a candle-inspired poem

all-in-one universe

what little light
what
little

flame.
fire.

my flame
my heart
cave of your embrace
your shelter

  - love.

one little light
one
small flame
one fire
one heart
one love
one.

one.

a wonder -

lent, again

it's lent again.  i've had such a different experience of lent every year since finishing college.  that first year i spent it with my sister at her little monastery in Honduras as i began the long journey back to spiritual wholeness.  the next year i was living in Camden, NJ, rotating my worship between two churches in Philly and our neighborhood Lutheran church.  my practice of being more intentional and balanced in my spirituality, relationships, and life was informed by Chestnut Hill UMC.  The following year found me at the Agape Community in western MA as i found direction.  two years ago i had a lazy lent in Northern Ireland.  last year i was soul-searching at Holy Hill Hermitage in Ireland, and what an awesome experience that was.

what the preceding list doesn't reveal is all of the other places i've been around and between this litany of locales through which i've wandered and wondered over the past 6 years.  and now it's lent again, and here i am in Boston, trying to find rhythm and purpose while being mostly unemployed and ensconcing myself in the emergent church community of The Crossing.

as lent begins, the Spirit drives Jesus out into the desert, into the wilderness, where he struggles with the questions of who he is and how he is called to live.  in church a question is asked, "where is your wilderness?"  this; this is my wilderness.

welcome to lent.

Thanksgiving

Sometimes I get so wrapped up in the imperfections of my life these days that it takes a determined effort to look past it all and be thankful; to remember how many things I do have to be thankful for, even if life isn’t all that I’d like it to be.  There’s so much unknowing, unfulfillment, and of course self-judgment… I’m [still] not living where I want to live, not working where I want to work, not learning what I want to learn… 

And yet.

I have a comfortable place to live, with generous people who have shared their home with me.

I have a meaningful, enlivening worship community.

I have friends nearby, and friends both near and far who care about me. 

I have family who love me.

When I think about it, I really am overwhelmed with gratitude to all of the people who support me in so many different ways!  And I am so thankful to all of those people in my life who have helped me navigate a way through crises and confusions, holding my hand and helping me find clarity and confidence; encouraged me in my adventures; and those who applauded me for taking my time to figure things out in moments when I was frustrated with my lack of forward movement.  I am awed and humbled that people ask me, in the midst of all my own uncertainties, for advice! 

I’m grateful for my education and that I know how to cook.

And that I was taught (or perhaps allowed) to cultivate a sense of awe: the ability to notice and give thanks for the small things, and marvel at God’s goodness.  God’s immanence.  The knowledge that we are holy and everything that is is holy.    

I’m grateful for the trees that keep me grounded, for my eyes that seek out wonder, birds that teach me freedom, feet that carry me to beautiful places, sounds that bring me joy, lungs that give me breath.  And for this earth that feeds us.

Wherever you may be today, whoever you may be with, thank you for being part of my life, and may you also be graced with wonder. 

Happy Thanksgiving.

homing

farewell, Holy Hill, home of my heart these past 8 months...thank you for all your love and care and stretching and soul-nurturing and adventuring and faith-exploring and laughter and the growing of gifts and gardens...(and thanks to the sun for shining bright on my last day here!)
who would have guessed when i arrived here in October how things would unfold?  certainly not i.  it was a time of deep personal and spiritual growth, and i'm certain that it has impacted me in ways that i probably don't even know yet, and won't be aware of until i get home.  

yes, home.  after one year and five months (almost to the day!) i am finally returning to the USA.  there are things i'm going to miss incredibly: the simple rhythm of daily life and communal prayer; my role as liturgical musician - and my performance buddy and partner-in-creativity; Saturday night Sabbath vigils and sung compline; the constantly shifting skies; walks on Dunmoran strand; the stunning view of Sligo/Ballisodare Bay, Knoncknarae, Ben Bulben, and the Slieve League; my window seat; pottery lessons with Paddy; spiritual direction sessions with Margaret; music sessions in Tubbercurry with Liam; cooking with Sioga; talking and singing with Travis; eating Barbara's custard w/apple tart; Rev. Allen's booming voice; being addressed as Lady Autumn and "my fair dame" by the estimable and eccentric Brother Thomas; having a whole beautiful library of meaningful books at my disposal; nobody thinking it odd if all you want to do is hole up in your hermitage and be quiet for hours on end; being surrounded by loving and encouraging people who are concerned more about the state of your soul & spirit and inner integrity than anything else...and being offered endless cups of tea.

it's like i've been enfolded in a nurturing womb, and it's been beautiful, but it also feels like the right time to leave.  i needed it, but i've been there long enough and it's time to figure out how to move forward with my life and the other aspects of my calling - it's helped me find my feet and now it's time to use them.  i feel strong enough and eager enough to press "play" and see what happens...i'm exhausted with all of this traveling and dibbling and dabbling of the last 5 years and i'm feeling ready to stop and be settled and create a life for myself.  i don't really know what that means yet, only that hopefully i'll feel less like a "wondering and wandering wind-blown leaf" and more like a little tree sapling...

Swimming the Deeps

sorry for my silence over the past 2 months, but...

I’ve been swimming the deeps

        of soul
with all the mysteries that await
        in the pressing green darkness
Enclosed and caressed
        by the surging current
Drawn down into the swirling murkiness
Reaching out-reaching in-searching
        for  -  the unnameable
                          unknowable
                          who am i how am i why am i
                          who are you
                          what is love what is God what is good
                          ?
 
Shafts of sunlight illumine the life around me
The waters churn-contract-expand
                        and me with them
        insistent in a slow soft-edged way
        demanding something more of me…
 
Yes I’ve been swimming the deeps
        captivating deeps of soul
But I must learn to use my feet again
        come up for air
And breathe into my humanness.


PS - today i took my leave of Holy Hill.  i will write a reflection on this one of these days.

an easter poem

(this poem has been gestating since it was originally conceived in February, and i think today would be an appropriate day to share it!  despite any imperfections that may remain.  critiques are welcome via email...)

lilting through an afternoon sunspell

tripping over myself with joy

i press my hands

against my breast

in fear that my heart

may else come tumbling out

if I let go...

no longer could i call my heart

"mine"...

-is that what it means

 to die of love?

-it would be annihilated

by that ultimate

ever-living

Holy Fire.

-it would disintegrate

into innumerable shining flecks

burrowing into the earth

rising on the song of a sparrow

whirling in the wind

sprinkling stardust wherever it passed

enlivening all it touched

  

and I would be

-resurrected!

but hasn't this happened 

already?

these feeble human hands

in their pathetic embrace of this

fractured human heart

            -which is even now seeping out through every pore in my body!

haven’t a self-preserving chance 

in the presence of this

infinite

ever-loving God.

happy holy-days

Dear friends,

This Christmas season finds me remaining at Holy Hill, where I have been since Oct 6, when my parents left from their lovely little tour of Scotland and Ireland with me.  It was quite the wonderful little adventure we had together! -- dashing through the rain, squishing through bogs, sheltering in castles, driving through the mountains (and through herds of cattle or sheep depending on the day), sleeping in lighthouses, riding on ferries, standing in megalithic structures older than the great pyramids, climbing in ruined church towers, comparing scones, mourning for trees, gazing at the ocean, watching the clouds race across the sky, and basking in the sun's rare glow.

As you know if you've been reading my blog, I was ready for some calm, quiet time to reflect on my experiences, rejuvenate my spirit, and consider my future, so I came to Holy Hill, which was offering a 2-month contemplative experience for young adults. 

T.S Eliot's description fits my experience here when he writes,

and what you thought you came for
is only a shell, a husk of meaning
from which the purpose breaks only when it is fulfilled
if at all.  either you had no purpose
or the purpose is beyond the end you figured
and is altered in fulfillment.
...
you are not here to verify,
instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
or carry report.  you are here to kneel
where prayer has been valid...

(4 Quartets: Little Gidding)

I thought I would be spending most of my time on discernment, trying to decide the next steps to take in this journey that is my life. Of course I was also looking forward to the support of a spiritual community and other young adults in similar situations, but pretty soon those spiritual hungers took over my practical quest and I was fully immersed in the program schedule:
7am morning office, work projects from 1-4pm, group book discussions on Tuesday and Friday from 11-12, silence from 4-5, evening office at 5, dinner on Wednesdays at 6, Friday night movie after communion service, Saturday morning chores from 9-12 and sabbath vigil/compline at 7:30pm followed by silence until Sunday morning. Saturday and/or Sunday afternoons often involved community outings, visiting local sites of historic/cultural/religious significance or going on walks in the woods/on the beach. Sunday brunch was the big feast of the week, when usually all of the retreatants would be present. Mondays were much needed "desert days" of solitude. Plus there were often special things going on during the week: a trip south to visit Ballintubber Abbey, a Celtic Christian ceremony at a Holy Well, a play, a trad session at a pub.

The questions about my future have not been answered, and yet I seem to have made some peace with the idea of simply trying to live in touch with myself and with God and trusting that as I do so, things will unfold...  Advent is all about clearing a place in your heart for God to enter in; trusting the goodness of God enough to let the Spirit take root in your soul and be born into the world through you.

May beauty and grace find you this Christmas season,

autumn

gratitude

so much has happened on so many different levels of life this week, that i can hardly believe that one week could contain so much goodness: pottery with Paddy, singing workshops with Petra, masses with Fr. Bernard, a festive Thanksgiving meal, a music-filled birthday celebration, a beautiful advent service, a mud-filled walk in the bay with Paddy, homemade scones by Barbara, an exhilaratingly windy beach walk with Vincent, some deep email exchanges with friends back home, and two affirming emails from my mother...
on Wednesday i wrote in my journal "i feel like i could be the sunshine on this wet, windy, grey day!"

the overwhelming feeling in my heart this week has been gratitude. 

gratitude, gratitude, gratitude.

gratitude for the beauty of God revealed in creation and music.
gratitude for friends old and new who have enough mutual love and trust to be able to share deeply and honestly and hold each other up in our joys, our sorrows, our challenges, our questions.
gratitude for the community we have formed with our neighbors, for their generosity, hospitality, humor, and wisdom.
gratitude for [Catholic] priests who do radical things and who let us [Protestants] take communion
gratitude for my parents who love me and encourage me to follow my heart
gratitude for my own journey of spiritual growth and the peaceful place i find myself in at the moment
and this week especially: gratitude for Caroline and Alex and their passionate spirits! this is paired with much sadness, too, about the departure of our dear companions on this contemplative journey
- and yet the joy remains.

a not-quite-poem

(upon being requested to write a reflection about action and contemplation...)

over the weekend, i kept being stopped in my tracks at the sight of the way certain leaves would catch the sunlight and seem to glow almost like lightbulbs. sitting in worship on sunday, with the light streaming in through the windows i was, as often happens, filled with such a sense of joy and life and peace and, well, fullness...and i thought, “how do i share that with others?” so i spent the day looking for a metaphor, of something (in nature) that fills with light and then transmits that light to others. it would have been easy enough to use the symbol of water, of a vessel being filled with water until it overflows, but that didn’t seem very original. plus, i was looking for light. the moon also offered itself as an image, but it seemed a rather over-used cliche as well. and not quite appropriate, because the moon itself doesn’t fill with light, it just reflects it...

and then i went to the chapel to pray,
and there was the beautiful crucifix,
and there was the window which,
from my lowly vantage point (the floor)
perfectly framed a bare tree on the hillside and i thought:
     in order to keep living, the tree must
     give up its golden jewels to make space for
     new life. it is the never-ending
     cycle of growth, death, re-birth; of
     resurrection; of
     the spiritual life
through water, soil,
photosynthesis
we are fed, we grow
we are filled with the holy spirit;
and when we come to maturity,
our leaves turn into sparking jewels
     topaz and ruby
     filled with light!
but as we revel in this new-found beauty, we must
     eventually,
     by will or by force,
     let it go
     send it forth
     die to ourselves
     in order to serve the world’s needs
     for replenishment.
and yet through that very act,
we receive back again that very same gift
which after a period of rest, of dormancy, revives us
to begin again.

through prayer, silence, and contemplation, one grows and is filled with the glory of God until it can no longer contain itself, and it spills out into active service for the world, and is restored to fullness and new growth through further reflection and contemplation...

suspended joy

in the woods outside my window 

amber jewels shimmer suspended
in the air

oh the magic of sunlight in autumn!

the trees cling to their 

      beautiful ornaments their
      golden treasures their
      shining
      dying
      treasures

they offer them out to me
      fingers aflame
            see?
            look at what God can do
            !

unable to contain such joy,
the beech tree shakes with delight
and sends showers of glistening
teardrops
onto the waiting
hungry
earth below.

lessons from a clothespin

think of a clothesline. if the line is a spectrum representing God, then the clothespins are people, clinging to their beliefs about God. as the line gets blown about in the wind, they hang on tight with their faith and weather the storms that come their way. occasionally, heavy burdens come upon them which in the wind will sometimes cause them to twist and strain and even snap!

but there’s one little clothespin that spins freely round and around, sliding up and down the line as it moves in the wind. the others don’t understand – she doesn’t appear to be useful at all; no grip on reality, impossible to pin down, completely impractical! and yet, she never snaps and falls.

she has embraced the mystery of God, giving her the freedom to explore and celebrate, and the flexibility to face life’s challenges with an open mind...

little sailboat

today i am a little sailboat
  (who once upon a time set off
   across the big wide ocean
   her sail full of hopes and dreams and anticipation for
   a soul-full adventure
   into life
   and toward god...)

today i am a little sailboat
adrift.

the air still and heavy
the sail slack for lack of a breeze
and, having run out of fuel to motor my way along,
there is
   nothing
i can do to direct or propel myself onward
  (not that i would know which direction to go
  anyway, given the clouds)

   where am i?
   where am i going?
   how will i ever get there?

the only thing i can do is
wait
and rely on the ocean current to carry me
slowly
along...

(and someday
the wind will pick up again, i know)

the trees are black

(this is the first of two poems that i wrote this past week, not noticing until rereading them later how similar their themes were...must be a lot of waiting and trusting going on inside me right now!)

the trees are black

against a deep dark blue and yet
i know that they are green:
  green-and-brown-and-yellow-and-grey
...i have seen them.

the trees are black.

they stand un-self-consciously
their beautiful half-naked figures silhouetted
by the shining blue
sapphire light of early morning

waiting.
patiently

for the earth to turn (as it always does) towards
the sun; and be illumined
in all their autumnal glory.  and yet -
for now

the trees are black.

synchronicity

in this time of uncertaintly about my future, i couldn't help but notice the synchronicity that today's scripture reading was the same one that helped me so much in my confusion four years ago (four years!).  it was the story of jesus walking on water and petter getting out of the boat to walk towards him.

last time, i interpreted the story much more metaphorically - about my faith journey, leaving behind the familiar, venturing into a more universal spirituality, and being supported in that journey by god.  this time, it was more literal, about physical journeys and callings.
"if you call me, i will come" says peter.  and jesus does, so peter steps out of the boat and goes.
my thought process went like this:
1) i'm waiting to hear that call
but 2) i'm not listening very actively, paying attention, reading, reflecting, writing, things that will help me hear it
then again, 3) peter didn't just stand there looking at jesus and waiting for him to call him out onto the water, he initiated it by asking jesus to call him!
so 4) i need to be not just listening, but asking... 

Well, I've been here exactly a month now, and to my chagrin I haven't written any more updates.  However, you CAN read weekly-ish updates about what's happening at Camas on the Camas blog (called the camas diary), which will give you a good taste of what my life is like in general...

If you're not on my email list, here's the most recent summary of my life here:

This past month has consisted of getting to know the group of 10 staff I'll be living and working with until September, two full weeks of training, a couple of trips over to Iona, a wonderful visit from my good friend Gretchen, and our first two weeks of youth programs.  And lots of rain.  It was a bit of a shock to arrive here after two amazingly summery weeks in Northern Ireland where I was eating fresh spinach and rhubarb from the garden, and encounter such cold weather and a much later growing season.  We just had our first lettuce from the polytunnel this week!

 

In a typical week, a group will arrive on Saturday afternoon and leave on Friday morning.  The staff team takes turns cooking meals and leading different activities such as kayaking, hiking, raftbuilding, abseiling (rapelling), camping, arts & crafts, games, or other outdoor activities such as working in the garden or shelter-building.  After breakfast, which consists of porridge and scones, and chores we have morning reflection with the group.  lunch is always soup and fresh bread.  dinner is followed by evening reflection.  

 

staff also take turns leading the reflections, and i've found that aspect of life here to be the least fulfilling because many of the staff are either not that interested in spirituality or aren't comfortable using God-language with the groups.  It's only frustrating because it's not what I expected, given the mission statement and the Iona connection.  However, every Friday we go over to Iona, and I get the chance to attend worship in the Abbey and connect with volunteers there, and there are a few of us who do yoga in the mornings a few days a week, so that's all very nice.

 

At the moment I'm trying to decide when to take my week-long vacation this summer and where to go.  One idea I've had is to volunteer and attend the Greenbelt Festival down in Cheltenham, England, as long as I'm over in this part of the world!  Or perhaps find a super-cheap ticket to somewhere else in Europe...Any suggestions?  My term at Camas ends on September 17th, but my UK visa doesn't expire until early October, so I'd love to make use of it and do some more exploring or WWOOFing while I'm here!

If any of you are thinking of making a trip to Iona or Scotland or the UK between now and October, be in touch!

flight

i watch the birds – crows and gulls, mostly, but also that striking black and white one whose name i do not know – i watch them in the air on these windy days; how the gusts and gales push them about faster, slower, up, down, sideways, even backwards, wreaking havoc on their usually graceful flight. i imagine what it might feel like, this experience of surrendering to the powerful, unpredictable wind.

Do they find it frustrating because it only serves to make their hunt for food more difficult? Or do they choose to take wing just for the fun of it? Do they fly only because they have to, or also because they want to?

Do birds feel joy?

Flying on a day like this seems like it would be so much more exciting than on a calm day...more exhilarating, requiring more skill and awareness. It's hard to believe they do it purely out of necessity, because they make such graceful patterns in the sky, rarely seeming to have a destination. Do they know that they are beautiful?

seeing them soar always makes me wish i could fly, but instead i just watch and imagine...can i live my earth-bound life with the same kind of grace, joy, and dependency on god's wind-spirit? time to practice being a bird...

temporarily uncentered

If I didn't know that this lifestyle I'm living right now was temporary, I think I'd be going crazy. I'd be trying to find a way to become part of a community, looking for meaning, having a spiritual crisis even, and in general be really frustrated with my life.

I've found that in this urban, independent, work-a-day lifestyle (even though I love my job!), I don't know how to be centered in God. I've been using a Celtic prayer book to do brief morning and nighttime prayers to try and ground myself spiritually at least a little, but ironically, it sometimes makes it harder! Here's why: for the past year I've been living in the woods and the countryside, surrounded by nature, which is where I feel closest to God and most connected to my spirituality, and the prayer book uses a lot of nature imagery and metaphor. But I'm living in the city now! And that language simply doesn't connect with what I'm experiencing. In fact, sometimes it makes me resent what I'm experiencing, which is exactly NOT what prayer is supposed to do. It's supposed to help you connect with your own soul, and to God and to center you spiritually in your reality (among other things). So if I were to stay in the city longer, I would need to find a prayer resource that helps me do that in an urban context, using urban imagery and metaphors to speak of the spiritual experience.

But I'm not frustrated with my life or worried about getting stuck in an unfulfilling rut, because instead, I'm leaving in two weeks!

thoughts on church

I went to North UCC, the Open & Affirming one, in Middletown for the 2nd time today - and the pastor wasn't there this week either! I had multiple reactions to the service:
1) they're fairly progressive, but i'm sick of traditional male-centered theological language.
2) The service was led by lay leaders, and there was some deep story-sharing which reminded me of Sweet Home UMC. :)
3) they watched a video about worship that said "worship is supposed to be about God, not about how it makes you feel" and "Jesus calls us to worship his name, not argue about it." I see the truth in both of those statements, but...it's not worship unless it connects with me and speaks to my soul, is it? and, Jesus doesn't ask us to worship him, but to worship God. yeah, I have a problem with worshipping Jesus.
4) For special music, a woman played guitar and sang Gather Us In and Be Not Afraid - the kind of music I love and miss - it was wonderful and moving!
5) For the benediction, the same woman called everyone to join hands in a circle and said a prayer about diversity and loving our uniqueness and then we sang a song. :)
6) after experiencing number (1), it was reassuring to witness the struggle of the congregation to deal with the changing world around them and how to be God's presence; their passions around the need for action and trying to find answers for what they can do in their community.

Bear foot prayer

i prayed today with my bare feet pressed
against the sun-warmed stone at the top of Bear Mountain
overlooking the Hudson River Valley
and the steep deep green of the Appalachians

beautiful view, beautiful feeling, beautiful day.

journeying

a morning writing exercise:

i am journeying to a full life in God, with God. with questions all over the place! with an unknown destination. aimlessly? i hope not. my journey has had its bumps and lumps, has not always been fun, has had its fair share of tears. my soul's journey has been to try to find God, always seeking that connection. in the words of julian of norwich, how do i "one myself to God"? it is not an easy or self-explanatory road. it has required community. my journey has been uncomfortable often. it's been hard to find the right people. i am journeying through cornfields and tomato plants and kale and collards and silence and snow and woodstoves and sweat and little boys and crayfish ponds and memories and trees and retreats and conflict and misunderstandings and new friendships and laughter and pain and joy and journals and impatience and growth. i am journeying.