Twinkle, twinkle...

If you want the short and more visual version of this post, take a look at this link:
http://www.wbtv.com/story/36647374/man-has-been-waving-at-cars-in-cornelius-for-almost-30-years

Last week’s post ended with the lovely image of us all being beautiful inside, like bright shining diamondy points of light. The quote by Thomas Merton  delighted me; it meshes beautifully with a book study I’ve been following.  The Wisdom Jesus emphasizes not only the vertical relationship that we have with the Creator, but also the horizontal relationship with the people around us. It emphasizes that we are all connected and that our image of our Creator just might be too small and inflexible, too vertical (you think, maybe?)

In this book, there’s an emphasis on sitting meditation and centering prayer as a way of connecting with the divine, which has been difficult for me. I’m too restless. So I practice “walking meditation” – trying to be still and listening as I walk in nature.

However, last week I’d read of another way to practice a walking meditation. Maybe purists would scoff at this bend in tradition, but there are no meditation police to arrest you if you do it wrong. The author suggests that I should identify the question, problem or issue that seems to be topmost on my mind and heart. I should articulate that issue, then release it from my mind, and go walking with a heart that’s open to my surroundings. I shouldn’t worry or noodle on the situation: just let it go and walk and see what happens.

My question was pretty simple: “What’s most important today?” There were many things calling me: making and canning applesauce; cleaning the house (ugh); calling some folks I haven’t talked to for a while; writing a new blog. And those were the easy questions; the big picture question was about my “calling”, about the way to use whatever gifts and talents I had for the greater good. A soul friend had been challenging me, saying, “You can do more.” Was I being called to “more”? And if so, what would that look like?

So I formulated the question and then let it go. In the past, I have occasionally had wonderful inspirations that came when walking, so I was hopeful. (Note the word occasionally; most of the time, it’s just a walk in the woods, refreshing, revitalizing, but nothing amazing happens.) Still, this is a great big Creator, with no boundaries, to whom I’d thrown out the question. Maybe I would get a great big lofty answer.

Well. It started out well. With trusty walking stick in hand, I went down the path, across the bridge, onto the trail. As usual, beauty surrounded me. And then voices, squeals, barks came from two children and their mom walking a dog. The children  wanted to tell me everything that was happening, what they’d seen, what their names were, and would I like to come over and visit them at their house? Delightful of course: children are beautiful. I smiled and chatted and showed them some painted rocks we’d hidden in the woods over Thanksgiving weekend.

The kids were wide-eyed and ready to look for more. This was just a little interruption in my meditative walking, I reasoned.

I continued my walk, but wouldn’t you know it, there were more dogs; more people, more smiles and hellos. Kind of hard to hear the almighty speaking with so many interruptions. And then an older woman approached me, commenting on my walking stick.

I told her the story about buying it from some Mexican illegals on the Texas side of the Rio Grande River. They had waded across the shallow river to sell their artistic creations to tourists so they could support their families who lived in a tiny, isolated village across the river. When a ranger appeared on the horizon, they were gone in a flash, back across the river in order to avoid being deported. Well, that was the beginning of another conversation, not as pleasant as the one with the children, and much more one-sided. This woman was all over the map with her strongly-held opinions; she let me know in no uncertain terms that the earth was the Lord’s and the people thereof, but they’d better come into to our country legally. And it was so sad that little ones went to bed hungry and unsafe. And Canada was a wonderful place to live, but not everyone was welcome. And more and more... My job: listen and nod, not very gracefully. I’m sure she could read my body language.

After that, I gave up the meditative part of my walking. I met fishermen fishing in the river; a whole group of schoolchildren enjoying the playground; a young couple with their newborn baby having a session with a photographer, and a man who also commented on my walking stick: “Now there’s a stick you can depend on – not like those flimsy little plastic balancing rods people are using nowadays.”

As I trundled back to the house, I wondered what I was supposed to do with all these varied experiences. I stopped to take a photo: the sun was shining through the leaves of the Katsura tree so beautifully. The sun, shining like a many-faceted diamond  ...

Oh. Aha.  Right. People shining like diamonds, who'd been put on my walking path so I could be my diamondy self, and we could shine together to light up the world. Interesting people, nervous people, opinionated people, joyful people, some reflecting light so easily, and others hiding their lights inside. And what about me? Where did I fit into that picture?

I’d asked, “What’s most important for today?” and I’d gotten an answer. I think my diamondy self needs a touch-up.

Here’s a lovely tribute to beautiful people ...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9EwEeoVW_hs&feature=youtu.be

Beauty Quest

This week, I’ve been on a beauty quest.

I ran out of room in last week’s blog  when I asked, “Is there an antidote to despair?” I talked about hope, faith, awe, action and community, but I didn’t mention Beauty. Beauty, I believe, can also be an antidote to despair.

And so this week, I decided to look for beauty wherever I went. I was encouraged in my quest by the words of Goethe: “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.”

There’s a sense of the beautiful implanted in the human soul! That’s a fine thought, and I think it is true. When I see something beautiful, I feel uplifted, and being uplifted is an antidote to despair.

Finding something beautiful in nature, when I take my walks, is not difficult. Everywhere I turn I see beauty: lime green leaves with sun shining through them;

 a tiny bird flitting through the underbrush; lacy mushroom caps perched on ivory pedestals.

And finding beauty in children isn’t hard, either. At our Thanksgiving feast this week, I watched two-year-old Grace seated between her two adoring grandfathers; they were passing tickles to each other and laughing uproariously. Grace took turns cuddling with one, and then the other, and there was no disguising the great joy she took in knowing she was greatly loved. Delightful and beautiful on many different levels. 

I picked a bouquet of the last flowers in our garden: beautiful!

I stayed up late reading an enthralling novel that ended with hopefulness: there’s beauty in words, too.

A group of homeless folks often gather in front of or inside the library in our town. I watched one bedraggled man limping across the street towards the group, and another man stood up and held out his arms. The welcoming embrace was long and warm. I realized that there is beauty in community and welcome and caring, no matter what it looks like to my middle-class eyes at first glance. And there’s beauty in growing a little bit in my awareness of that. Growth is beautiful.

I went to a concert – loved listening to the music, which transported me to other places in my imagination. It was a beautiful feeling.

Then I came across this...well, beautiful...quote, written by Thomas Merton, a Trappist monk and a mystic. One day, while standing in a crowd at a busy street corner, he unexpectedly had an inner vision about the people around him:

“Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts, the depths of their hearts ... the person that each one is in God’s eyes. If only they could all see themselves as they really are. If only we could see each other that way all the time. There would be no more war, no more hatred, no more cruelty, no more greed. ... [The glory of God] is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven. It is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together in the face and blaze of a sun that would make all the darkness and cruelty of life vanish completely.” (From Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander)

There’s a lot there to think about.  I am beautiful. You are beautiful. WE are beautiful, each one of us.

If we believe it, and treat everyone we meet as a beautiful point of light, immeasurably valuable, wouldn’t that banish despair?

Giving Thanks in the Dark

How do you write a Thanksgiving blog after a week like we’ve just had, filled with news about the tragedy that is Las Vegas?

How can you be lighthearted and channel your inner child at such a time as this? It raises all the old questions you thought maybe you’d settled long ago; or at least, you’d decided that you could live with not knowing the answers – questions like, What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? Why do bad things happen to good people? Where is God in all of this? Now, the horror has stirred up those questions again.

And yet...it is Thanksgiving Day in Canada, and it will be soon in the USA. How do we give thanks in troubled times? Perhaps we want to curl up in a ball and hide in the dark, waiting for the world to end. Perhaps we want to hand in our ID card that says we are members of the human race. The thing is, yielding to despair will never help anyone, including ourselves.  Is there an antidote?

I spent a few days poking at that idea. Surely if I could find the right answer, if I could find the definitive antidote to despair, it would be so helpful. (Don’t you agree? And I’d be rich, too!) Turns out – surprise, surprise! –  I couldn’t ... but, hallelujah, there are glimmers of light shining in that pit of darkness, and those glimmers, I believe, can see us through.

Ann Lamott says it begins with hanging on as hard as you can to any remaining shred of Hope and believing that good will prevail in the end:  “Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work: you don't give up ... hope appears if we truly desire to see it.” For Ann and others who share their wisdom and inspiring, uplifting  words, I am thankful.

Look up, says writer/activist Belvie Rooks, who worked with at-risk youth in California. As part of her work, she took her youth groups out to watch the stars.  Rooks observes that "awe and wonder are part of the antidote to despair." By being in nature, we become aware of the immensity of the cosmos, which changes our perspective on what’s happening around us. We are all connected and we belong to each other. For this beautiful world, and the wonders we see around us, and for the people in it, I am so very, very thankful.

BiG starry night sky | by IronRodArt - Royce Bair ("Star Shooter")

For others, action is the answer to despair. Do something! Do anything that will add to the sum of goodness in the world. Give money, or join an organization, or volunteer. If we all do our part, and if we find like-minded people to join us,  we will hold the darkness at bay, both in the world and in our own hearts. And for those many people who actively work for a better world, I am thankful.

photos from a project by an elementary school in Indiana

Robert Emmons, who has written a book about the subject, prescribes Gratitude: “In the face of demoralization, gratitude has the power to energize. In the face of brokenness, gratitude has the power to heal. In the face of despair, gratitude has the power to bring hope. In other words, gratitude can help us cope with hard times.” Aha! I am thankful for a reminder that Thanksgiving Day can help us combat despair. (And I am thankful for a friend who posts a gratitude on Facebook every day – cool idea, eh? A good antidote to the despair we see posted too often.)

And then there’s trust. I have come to the space in my own heart where I have to let go of the ego part of me that says, “It’s all up to me.” It’s not easy to let go. We all want to fix the hard parts of life, and fix them  NOW! Fortunately, that’s not up to us. What a burden that would be. Personally, I have come to trust that a higher power is holding this world in loving hands, that the creation is renewing itself even as I write this, and that I’m not sure what the outcome will look like, but it will be good. For that, I am deeply, unutterably thankful.

We need them all: hope, faith, gratitude, action, love, trust, and a relationship with the natural world around us. And we need more than that: we need each other to fight against the nay-sayers, the boo-birds, the doubting voices in our own heads that whisper negatives in the dark. We need to encourage each other and hold each other up when times are tough.

Together we are stronger than the sum total of our individual lives. We will hold hands and we’ll do it together. For that I am most thankful.

photo source:  123RF Cultural Stock photo