antipathy or hatred, wish evil to anyone at all.
Just as a mother, with her own life, protects her only son from hurt
So within yourself foster a limitless concern for every living creature.

Display a heart of boundless love for all the world
In all its height and depth and broad extent
Love unrestrained, without hate or enmity.
Then as you stand or walk, sit or lie, until overcome by drowsiness
Devote your mind entirely to this, it is known as living here life divine. 

Friday Food for Thought

"Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings. And once you have achieved a state of happiness, you must never become lax about maintaining it. You must make a mighty effort to keep swimming upward into that happiness forever, to stay afloat on top of it."

-- Elizabeth Gilbert (Eat, Pray, Love)

“The most exquisite paradox…. as soon as you give it all up you can have it all. As long as you want power, you can’t have it. The minute you don’t want power, you’ll have more than you ever dreamed possible.”

— Ram Dass

"A power struggle collapses when you withdraw your energy from it.
Power struggles become uninteresting to you when you change your intention from winning to learning about yourself."
—Gary Zukav & Linda Francis (The Heart of the Soul)

Telling Our Stories

In my home office I have several clay figurines of a seated woman (or bear-like creature) with many smaller childlike figures attached to her lap and legs. She has her mouth open in a circular shape to show that she is speaking.

The first storyteller dolls were called “singing mothers” but soon the storytellers were created as men and women. The seated figure always has an open mouth. The small figures all over her are the listeners enthralled by her words, attentively honoring the teller and the tale she tells. The sculpture is intimate and conveys warmth and acceptance and the artists of storyteller dolls give shape to the sentiment that our stories are important parts of each of us.

Until recently I worked in an urban church and had the opportunity to answer the door when strangers were looking for help. One of the important parts of getting to know the people in a short amount of time was, of course, hearing their story. Even if some of what they told me was not completely true, I am convinced that the ways in which they unraveled their need to me was important to them and many truths were revealed in the telling. For people who have only what is on their backs, the stories they tell are precious possessions indeed. Many times I could not help them except to give them the dignity of listening to their story.

Each of us comes with our own story - looking for a place to tell it. I am convinced that is why many of us seek out faith communities. For those of us without such a community, we search for other places to tell our stories and to hear the stories of others. In this era where more and more people are attending “church” less and less, alternative communities rise up to take the place of some of the functions of the church of old….social networking sites, blogging, coffee shops, book discussion groups in libraries and bookstores, mastermind groups, therapy groups, self help groups……      No matter the venue, as the stories are told, they become part of the larger story of those in the group. In making places for all to tell their stories, we create community and connection.

Great Spirit that speaks in words and in wonder,

we all are searching for places to belong.

We know that the world is lonely

when we have no one to listen to the yearnings of our souls.

May we open our hearts and ears

to the stories of those traveling on the great road of life with us.

Give us ears of patience and welcome as listeners

that we may be treated with hospitality when it is our turn to speak.

As we welcome the words of others and share what is in our hearts

may we remember that we are creating a story that will change the world.

Such love does the sky now pour,

that whenever I stand in a field,

I have to wring out the light when I get home.

Francis of Assisi

All has been consecrated.

The creatures in the forest know this,

the earth does, the seas do, the clouds know

as does the heart full of love.

Strange that a priest would rob us of this knowledge

and then empower himself with the ability

to make holy what already was.

St. Catherine of Siena

The sky gave me its heart

because it knew mine was not large enough to care

for the earth the way it did.

Why is it we think of God so much?

Why is there so much talk about love?

When an animal is wounded no one has to tell it,

"You need to heal"

so naturally it will nurse itself the best it can.

My eye kept telling me,

"Something is missing from all I see."

So it went in search of a cure.

The cure for me was God's beauty,

the remedy--- for me was to love.

Rabia of Basra

A Prayer for Protection

 

Spirit of Love and Life, 

Surround us and fill us with the flame of your Love and Wisdom,

That it may purify, illumine and guide us in all things.

May its spiritual fire form a garment of living flame around us

and protect us from all harm.

May it radiate to every heart, consuming all evil and encouraging all good.

May we be filled with peace within ourselves,

and may we let it spread throughout our world.

In the name of all that is good and holy and true.

Amen and Blessed Be

(adapted by C. Wallace from the prayers of Dr. & Mrs. F. Homer Curtiss, 1934)

Tattoos and Jesus

I was talking with a new acquaintance recently about tattoos. Actually, we were sharing stories about tattoos because that is the interesting thing about a tattoo- there is always a story to go with it.  She was telling me that her oldest son has 2 tattoos. One is on his upper arm below the shoulder. It is a cross whose lower vertical end becomes a blade. It symbolizes his love for Jesus and the teaching of Hebrews 4:12:  For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.  His other tattoo is just below his ribs on the left side of his abdomen and is the Hebrew word for brothers. 2 other young men who are like brothers to him also have the same tattoo in the same place.

Her son told her that the brothers tattoo on his side was much more painful to get than the cross tattoo on his arm and then went on to expound on the awesome moral of the story: Isn’t that just how it is with life? It is easy to say you are a follower of Jesus. The hard, and even sometimes painful part, comes when you try to live it out by being a brother.

His observations remind me of the story of a young woman who receives a note from Jesus telling her that tomorrow he will be coming to visit her. That night she frantically cleans her house and makes preparations for a delicious meal. Then she goes to bed, hardly able to sleep because she is so excited that Jesus will be at her house tomorrow- sitting on her furniture and eating her good cooking. She even fantasizes a little about her value and just how much she must be loved if Jesus is actually going to come to her house.

The next day she gets everything ready and dresses in her finest and waits.

In the middle of the morning she hears a knock on her door. She flings open the door, ready to shout “Welcome,” but instead of Jesus, there is a young man on her step whose car has just quit right in front of her house and he needs to call a tow truck. May he use her phone?  He looks dirty and sweaty and a little suspicious to her. Absolutely not she tells him- I am expecting an important guest. Then she closes the door in his face.

A little shaken by such a strange happening, she returns to the sitting room to wait for her visitor. After lunch there is another knock on her door. She opens it with great enthusiasm and a huge smile. Standing there is a woman who says she lives two doors down the street. She has locked herself out of her house and has called her son to come over with the spare key but she really needs to go to the bathroom. May I use yours while I wait for my son?  She is a very large woman and she is carrying several bags. Who knows what she will do in the bathroom, out of sight?  No, that is not possible. I am expecting an important guest at any moment. You’ll have to use the bathroom at the gas station. It’s just on the street behind us and up one block. Then she closes the door.

Late in the day, just before supper time, she hears another knock at the door. She runs to open it thinking this must be Jesus. Standing in front of her is a young man with brown skin who has big kind eyes and is wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Disappointed again she begins to speak, intending to tell him to go away when he interrupts her and asks if he can come in. No you may not come in, she says in a loud voice. I am expecting an important guest and I don’t have time for whatever it is you want. Instead of walking away he looks at her and asks who she is expecting. Well, even though it is none of your business, I am expecting Jesus, she says in her loud angry voice. What do you think about that?  The young man looks at her and just smiles. As she stands there looking at him, his appearance changes and standing before her is a man who looks just like what she expected Jesus to look like. Do you recognize me now?  he says.  When she looks at him again he is now the young brown skinned man in jeans and a t-shirt.

But I don’t understand, she tells Jesus. What does this mean? 

The young brown skinned man looks at her with compassionate eyes and says: I have been here to visit you two times today already but you turned me away. I asked to use your phone and I asked to use your bathroom. Both times you were too busy to help. The woman looks at him with a sad face, tears beginning to form in her eyes. But I was waiting for you and they were a nuisance, she tells Jesus.

I have no feet or hands but yours now, Jesus tells her.  Keep your eyes open for opportunities to bring love into the world. In seeing each person as me, I will always be with you. And always remember-serving me is sometimes a nuisance….but in the end, always a joy.

hey, cooperate

Sometimes the Universe intervenes in such a way that we are forced to change our plans. The thoughts I planned to post here in this space today will not cooperate...it is a technical thing...so now I go to plan B. I planned to blog on Tattoos and Jesus....you'll have to wait to read that entry on another day when I can get the text type color to cooperate.

While I was trying to make what I wanted to post today happen, I called a friend for help....she knows how to do everything....so I was hopeful.  She tried to help but what she did still didn't work for me so I am giving up on my intended words for today but....that got me to thinking about the blessings that come into our lives and remembering to be grateful for those blessings....like my renaissance woman friend and all of the other people who make my life the glory that it is....that led me to remember the following quote. So....may today be a good day for you, my readers, and may we all take the time to be intentionally grateful for all that we have in our lives.....even when the Universe doesn't cooperate. 

"Our lives are filled with ordinary moments when the hidden beauty of life breaks into our everyday awareness like an unbidden shaft of light. It is a brush with the sacred, a near occasion of grace. Too often we are blind to these moments. We are busy with our daily obligations and too occupied with our comings and goings to surround our hearts with the quiet that is necessary to hear life's softer songs."  --- Kent Nerburn

Friday Food for Thought

Your neighbor is your other self, dwelling behind a wall.

In understanding, all walls shall fall down.

Who knows but that your neighbor is your better self,

wearing another body?

See that you love him as you would love yourself.

He too is a manifestation of the Most High.

- Khalil Gibran

God can be realized through many paths.

All religions that teach peace are true.

In our human state we are born in the courtyard of the house of God. 

The important thing is to reach the roof where you can truly see the light. 

You can reach it by stone stairs or by wooden stairs or by bamboo steps or by a rope. You can also climb up by a bamboo pole. 

But if you do not aspire to reach the roof you will live your entire life in the courtyard where too many shadows and walls block your view of the sun’s pure light. 

Go to the roof of your faith, O child of the universe, and bathe in the pureness of the light.

- Rama Krishna

"Compassion is the antitoxin of the Soul." --- Eric Toffler

My father and I had a rocky beginning that lasted until I was well over 40.  My mother said the reason we couldn’t get along was that we were so much alike. To this day I still don’t really know if that is true…but I suppose there is a kernel of truth in it. When I was a teen and a young adult I would have defined my feelings for him as hatred.  I chose to marry when I was 18 mostly so I could get away from my father. Of course, you all know that nothing is that simple and cut and dried and there is a lot more to the story but we’ll save all of that for other times- if it even needs to be told at all. The point is, I did not like my father and did not get along with him.

One day, somewhere in my early 40’s, I was journaling and talking to the god in me that I sometimes talk things over with. My writing had led me to a place where I was remembering some of the things that had happened between my father and me when I was a teen. The god voice in me suggested that if I would put myself in my father’s shoes and try to see what it was like to grow up as my father did, then I might be able to understand why he is the way he is. So…that’s what I did. I took a little trip back to his childhood in the 1940s and 50s and tried to piece together a visual picture of what his life had been like, using the information I knew from family stories. What I saw…and felt… when I actually did that changed the way that I would see my father forever. I don’t need to tell all of the story- what I need to tell now is that through that journaling exercise I was able to cultivate compassion towards my father and that has changed my life and the life of my family.

The word compassion comes from the Latin word meaning “co-suffering.”  Compassion is regarded as a virtue. A virtue is a quality deemed to be morally excellent. I guess I’m not so much concerned about being morally excellent…although it’s not a bad thing. What I am trying to be is more loving. Compassion is one of the components of love and like love, can be cultivated. It is not a gift one is given at birth so that either you have it or you don’t. Love is a difficult concept to actually live out – it isn’t just the mushy happiness we see in the movies- it is tough and messy more times than not.

Yesterday I found myself going down memory lane in the life of another person I have had difficulty with and danged if I didn’t start feeling a little compassion for that person as well. I guess the old saying about not judging a person until you have walked a mile in their shoes holds some truth. So the question for me is, how can I live my life each day practicing compassion- co-suffering- with those I come in contact with, as a way to be a more loving person?  Mohammed said that a person is not truly a believer in the ways of Allah unless they desire for their fellow humans what they desire for themselves….and don’t we all really just want to be understood, accepted…loved?

"Vitality shows not only in the ability to persist but in the ability to start over." --F. Scott Fitzgerald

I don’t think that I am the only person in the world who was raised not knowing what to do with their feelings. Am I??  I grew up thinking that if I felt a certain way, that feeling must be true. So, if I felt unloved, it must be true that I was not loved. If I felt loved by someone, then they must really love me. If I felt that I was a failure because once or twice or even thrice, I made a choice that wasn’t the wisest choice to make in any given situation, then I must not be a good person or a wise person or whatever…you get the picture. My feelings ruled my life.

I worked for a motivational speaker once who said we are all half jerk and half jewel. That might be more true than I would like to admit.  I recently told a friend that something in my life was a mixed blessing. I meant it as a good thing.  Isn’t life made up of joys and challenges?  Acknowledging them as both important and even necessary seems to me to be a vital component of a healthy person’s make-up.  Prosperity schmosperity….we can’t be happy and perfect all of the time, it just doesn’t make sense.    Since logically we know it’s not possible, why not just admit that some days will be diamonds and some days will be stones and we are still okay – even good -  as people, even when we are having a jerky, stony, challenging day?

Here’s an American fairy tale with a twist:  Once upon a time, not too long ago, something happened in my life in the space of 1 hour that made me feel like I had won the lottery of all lotteries. I was jubilant and I have to admit that I said to the god in me that I sometimes talk things over with- “thank you for this blessing…an acknowledgement that I have been faithful (and good) and now it has paid off.”   (see, Calvinism is not as easy to leave behind as some might think)    Now, before the “something” happened, life had been good…going along at an even keel...and I had made my peace with the way life was unfolding. I was content.   

But, when this something happened- I was ecstatic……     However, the very next day I realized that I had misunderstood what had actually happened.  The rug was pulled out from under me and I was despondent. I spent that whole day…I remember that it was a Wednesday… distraught, teary and downhearted.

On Thursday morning I suddenly had an awakening: I realized that my life was still the same as it had been on Monday before the big something had happened. The only thing that had changed IN REALITY was my feelings. My life was not bad just because I felt sad and disappointed. Literally NOTHING HAD CHANGED except that I had gotten my hopes up…I FELT different. Wow!! That experience was an eye opener. I realized right then how I was letting my feelings tweak me and rule my life. Don’t get me wrong…I love my feelings. But I can’t control them and at the same time, they don’t need to control me. They are another one of those mixed blessings.

The moral of the fairy tale:  How wonderful to be filled with the vitality ….strength, vigor, life…to be able to learn from our challenges and choose a better way the second time or the tenth time…around!  And now I can live happily ever after….mostly. It’s all holy now…even the bad times.

The End.

What a long time it takes to become the person one has always been! -- Parker Palmer

I am in the Black Hills of South Dakota right now at my parents’ house.  My mother has Alzheimer’s and my father cares for her at home. I have come to spend some time with the both of them while my mother can still remember who I am. It is not an easy visit but it isn’t torturous either….just uncomfortable.  There is not much I can actually do to help them….it is mostly just a matter of being present. They have their routine. I can help with the dishes and cook my father balanced meals but beyond that I am just hanging out with them.          We don’t really learn how to just be in our society…we learn that we’re supposed to always be doing…..but there is nothing to do here except just be who I am.

I will also be attending my high school reunion while I am here. Some of my friends from school will make the trek, including my sister. It is a reunion made up of many years, not just mine.  Most of the friends I hung out with in high school will not be here, though.....and a couple of my close friends have already died after valiant fights with cancer.         36 years ago as we were getting ready to graduate I was given the honor of being named the female ‘Most Likely to Succeed’ from the Douglas High School class of ’75. Most Likely to Succeed….what exactly did that mean?  Have I succeeded yet?  How exactly am I supposed to measure that and know when I have arrived?

In his book, Let Your Life Speak, master teacher Parker Palmer says that as we grow up “we mask ourselves in faces that are not our own….. Discovering our true self is not a goal to be achieved but a gift to be received….it does not mean scrambling toward some prize just beyond our reach but accepting the treasure of true self we already possess…..being who we are called to be does not come from a voice "out there" calling us to become something we are not.”        I have come to see this journey as living into who we already are. We don’t discover our true self by constantly “shoulding” on ourselves. We discover who we really are by listening to what our life is trying to tell us about ourselves and by claiming the gifts we have had all along.  Theologian Frederick Buechner puts it this way: your unique place in the world is "the place where your deep gladness meets the world's deep need." 

Maybe the better question for me is not - how am I supposed to measure success and know when I have arrived?  Maybe the better question is:  What is it that my classmates saw in me 36 years ago that lead them to see me as a success?  Am I living out of my true self and using the gifts that I have always had to make the most of the person that I am?  What am I called to do today?  Maybe it is to just live as a human being instead of a human doing.

“Pressure Makes Us” (from a Nike ad) "What We Do with Pressure Defines Us" (C. Wallace)

I watched yesterday as the women’s soccer teams from the U.S. and Japan vied for the World Cup. What a great game. Not one to watch sports on television often….really ever….I turned it on at my dad’s suggestion and then sat entranced as the women worked their magic. At the end of the match, as the players lined up for the penalty kicks that would decide the victor,  I was so much into the game that I felt a little fear in the pit of my stomach and in my breathing. After the match was over and the much deserved honors were being showered on the Japanese team, I wondered if fear was something that the players had felt too. Do they call it fear? Fear is an interesting thing….it can motivate us to glory, it can paralyze us, it can cause us to behave in ways not in the best interests of ourselves or our world.

Not too long ago I realized that fear is what has motivated me much of my life. I don’t think I’m so unusual either. From an early age I learned that it is not okay to be imperfect- even though that is exactly what we all are in the strictest sense of the word. So, motivated by fear…fear of failure, fear of hell, fear of losing love, fear of homelessness, fear of being labeled unsuccessful, fear of not being nice.…you get the idea…the list is LONNNNNG….I stumbled through life.

After I made this realization I decided that I did not want to be motivated by fear in such an unhealthy extreme. I would rather be motivated by my love for things and people and possibilities than my fear of their opposites. I would rather run towards life instead of away from it. I would rather stick it out in front of the goalie and try the kick that may be a success or off the mark, than refuse to participate at all.

Along the line, a soul friend sent me the poem, A Morning Offering, by the late Irish poet, John O’ Donohue. I recognized it as a gift from the Divine sent to help me focus on what I wish to live out in my life. The last stanza is especially important to me and I have memorized it and use it as a mantra.  May it be so today for us all.

“May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.”

“Connection requires participation”

In her book, Tales of a Female Nomad, Rita Golden Gelman tells about living in a Zapotec village in Mexico for a short time.

The village is small and Rita is obviously a foreigner. She looks American and does not speak the dialect. For many days she walks around the village and smiles at the people hoping to make a connection, but she gets nowhere. Each night she returns to her small room feeling more and more alone.

Finally, after the fifth day, a young woman named Juanita approaches Rita and asks her for a favor. Fearing that Juanita is going to ask for money or something else she can’t give, Rita decides to take a chance anyway. Juanita asks Rita to try on her clothes. She dresses Rita in the complicated and cumbersome garb of the village women and from then on Rita is one of them. She is allowed to cook with the women, help people in the village with their problems, learn the language and dance at the celebrations.

After she has left the village and is reflecting on her experience she says: I walked into a foreign world where people were afraid of me, and I walked out with hugs and waves and even a few tears. Initially I thought I could connect with a smile; but it wasn’t enough. I needed a teacher. Juanita’s lesson would serve me well for the rest of my life. Connection requires participation. In this setting, clothes and language were the passwords to acceptance.

We all need teachers. Often times we find ourselves in situations that seem as foreign to us as the Zapotec village was to Rita. What a gift to have someone to help us navigate the situation or to be allowed to be the teacher that helps someone else. And…there is a difference between telling someone what to do and guiding….one sure way to tell the teacher is that they are swimming right along beside us instead of yelling instructions from the shore. Connection requires participation.

Step into the River

No one steps into the same river twice for it is not the same river and they are not the same person…everything flows…nothing stands still…nothing endures but change.       Heraclitus

I am continually striving to be okay with change, knowing that the only certainty in life is change. I don’t always do so well but it is something I continue to work towards. Truthfully, if I could do it my way, I want to decide when things will change and when they won’t.  In reality, life just isn’t like that. 

Even when we think we are doing things the way we have always done them, circumstances around us are changing.  People we depend on are maturing or grieving. Attitudes-ours and other's-are evolving, fears are escalating. We have so little control over the world around us. All I can hope to control even a tiny bit is me and that is often difficult.

Over the past few months I have found myself using a new mantra…. ”Just let go. I already have everything I need.” With this mantra I am trying to let go of what I cannot be in control of and look instead to the gifts and skills I already possess. I really do have all that I need to live a full life. The world in which I am swimming is holy. With this mantra I strive to see the holiness and connectedness and let go of fear.

May we connect with the divine in each person we meet and the creative gifts of the divine embodied in each new challenge. And may we remember to look in the mirror and recognize the holy in ourselves as well.