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...