Peace Prayer

O God, we are one with you,
You have made us one with you.
You have taught us that if we are open to one another,
You dwell in us.
Help us to preserve this openness
and to fight for it with all our hearts.
—Thomas Merton, from The Seven Storey Mountain

found at explorefaith.org

Christmas Thought

Give food to the
Hungry, O Lord,
And hunger
For You to those who have food.

Christian Grace
found in the book Bread Body Spirit, Finding the Sacred in Food

Abundance - More About Less

As I sat by the window reading, watching the snow accumulate, being warmed by the fire, I was in awe of the gentleness within one feels when the snow is falling. It is a different feeling when you have to go out in it...but settling into the warmth inside was a gentling sensation. Hanging on the deck is a basket that is now overflowing with the abundance of snow we have received - snow being a rare thing here on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia.

These words from Ted Loder, I Have So Few Ways to Pray actually spoke to me of abundance: the unexpected, the surprises, the love that came in the tough places with those surprises, and just how often I found God with so much for me when I thought there was too little.

Lord,

I have so few ways to pray, but you have many ways to answer.

Keep me alert
to your unpredictable answers, to your unexplainable surprises.

And by your grace,
make me one of those surprises for the sake of the One who taught us the surprises
of moving mountains, healing touches, wonderous stories, great banquets,
first suppers,
broken bread...
crosses and resurrections.

Abundance seems to be less about more and more about what you cannot see but what you know in the stillness, in the waiting and in the listening.

Merton Ponderings on Christmas

The mystery of Christmas lays upon us all a debt and an obligation to the rest of [humankind] and to the whole created universe. We who have seen the light of Christ are obliged, by the greatness of the grace that has been given us, to make known the presence of the Savior to the ends of the earth. This we will do not by preaching the glad tidings of His coming, but above all by revealing Him in our lives. Christ is born to us today, in order that He may appear to the whole world through us.

Thomas Merton. Seasons of Celebration (New York: Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1965): 112.


Thought for Christmas

This one day is the day of His birth, but every day of our mortal lives must be his manifestation, His divine Epiphany, in the world which He has created and redeemed.

Seasons of Celebration: 112

Contemplative Action Thoughts

These two words, “contemplative” and “action” continue to be infused into living these days. A magnificent piece of music is currently playing, Gloria Patri, written by Vivaldi. The piece is slow and meditative, drawing me again to these two words - contemplative action. Like a cup of tea where the leaves continue to transform the water to make a comforting drink that warms and soothes as it is taken within, these words are infused into my being.

I recently attended a gathering for facilitators of Centering Prayer groups. Due to traffic we arrived a bit late and were there just in time for the first 20 minutes of silence - the first sit of the day of Centering Prayer. The ‘silence’ was filled with sound and movement; the coffee pot gurgled and sloshed as it percolated and also released the fragrance of the brewing beverage into the air, the fan was loud as it intermittently switched on and off to move the air around the room. You could hear others breathing. Be still and know that I am God is the instruction we use for this practice. We moved into stillness and in that place of waiting and being I found my senses became so alive and the smallest movement or sound was crystal clear. There is no sound as each moves into their own heart space to sit with the Spirit - it is a silent movement that draws the heart, mind, body and soul to singleness, to come undivided before God, to come to this precious intimate room within, that has no limits as to size capability.

What really is astonishing me is that action comes from stillness! Yes, in our little coastal community here in British Columbia, I am finally letting my being be open to the reality that there is inner movement as I learn to be still. Lingering, a most delightful action for the senses to embrace, invites me to contemplative spaces. Jesus friends seemed to linger in the places he was. I love lingering, just being present with God in solitude. I love those spaces of time when my husband and I linger together. It isn’t stagnant or stifling in these places. You reach down deep inside, letting your senses connect you to everything around and let the Spirit connect you to this deeply intimate action of being present, awake, aware and alive to this one moment! Business of action and of my mind seem to intrude to steal this time from me all too often and that kind of action paralyzes much of my thinking and my heart. Stillness has to be so intentional for me and while the Spirit often invites me into this place my heart does not always accept the invitation. Yet I know it is the only place where my creative side begins to unfold and my senses become very tuned in. It is the space where “ah ha” moments are revealed.

Be still and know that I am God: to be still one must be present and to know ( that inner place of acknowledging) one must open the heart to listen. It also speaks of obedience - following the voice of Love.

Looking out at the morning fog I feel the stillness and I also feel the embrace of Holy Presence - the stillness invites my soul to gentle and deep action to live, to love, to be and to know God and myself a little better. The words in my journal begin to unfold and creative ideas begin to flow.

Uniqueness and Copies quote

"We are all born originals. The unfortunate thing is that somewhere along the way, so many of us become copies. We let others do our thinking for us and chart our route."

Soul Fire, pg 24
by Thomas Ryan

Markers On The Pilgrimage

In the morning quiet, with only the gentle waves as a tender simple melody, David and I walked across Middle Beach, and back. As we turned our direction from the beach and back up the rocks to our cabin up on the cliff, he stopped to build a small simple cairn that marked our presence and would remain after our footprints had been washed away by the ever moving sea. Only we would know it not only marked our presence but it was on the day of his 60th birthday and his continuing restoration to health.

My husband loves to build these rock piles and there are many of them on our little piece of sacred space in the woods that we call home. They are on the paths in the trees, by the labyrinth he built years ago, in places hidden, and visible posts as well. I believe we all build these markers, these cairns as we take this pilgrimage of life, and I have been reflecting on the markers within my inner being. They come to mind at times when I need reminding of the crossroads used to build them and the journey forward which followed.

In the late autumn David and I spent three splendid days hiking in Cathedral Lakes Provincial Park, high up in the mountains on paths that were not always easy to discern. What you had to look for was the trail of little rock cairns that have been left by someone who had travelled there before that marked the way. These simple path indicators are created from what is already there, and are the only way to see where to go, or to see where you have travelled from.

As my 50th birthday approaches the significance of the last 10 years has brought to mind specifically the cairns that mark the sacred path of this decade of my life. The ancient story that the Almighty has written which, is mine alone, with its own wrestling and tears that are part of the colour and outline of that story, the laughter and love that add fragrance, those who have walked along with me or crossed my life road/pilgrimage, all have pieces in the cairns/markers which have been created and set within. As I look at this photo of the hand creating I see the hand of the Almighty placing the pieces together. There have been new paths and adventures, sorrow and loss, and love to embrace. One must continue to work through healing, restoration and redemption, and the ever present challenge to stay in the ‘now’ and to walk through the questions and unknowns and trust the Beloved’s all embracing presence in each step.

Looking back I realize how each marker took me to a place of solitude, contemplation, and active waiting. Each one called me to be still within, yet to outwardly be moving. As I write I realize how much each cairn built in my soul also has and does call me to celebration, to the acknowledging and embracing of all the emotions, all the broken pieces, and all that was still whole. The Spirit was present in each place where the stop was celebration or grief, or fatigue. Holy Wisdom continues be within and carefully select the stones that build each cairn to mark this way my soul must travel . The Almighty knows the crossroads I stand at today and I hold the questions and search for the pieces to build the marker that will remain as I continue the pilgrimage.

“Set up for yourselves highway markers, make for yourselves guideposts; turn your thoughts and attention to the way by which you went.” Jeremiah 31:21 Amp.

Invisible Imprinting

The sand along the beach was soft and cool, just the right kind of beach for long walks. We did a little dance as the incoming waves would suddenly be chasing us across the sand and we made a dash higher to keep dry shoes! It was delightful play with the sea on the Pacific Rim beaches. Sometimes it was just my husband and I or perhaps my step daughter and son-in-law along with us. The imprint of our soles was left after each step, with various depths depending on how much water the sand held at the moment and how firm it was. And then of course, a large wave would come and wash over them, refilling the imprint with sand. If someone didn’t see us, but looked across the beach, would they know we had been there? When the beach became more rocky there was no visible prints from our feet at all.

I thought again about the subject of ‘ invisibility’ that so many of us have experienced somewhere in our life journey. That feeling or sense that no one can see who you are today, in this moment, is deeply painful at every level of your being. Your real spirit and soul is invisible to those around you. Yet we are still there, our imprint is being made, and we have left behind something of our essence as we move through this moment, this space of life! Just like the beach, we have surely been there. So how do I keep this truth, this reality, and not discount what is unseen, or how I may have felt unseen?

As I looked back over my shoulder and watched the water wash away my foot prints there was an exhilaration within that even though the imprint of my foot was no longer visible, I knew I had been there, I was there, and how each step felt so good, so real and true. This was me, alive, vibrant, full of life and walking with those I loved. That cannot be taken from me as I write this and time has passed. With the sea shouting its presence, inhaling and exhaling in ceaseless rhythm upon the shore, I thought of how being present, holding within, in honour, all of who I am, is simple obedience. To live that out whether it is seen or unseen is not my call. To live out who I am is obedience to the Image of God within me and if I can be visible to myself, I can trust that my imprint has be placed in every step I take, every act of obedience to the Spirit within. The Giver of Life is the one doing the imprinting and even that is more invisible than visible to me. I must learn to trust Them more, but I feel it is that trust that had me turn my head, look behind and see no prints, and know it did not negate the truth of have placed my feet there and know my own unique imprint was in the sand, upon the beach, upon this earth.

In the rhythm on my own breathing, inhaling and exhaling, I am sitting with this piece of Light, and knowing that invisibility is less about darkness and more about the Light of Holy Presence and the reality of being visible to my own person with more dignity and honour. It is a deeper call to be obedient more fully to who I have been created to be because all of that is visible to the Almighty.

Richness of Now

If I could paint this season, these would be the colours.

Yet it has already been painted for me,

rich

lush

perfect

never the same again


Just perfect for this moment when

it captured my attention.

So spectacular -

in the wilderness away from the noise of life,

it calls me into silence and wonder.

Morning Quote

"There is more happiness in giving than in receiving." This comment of Jesus is quoted by St Paul (Acts 20:35) though it is not in the Gospels. We know its truth from experience - there is such joy in giving to the one we love. ‘Giving' does not mean just the transfer of property; that can be done (think of corporate donations) without any emotion. Part of the joy of giving is that it costs us. Remember King David's protest, "I will not offer sacrifices that cost me nothing." (II Samuel 24:24) Whether what we are giving is money, or a gift, or care, or time, there must be something of ourselves in it. I love the old Dean's wisdom in Babette's Feast, "The only things we take with us from our life on earth are those which we have given away."

from
Sacred Space - Daily Prayer Online.

The Inner History of a Day

No one knew the name of this day;
Born quietly from deepest night,
It hid its face in light,
Demanded nothing for itself,
Opened out to offer each of us
A field of brightness that traveled ahead,
Providing in time, ground to hold our footsteps
And the light of thought to show the way.

The mind of the day draws no attention;
It dwells within the silence with elegance
To create a space for all our words,
Drawing us to listen inward and outward.

We seldom notice how each day is a holy place
Where the eucharist of the ordinary happens,
Transforming our broken fragments
Into an eternal continuity that keeps us.

Somewhere in us a dignity presides
That is more gracious than the smallness
That fuels us with fear and force,
A dignity that trusts the form a day takes.

So at the end of this day, we give thanks
For being betrothed to the unknown
And for the secret work
Through which the mind of the day
And wisdom of the soul become one.

by John O'Donohue
pg 161 - To Bless the Space Between Us

Time to Linger

Vacations



Those spaces of time where you linger through the day, stopping to take time to enjoy simple pleasures that only ask you to stay in that moment and savour it, to sip it, taste and enjoy. Those spaces of time that call you into a good book that is pure pleasure reading.

We lingered on the beaches in the Pacific Rim, sat on our hotel deck in comfortable chairs, with a good book, a glass of wine and warm autumn sun to enfold us. We celebrated our first wedding anniversary and David's 60th birthday. And we answered the invitation to stop and enjoy that gift of time together.

A Hint of Autumn

It was a most glorious Sunday afternoon and although it was cool, the sun was shining and a gentle breeze caused the leaves to begin to flutter and descend to the ground. September has only just arrived and it shouldn’t be autumn yet but the cool air smells like it has arrived. A hint of cool in the air, shorter days, leaves descending to the ground as Autumn lets us know she is leisurely arriving and will settle in soon.

The Bruised Angel Flower

My friend and I headed to our favourite walking spot, Bonnybrook Beach, for time to inhale and exhale the fragrance of the day and to chit chat and catch up on life. When I picked her up she handed me this beautiful Angel Trumpet flower from her garden. Later she was concerned that this particular flower was not perfect - there are bruises on the petals. While she sees the perfection in all these living things, I found it a perfect flower for this moment because of those imperfections! This tall flower comes in limited numbers each year and has the most exquisite fragrance that cannot be discerned by looking at it from a distance. The name of it even reminded me of things that are not seen by our eyes only - our other senses can “see” so distinctly and perfectly. This Angel Trumpet had its own story to tell me this day.

The other day I was on my ‘irregular but want to be regular’ hour and a quarter walk to work. It is a route that is all country road with a few houses and fairly steady traffic in the morning. The whole area of feeling invisible was in my thoughts and I felt it was very important that I embrace this concept instead of trying to wrestle with it currently. If I am to embrace invisibility will I learn to see more clearly? What does that feel like? There is a stream about half way along my morning walk that flows from the upper side of the road, under it, and then it comes out close to where I am walking. The sound is strong and vibrant, this water racing from upper places, passing through gardens, under roads, through this piece of forest and then in a short distance venturing out into open waters. It is a life giving patch along the route to work. Yet it is completely hidden from my view - invisible to my eyes but so seen by my ears and sense of smell. A whole symphony of sound is ‘visible’ through a multitude of birds whose songs I can hear when there are no vehicles coming by.

In those places where we feel unseen, and our heart and soul seem invisible to others, there is a bruising and soreness. I, at least, tend to feel my imperfections deeply in places of seeming invisibility. My Angel Trumpet flower made me think of how I see this flower through its fragrance - bruised areas and very perfect areas combined. My walk caused me to ponder how many things affect me deeply and bring such beauty yet my eyes are not what sees them.

Perhaps those places of invisibility in my own pilgrimage of life are also the points which call me more deeply, richly, and wildly into the contemplative life where God will teach me to ‘see’ more clearly.

“Open your eyes and there it is! By taking a long and thoughtful look at what God has created, people have always been able to see what their eyes as such can’t see: eternal power, for instance, and the mystery of his divine being.”

That Aroma of Coffee

This morning is cool, cooler than the past few weeks of summer mornings, and I am ready for a steaming cup of coffee. The smallest little pot is the one for this morning - a single cup of strong coffee made with espresso and hot water. Cool water is placed in the bottom of the pot and then fine, powder fine grounds of aromatic coffee grounds are pressed into the little filter container. The top is then tightly put on and I place the little pot on the stove and wait for the hissing and gurgling that will let me know my hot strong coffee is ready.

My mind wanders back to those hot summer days in Italia where espresso, two or maybe three cups during the day, were enjoyed. A cup of coffee was routine mid morning, and could be consumed as I stood at the coffee bar somewhere in the centre of town after picking up the fresh bread, the fresh mozzarella and equally fresh vegetables for the menu of the day. Once lunch was consumed and the dishes cleared up, my friend Emeddia and I pulled our chairs across the freshly swept tile floor, in the quiet of the high ceiling kitchen, feeling the breeze through the tall open doors to the veranda, watching the laundry sway in the hot summer afternoon, and we sat down to enjoy our cup of espresso and share tidbits of our day, of our lives.

Two espresso makers that came with me 10 years ago as I returned to Canada have ceased to work and new ones have taken their place. The french press style pot is a gift from my husband on our honeymoon - one like it was used to make coffee in our hotel room each morning we spent at Brentwood Bay Lodge.
My step daughter picked me up a pound of coffee last week that is just the right grind and blend to make an excellent cup of espresso or an Americano.

Our sense of smell is the most powerful memory trigger we have. The aroma of coffee continually reminds me of a part of my journey that took me to a tough ship building town in Compagnia and led me into a year of awakening, where the aroma of coffee was a part of the aroma of awaking to la passione de vita - mia vita.

Those Fresh Ironed Sheets

Ahhh that feel of smooth, soft, crisp, pressed sheets, that are fitted so tightly around the bed. They smell of the wind that has invisibly come to move them back and forth as they hang to dry. My hands run along each sheet, each pillowcase after it is ironed and then they are folded and fitted together ready to be placed in the drawer awaiting their next use.

Ironing is a task that is not very common, in fact recently someone spoke of how it was a waste of time and energy. Very few freshly made beds are prepared with those sheets that have been hung to dry and then folded and ironed. Most people don’t even seem to notice.

As a little girl I used to watch my Grandma feed the bleached white sheets through the wringer washer and then put them into the wicker basket. We would carry it up the concrete stairs, open the slanted dark green wooden doors where we would find the clothes line, and place the basket on the lawn. The wheels on the line would squeal as the weight of the sheets was tossed over them. The damp cotton felt cool to my little hands even on a very hot day. My reach was far too limited to stretch those beautiful white panels out but it could touch the bottom hem as they rested upon the line that stretched from the back of the house through the garden to the garage. I could stand between them and be enveloped in that beautiful clean scent of laundry and look up into the blue sky to feel the warm sun on my face. I could hear them snap in the wind as it picked up its pace. Then at night I would climb into bed, bathed and fresh and clean, and let the cool crisp sheets be pulled up over me. I would inhale the scent, lay my hands upon the wrinkle free cloth and listen to the cicadas sing on those summer nights at my Grandparents home.

Ironing sheets today are part of a ritual in some of my daily tasks. There are 17 beds to change at Linwood House and at times my shoulders ache as I strip and then remake each bed. But my hands still love the feel of those clean sheets and somehow making up a bed with those pressed fresh sheets is a way for me to place love within that room. Sounds crazy? Maybe it is. But someone will soon come to rest in that place and their body will seek sleep and their mind may not be in tune with that. Can the unseen love that prepared this place for them to rest be felt by them? Will they know I wanted them to rest well - body, soul and spirit?

As a young woman part of my role in a family of six children, I being the eldest followed by 5 boys, was to share with my mother the weekly ironing the 37 shirts and the sheets of the 7 beds in the house. Standing there, spreading my hands over the sheets or shirts to smooth them, then applying the hot iron and listening to the hiss of the steam and inhaling the particular scent, I used to have all sorts of conversations with people who would never hear my voice or even see me. Later on this time of standing became a place to have a one way dialogue with God who I could not see and most of the time felt was not even listening to me. But I could say what I thought! Maybe standing and ironing even became the birthplace of honest conversations with the Almighty. To this day it continues to be a space of standing to speak with Them.

Clothes lines in Australia, Scotland, Ireland, Italy, have been places I have stood, shaken out the fabric and hung it over the line. In Italy we used to hang out the sheets in the rain from the balcony, and then place plastic over the lines, leaving them there for several days before bringing them in to iron them. I have loved those moments in other places where I could stretch out those clean sheets and let them waft in the breeze to dry. The wind may carry a different scent but it feels the same no matter where you go.

Today I ironed, stretched, and moved the fabric to pull out the creases, and applied the heat of the iron to newly washed sheets. A hint of lavender spray was added for a touch of scent that relaxes the mind. My hands delighted in running over their smoothness.

This is a continuing ritual for me at the end of the day when one lays their body between the sheets, lifts their feet into the bed, lets themselves be covered with this fabric that is a multitude of threads entwined, and at last lets the mind, body and soul rest and fall into sleep that restores and nourishes.

Have we become so hurried that rituals we hold dear rob us of moments that call our senses into a place of pure delight in something so ordinary and so simple? It may not be ironing, but for me this task holds memories of time, of delight, of people who are gone from this earth that nurtured me by taking time to patiently teach me these tasks. It is a reminder that even getting into bed can be a sacred moment in a day.

And…maybe I am crazy but I still love the feel, the scent, and the look of those beautiful smooth sheets on the bed waiting for someone to get in and rest there.

Waiting

to be ready, to open into fullness










for morning sun to fill this space




in rest, then to fly








in

Holy Presence, in stillness

Contemplative Spaces - In Stillness, In Motion

The warmth of summer always calls me out to enjoy her presence and to bask in the sunshine. We never seem to get enough of it here on the West Coast of British Columbia but then I think I am greedy - being a hot weather person I always want more of this particular season.

While the outdoors is always the most wonderful natural Cathedral, a place where I seek and find God, I find myself needing to seek very specific time, to be intentional, about places to wait and listen for the Almighty. Sometimes it means literally being still and waiting, while at other times it can be the gentle quiet rhythmic motion of moving forward.

I used to find that cross country skiing held that contemplative space in motion but I have not done that for a number of years - since I moved away from Calgary and the proximity to the mountains 7 years ago. Now that space comes through kayaking and my intention is to do much more of it this summer. Our first paddle of the season was a wonderful hot day and we quietly moved up the coast watching the birds, the seals were creating a splash while they played, oyster catchers with their bright orange beaks and their black bodies called out with their own unique cry and it drifted across the water. My body was in motion as I paddled but my soul moved into still places and rested there.

Inner stillness does not necessarily mean you are not in motion. While literally being still in the early morning is where I seek Holy Presence, I am so often delightfully surprised by Their presence when my soul is being still and I am surrounded by the motion, the natural rhythm of nature. This is still such a mystery to me -a Holy Mystery, that Creation offers such a wonderful whisper to come and be still and observe and feel how the wind in motion creates inner peace. Often simply feeling the wind, either fierce or gentle, restores peace to those spaces within my soul that get agitated. Life, vibrant life, is the message that the wind, the Spirit, writes within when I feel the wind. As I write the breeze is coming through the open door and caressing my arms and legs and causing me to stop and acknowledge the need to drink in the grace that my soul requires at this very moment.

A week long silent retreat earlier this year comes to mind - it was such a balance of stillness and motion, sitting and walking, quiet and tears. It was a beautiful blend of stillness and motion that opened my heart to experience God with healing and tenderness.

Today I seek time to sit and wait and move forward into places of motion that bring greater stillness to my soul.

“Call us, O Beloved, to spaces of solitude, and times to befriend the Silence.”
From Psalm 106, Psalms for Praying

Morning Invitations in the Quiet Spaces

An invitation from Jesus to get intimate with life:
“You’re blessed when you get your inside world - your mind and heart - put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.” Matthew 5.8



An invitation to reality and thereby transformation:
“If you view reality from the standpoint of others, then we’ll experience complete conversion, namely, inner and outer transformation. We will have ‘turned around’ and that is the biblical meaning of metanoia.”
Simplicity by Richard Rohr, pg 99

An invitation to prayer:
"Prayer is freedom and affirmation growing out of nothingness into love. Prayer is the flowering of our inmost freedom in response to the Word of God."
Thomas Merton. Contemplation in A World of Action (New York: Doubleday & Company, 1973: 345

An invitation into the Mystery:
“For, the Spirit is the One who makes all things new,
And ever awaits our ‘yes’ to the Dance!
Those who offer themselves freely, without reserve,
Are guided through life‘s rough paths.
Light beckons to light; divine dignity
Adorns them in holy array.
The Promise holds true forever, to all generations!
As Companions of the Most High, come!
Claim your home in the Universal Heart.”
Psalm 110, Psalms for Praying, Nan Merrill

These gentle invitations on this particular day in my life pilgrimage seemed significant. And, like the colours and wonder of summer, the invitation to life more deeply, to the Mystery and Holy Presence, I am drawn to their gentle beckoning and embrace.

Circle me, Lord.

Keep peace within, keep harm without.

Circle me, Lord.

Keep love within, keep hate without.

Celtic Prayer

Thoughts From Merton

The message of God's mercy to man must be preached. The word of truth must be proclaimed. No one can deny this. But there are not a few who are beginning to feel the futility of adding more words to the constant flood of language that pours meaninglessly over everybody, everywhere, from morning to night. For language to have meaning there must be intervals of silence somewhere, to divide word from word and utterance from utterance. He who retires into silence does not necessarily hate language. Perhaps it is love and respect for language which imposes silence upon him. For the mercy of God is not heard in words unless it is heard, both before and after the words are spoken, in silence.

Thomas Merton. Disputed Questions (New York: Farrar Straus & Giroux, 1965): 195.

Morning Meditation

A gentle rain as daylight arrives

leaving prints upon the stately tulip

Soaking in silence, listening for the sounds of this day

from the soft deep chair

Lady Wisdom leaving whispered writings upon the soul

Etchings on all living things

Colours of life

Breath of God

the wonder of Holy Presence

ordinary space that becomes Sacred

an ordinary moment that is transformed by Mystery.

Her Presence in the Waiting

Places of waiting can be lonely; can feel as if you have entered a time capsule where the relativity of life around you has ceased to be a place you interact with. Yet as one holds that, you also hold the fact that places of waiting call you to remain alive, be very present, and to become more deeply aware of what is happening in the immediate and allow every level of your being to open to seeking what this time is speaking to you and risking the unknown to find something important on this pilgrimage that is one’s own life. Or could it be risking finding Who waits there with us?
When I have found myself in really tough spaces in life it has so often been my women friends who have come alongside me, who listen, who don’t seek to give the answers, but wait with me and their tender nurturing is very comforting. In the weeks of waiting in several hospitals, waiting for my husband to go through various treatments, so often sinking into Holy Presence was the way to stay breathing, to keep going, to know that we would all get through this.
She was there waiting and ready to listen. I was surprised to find Her there – traditionally, out of long habit when I speak to the Almighty it is the male presence yet this time it was so distinctly female, so definitely the company of a woman friend, a woman heart that came and joined me! The Lover presence, the Beloved, Abba, Lady Wisdom – They have all come to keep me company and show me Holy Wisdom in this pilgrimage that I walk. But there in the hospital room it was the nurturing company of Mother God’s heart who waited for me to share my fears of losing my husband way too soon, my fears that he would have some massive haemorrhage and never be the same again, my fatigue at trying to stay strong and positive with the unknowns, and the reality that all of this was overwhelming to me. Feminine God to feminine heart and soul we sat together, and I found peace, found a taste of freedom that comes in the dark places and experienced the Mother heart of God as I have never known it before. It was Her wisdom that encouraged me to keep hope that all would be well, that perfect love cannot sit with fear.
We are all made in the image of Them – yet never before have I seen and experienced the Mother heart of God so beautifully. It was a new way to see the Divine image in my own being as in love I tried to give tender care to my husband. Hard places of waiting must also be places of image bearing, image revealing.

Wisdom abides in deep recesses of the heart; who is at home to receive Her?
O friends, do not hide from Her grace; silent be, listen well as She bestows inspiration to lighten your way, to guide you on life’s pathway.
Recognize and follow the unique gifts given unto you; remain steadfast with Wisdom at your side.
Those who hear and heed the inner promptings of their heart, become attuned to the Universal Song.

Lumen Christi...Holy Wisdom
Pg 9 Lumen Christi, Nan Merrill

Becoming "Copeless"

The following article is from the introduction to the book The Wisdom of Wilderness, a book by Gerald G May, with the introduction written by Parker Palmer. I found this piece of "wisdom" to speak to embracing hard places, being in that place and being fully present.

"For Jerry, contemplative psychology takes us 'beyond all coping' to a place where we need not resist the difficult emotions of life but can become one with them, which helps become one with ourselves. Looking back on his early psychiatric practice, he (Gerald/Jerry May) criticized himself for spending too much time helping people 'cope' with their difficulties:
I have come to hate that word, because to cope with something you have to separate yourself from it. You make it your antagonist, your enemy. Like management, coping is a taming word, sometimes even a warfare word. Wild, untamed emotions are full of life-spirit, vibrant with the energy of being. They don't have to be acted out, but neither do they need to be tamed. They are part of our inner wilderness; they can be just what they are. God save me from coping. God help me join, not separate. Help me be with and in, not apart from. Show me the way to savouring, not controlling. Dear God, hear my prayer: make me forever copeless."

Pg XIII/XIV The Wisdom of Wilderness

Gently Rocked to Sleep

At last - a day of warmth, gentle breezes, and the opportunity to put the hammock up. The fatigue that permeates my body, mind and heart is gently lulled into sleep, restorative rest and the wind rocks me back and forth as my body is cradled in this woven bed hung between the trees out in the garden.

The gentle outward rocking by the wind corresponded to the tender cradling of my spirit by the Almighty in the warmth of Light that is perfect peace.

Waiting In The Hard Places

With many changes in life in the past year, good changes, changes that challenge, there has not been as much space to sit in silence. Silence – that Holy Presence that invites one to sit, to wait, to listen, to be, and to know God. Silence which holds the space where the Spirit waits with her tenderness and wisdom, without condemnation or judgement, offering room for that gentle voice that brings Truth.

When the opportunity came for a week long Silent Retreat I was eager to sign up. My expectation was of a week in silence and maybe some gathering with the group for a short time in the morning and perhaps some time in the evening after dinner. Arriving slightly late on Bowen Island, due to the ferry running behind schedule, it meant rushing into the first gathering and the first session of Centering Prayer. The only seat available was a hard wooden chair – only 3 people had hard chairs while 13 had soft comfortable seats.

Between the schedule for the week, which involved 4 centering prayer sessions each day, and this hard chair, it felt like I had come to the wrong place! Where was my time to be totally alone for most of the day and to sit curled up in a soft enveloping chair to wait in Silence for the Spirit to come and bring her words of wisdom? Why did it have to be in a hard chair that I learned more of Centering Prayer? This dining room style chair of beautiful honey wood, with arm rests and a curved back, spindles that dug into my spine if I slouched, that gave no room for change. The first few days the prayer time was a place where I felt as if I was suffocating, and panic swirled within me and there was nothing soft to retreat into where I sat. This was not the calm inviting space I had yearned for it to be –it was a hard place to be for even the first 20 minutes of Centering Prayer, let alone another three 20 minute times consecutively!

Over the week I came to realize that this hard chair was indeed where the Spirit would sit with me, encouraging me to stop, and to simply listen to the sounds of the moment, where my soul could be opened to Holy Presence by waiting through the panic. Soul care was the theme of this time and the questions I had held out before going were being answered. Walking alone the raw tears flowed as the reasons for my own inner anxiety were shown to me and I gave the Spirit permission to show me more. This chair would not allow me to sink into the comfort of habit, but instead invited me to embrace waiting in the hard places and staying present to hear the beautiful sounds that have a language without words – birds, the wind, the sound of breathing, people passing quietly. I began to find the softness of sacred space, of Holy Presence sitting in that hard place.

With only one day left in this beautiful week I looked out on the glorious sunny day. A gentle knock at my bedroom door brought the message that my husband had been taken to hospital. Breaking my silence I phoned and got the details and ran to catch the ferry that I could see coming into dock.

Over the next 2 weeks sitting and waiting was all I could do as my beloved, David, was rushed to our local hospital and then a few days later he was airlifted out to a huge hospital in Vancouver where experienced vascular surgeons and radiologists could deal with the large blood clots in his legs, abdomen and lungs. Waiting room chairs where my attention wandered and my thoughts had to constantly be pulled back from the worst case scenarios as |I waited with David’s daughter and son-in-law. How often I came back to that safe place with the word, my sacred word, from Centering Prayer that reminded me to stay present, to stay in that moment with Them in Holy Presence.

David is home now and moving slowly but unable to go up the stairs to our bedroom. Last night I lay on the floor on a makeshift bed of chair cushions, listening to him sleep on the sofa. Waiting in the hard places is not over, but today I have a soft chair to relax into and the hard places that come again will call me back to that hard chair, and the Word, the whisper to the Almighty when it is essential to stay very present. My soft chair makes me think of how now I can exhale, and breathe easier as I consider how to live and move in this one moment, this hour, this day, with the hard places and the soft places, and the sounds of Holy Presence that are ever constant.

Waiting in hard places is an invitation, an embrace, and without a doubt a place where Love and the Beloved provide the softness for the heart to wait.

Journeying Quotation

To journey without being changed is to be a nomad.

To change without journeying is to be a chameleon.

To journey and be transformed by the journey is to be a pilgrim.


Mark Nepo
pg 76, Living The Questions

Chapters with Titles But Never Labels

She wandered out of the library, swaying from side to side, swinging her legs out in a rocking motion that allows her to navigate in spite of the stiffness and fragility of her body. The smile on her face gave evidence to her delight at finding a new book to read. “Don’t you feel excited to have a library, a real library here where you can get books any time you like?” she said. Her laboured breathing gave evidence to how hard it can be to walk as she moved into the great room to settle into the oversized couch with her new find.

Chapters to be Read – titles but no labels - this is who we are. How long each book of life will be is not determined by us, nor can we fully know (or want to know) what future chapters our biography will hold. What we can know, embrace, and hold in the Light are the chapters that have already been written. Recently in a Passover Seder Supper, we were reminded that when we dipped the parsley in the salt water, it is the tears and bitter parts of our journey that have moved us across rivers, over mountains and brought us to the degree of freedom our soul can live in today. All are chapters in our book.

Yet perhaps too often we label a person and soon it becomes like a neon sign flashing before us. We walk by, negating the truth that labels are not how Jesus really sees any of us. Love, God’s love, invites us to see each book of life, each named book that is the life of another or ourselves, as a rich treasure to be held, read slowly and with honor. Each chapter that is shared holds pieces of our lives but it is not the whole. Titles may be given to each section or season lived but they are not labels that define who we are.

Our friend sitting reading her book came from a community in Vancouver that has been “labeled” as one of the poorest in our country, with one of the highest rates of HIV/AIDS per capita. Other friends live in areas with some of the highest property values in our country and perhaps some will label them as well. At Linwood House Ministries we believe that labels do not fit us as human beings at all. Each of us are an amazing book continually being written into by the Almighty, by our own soul journey, and by all those who pass through our day. There are so many wonderful chapters, all titled but none wear labels – not now, not ever.

Warmed By The Fire

It is very spring like now but the mornings are still quite cool and the morning air in the house feels cold. The wood stove is the sole source of heat in our little house where it nestles embraced by trees and quietness. As the wood caught flame and heat began to radiate out from the little stove I appreciated being able to warm myself by the fire. As the heat spread through the room and I began to be warmed again after leaving the comfort of a fluffy duvet and my husbands’ warm body next to mine, there was such a sense of joy at this simple and elemental wonder of roaring fire.

For years those words “warming himself by the fire” have been repeated, referring to a feisty tempered man who is remembered for trying to deny his friendship, in the toughest moment, with Jesus. Sitting by the fire to be warmed held a negative connotation. Fireside time is often very much a part of friendship.

A warm fire is a kind of hospitality in its own way - an invitation to come closer, to linger, to find nurture and healing there. Sometimes the fire draws us to sit together and animated conversation results or perhaps it is to enjoy the gentle sounds of its own music while we read a book. Often in the winter the fire has been the only sound and only light as I waited for the new day to be born and bring its light to the sky and into the house.

The fire is like the hospitality - it is for stranger and friend to find warmth, nurture and comfort. The heat that is radiated goes more than skin deep. It works towards the core of our being. Perhaps the warm fire and the invitation to dine open up the bigger story of our lives and work at revealing the threads that both stranger and friends weave into our story. Like the dining room table it invites us simply to be, to breathe, to be present and take in what the moment has offered us.

As I write it is late afternoon and I sit working by the fire letting it warm me on the cool cloudy spring day. Sigh…it is so soothing to be warmed this way and I am so enjoying simply sitting by the fire. There are surely deeper meanings to this thought of being warmed by the fire but for now I shall simply enjoy it for what it gives. That is joy for this moment.

Gentle Invitations

There is nothing like a surprise invitation to dine or spend time with a person who is gentle and wise and the conversation brings hope, laughter and life. Surprises like this open the windows of the soul with a most tender drawing back of our reserve and timidity, letting us experience the Light of Holy Presence.

When we walk into Sacred Space with purpose and intent, at least for me, I come with expectancy, with a desire to wait and see what will be shown and experienced. There is an intangible aroma that, like the air being filled with the scent of cooking onions, hints that there is much more to come and your appetite is awakened.

Using the illustrations of food comes easiest for me as that is my medium of art. I have been thinking much about how sacred space invites us to more than the banquet table of feasting and sharing – it invites us to make choices, to choosing what is good, what is healthy, what honors and gives respect. We are also, it seems, invited into the mystery of God. Perhaps that is why the scent of food is an illustration that gives the idea – the mystery of something being prepared but not all the ingredients are in the scent that fills the air! We wonder, we seek, we yearn, and we want to know more, while at the same time we simply wish to sink into this moment of sacredness, of experiencing the Almighty with our senses.

When our friends from Vancouver’s Downtown Eastside (DTES) come to visit us the effect of this space of beauty and sacredness we call Linwood House (Linwood House Ministries) is startling. When a meal of tasty combinations of meat, potatoes/and or rice, vegetables, and salads that are an abundant mixture of fresh greens and textures are laid, there is a choice made (probably unconsciously) for more of the healthy ingredients. Is it just the contrast between the colourless, flavourless, starchy, processed food that is served in the downtown community (and I have stayed down there for a week and eaten this food), or is it that Sacred Space (and the presence of the Almighty), tenderly extends the invitation to choose the healthy ingredients?

Living in a community that exists on survival mode leaves one constantly watchful, self protecting, in the “fight or flight” mode – an energy sapping life-style indeed. After several visits to Linwood House, our friends from the DTES begin to offer gentleness to each other, to let their guard down and their suspiciousness changes to an openness that is magnificently endearing.

So what else does Sacred Space invite us to? Does it go beyond our relationships with each other to respect for creation, our environment, and our neighbour who we are asked to love as well as we love ourselves? Does not Sacred Space invite us with constant whispers to learn to love who we are and our own story?

What are the surprise invitations that you have experienced in Sacred Space? Who have you met when you responded to these gentle openings of your heart? Every invitation I have responded to (and sometimes I have ignored the invitation) has revealed something of beauty and also created a deeper space for Holy Wisdom and the Mystery to live in my soul.

The following words, pieces of Psalm 90 in the translation Praying the Psalms by Nan Merrill, seem to beautifully hold out an invitation to Sacred Space and to what it offers those who accept.

“You gather those who love You as friends returning from a long journey, giving rest to their souls.
You anoint them with the balm of understanding, healing wounds of the past.
For our days on Earth are a mystery, a searching for You, a yearning for the great Mystery to make itself known.
The years pass and soon the Harvest is at hand, a time to reap the fruit of one’s life.
Who has lived with integrity?
Who will reflect the Light?
Who can bear the radiant beams of Love?

…Teach us, O Beloved, to honor each day that we may have a heart of wisdom.”

Thoughts on Open Heart, Alive Senses, Peace

Recently my husband D and I were at the Thomas Merton Society "Conference for Peace - non-violence". John Dear, SJ was the main speaker for this event.

While it was focused on non-violence, peace, and how as Christians we are called to be peace-makers, my thoughts continued to focus on the fact that we cannot be peacemakers, work at non-violence effectively unless we begin to look at the internal war, the internal violence we inflict upon ourselves so regularly!

Jesus said "Blessed are the peace makers" or as it is translated in The Message (Matthew 5:8)

"You're blessed when you get your inside world - your mind and heart -
put right. Then you can see God in the outside world."

This translation by Eugene Peterson seems to point toward the fact that peacemakers have an internal peace, an internal home, an internal place of freedom and comfort for the Spirit with much room, and then they can not only see God in the outside world, but they begin to be God in the world around them.

So this then has triggered for me the connection to internal peace and living with our senses alive - to taste, see, hear, smell, touch life around us and within us!

This morning I read from Seeds, Thomas Merton passages and find the connection to my thoughts expanding.

"One of the most important - and most neglected - elements in the beginnings of the interior life is the ability to respond to reality, to see the value and the beauty in ordinary things, to come alive to the splendor that is all around us in the creatures of God. We do not see these things because we have withdrawn from them. In a way we have to. In modern life our senses are so constantly bombarded with stimulation from every side that unless we developed a kind of protective insensibility we would go crazy trying to respond to all the advertisements at the same time!

The first step in the interior life, nowadays, is not, as some might imagine, learning NOT to see and taste and hear and feel things. On the contrary, what we must do is begin by unlearning our wrong ways of seeing, tasting, feeling, and so forth, and acquire a few of the right ones.

For asceticism is not merely a matter of renouncing television, cigarettes and gin. Before we can begin to be ascetics, we first have to learn to see life as if it were something more than a hypnotizing telecast. And we must be able to taste something besides tobacco and alcohol: we must perhaps even be able to taste these luxuries themselves as if they too were good.

How can our conscience tell us whether or not we are renouncing things unless it first tells us that how to use them properly? For renunciation is not an end in itself: it helps us to use things better. It helps us to give them away. If reality revolts us, if we merely turn away from it in digust, to whom shall we sacrifice it? How shall we consecrate it? How shall we make of it a gift to God and to men?"
(NM 33-34)from page 15, Seeds

I cannot help but see how my quest to bring my own senses alive is connected to many other levels of how Jesus has asked me to live. I cannot help but ask today how does a culinary minister be a carrier of life and be a peace maker as I interact with those who come to the sacred table? How do I hold life within my wombless body, how do I not do violence to my own soul in order to allow the peace and powerful presence of the Spirit to bring colour, flavour, scent, texture, taste, hope and wonder to the table where meals are shared?

Tending to the restoration of my own sensuality, embracing that I am so, on my own individually, and letting my heart and soul continue to dance in a vibrant way, a renewed and restored way is one important factor to seek. Perhaps this is a key to this year's pilgrimage theme - no longer going to war with my own self.

Holy Mystery, Community, Solitude

The old words “there is a time and place for everything” come as I write the above words. Who determines that time and place and whether it is good, wise, acceptable and life giving?

“Holy Mystery” is a place that my soul seeks for rest, for learning, for embrace, to come more deeply into relationship with the Almighty. One writer speaks of peoples reaction to one of Jesus healing miracles, life back from death stories: “They all realized they were in a place of holy mystery, that God was at work among them. They were quietly worshipful…” Luke 7:16 The Message

This experience of Holy Mystery was in community, or rather in a group place which isn’t necessarily community.

Holy Mystery is an experience that, for me personally, comes more often in solitude, in the cathedral God first gave us - Creation. Where the awe and intricacy of creation, the majesty of nature and the humbling knowledge that this goes so far beyond what one can see, touch, taste, hear, smell, experience from where I stand.. Being surrounded by love yet unable to express how deep and authentic it feels in this place deepens how mysterious living really is.

Good Friday is the day of mourning for Christians, when Jesus was crucified and the world went dark. Many gather in community to sit together with this truth and remember this part of Jesus journey.

I have not been able to understand why, for me, these events are much more deeply meaningful when I remain in solitude. A friend was sharing how they struggled with guilt at choosing solitude on Easter morning instead of community. Solitude presented the gift of experiencing Holy Mystery - Holy Presence that is unexplainable yet continues to call out to the soul for endless pursuit.

|On Good Friday my husband went off to the mid-day service at church and I remained at home. The day was sunny with a gentle wind and the spring air was inviting. I ventured out, rake in hand, to clear up old leaves around the labyrinth and on the path that meanders through our property. Soon this quiet slow task became a holy task, caring for this sacred ground we call home, where others can come for a contemplative meditative walk - our labyrinth. The old leaves are colourless and heavy yet when they are gathered up and heaped in the compost pile fresh new life, tender colours of new growth are waiting within the ground to be revealed and breathe again. Death is heavy and colourless - life is full of colour and absolutely longs to breathe and be visible again! In this solitudinal task, removing death to find life, my tears began to come for reasons I cannot explain, except that I held my face to the Light, up to the gentle wind, to acknowledge Holy Presence and to listen for the gentle teaching of the Spirit as I worked. The deep wind chimes gave out their throaty melody and all nature seemed to be gently sighing in its own way at the acknowledgement of spring after winter, life out of death, and Light that comes through the darkness. It was a place of holy mystery, the Almighty was present and at work and I felt my whole being come alive with quiet worship.

God is present in our community spaces and God is present in our solitude space and each hold space for the Holy Mystery, Holy Presence to be explored and for us to pursue what this looks like in our lives. Life out of death, spring out of winter, light out of darkness, melodies out of wailing, Holy Presence in the midst of its mystery.

Being Salt, Growing Life

A little over a year ago my friend, visiting from across the country, brought me these gifts - a jar of yeast and a jar of salt (which has since been used so you see a packet instead). She had no idea why she bought them yet knew it was necessary. I had no idea why she gave them yet I knew there was a message they would show me and then remind me of constantly. Salt is a preservative and a seasoning, while yeast is what allows the bread to rise and be voluminous and become comfort food we so often seek.

Yet, what did these two ingredients have to do with loving to cook, loving to invite others to dine at the old antique table, and sacredness that belongs to this individuals' pilgrimage?

We have become part of a new book club and the first get together was at our home. The antique table that makes such a statement in this little house in the woods, was spread out, all 3 leaves added to it and 10 of us were seated there. Once the table is spread out it fills just about all of our dining/living room area! Over the course of 4 hours food was consumed, wine was poured, all the while seasoned with animated conversation that ranged from areas of justice, environmental concerns to each person being asked, and answering the question “how did your parents influence the direction of your life in the high school years and were they involved in the decisions you made? Where they supportive of what you chose to do?”.

In the holding of the question and the answering that came thoughtfully and at times painfully, one could hear pieces of another’s’ sacred and precious life journey. The table once again became the sacred space that held the salt of seasoning and the grains of healing journeys. Animated conversation was woven with hushed speaking when deeply personal moments were laid before this new group. The salt could be tasted in each story, and as in the Seder Supper tradition, the salt water with bitter herbs is a reminder of the tears of the journey. There was much symbolic salt in our evening.

As the guests left and we cleared up the dishes, as I stood alone at the sink late in the evening washing the wine glasses and pondering, I thought of the spaces, empty spaces in many of our lives where we long for this kind of intimate dialogue yet rarely find it. The places where we could love, grow and experience the comfort this affords us, almost like the symbolic comfort food that bread is. Where the yeast has done its work to provide the necessary working to bring us this light, sustaining, food of comfort and life - the bread of life which is an essential for us to live. Safe places to verbalize ideas, to be seen and heard and honoured are a kind of bread of life to the soul and spirit. They are the places that Holy Presence comes with fragrance, salt and yeast.

The Sacred Table must always hold space for the salt of healing, seasoning and preservation (holding with honor and giving dignity) as well as the yeast the provides the necessary combination and action to give us the comfort food, this bread of life that comes in surprising ways to feed us. How each person will taste or see it will be unique to where they are, but if it is an essential piece of the ritual of dining there will be an effect.

Psalm 92

O Merciful and Just Watcher, you take your place in the divine council;
in the realm of conscience, You make yourself known.

You give due warning to those in power:
"How long will you rule with injustice and oppress the poor?
Act with integrity toward the weak and the unfortunate;
maintain the rights of the afflicted and the destitute.
Assist the needy and reverence all people's freedom;
deliver them from the hand of the oppressor."

Arise! Awaken to the new dawn!
Come into the Light, shed darkness like skin on the snake!
For the foundations of the cosmos are shaking with injustice.

I say, "Within you dwells the Beloved, the Breath of your breath;
Open your heart in the Silence and know the One in the many."

Arise! Join in the new creation!
Let harmony reign among all the nations!

from Psalms for Praying, Nan C Merrill

Ponderings from Richard Rohr

"We've got to know that what Jesus is talking about, first and foremost, is how do you enter into the real now. Jesus gives us real eyes to realize where the Real lies.".
Pg 39

"Remember this: There are always two worlds. The world as it operates is power; the world as it should be is love. The secret of Kingdom life is how can you live in both - simultaneaously. The world as it is will always be built on power, ego and success. Yet we also must keep our eyes intently on the world as it should be- what Jesus calls the Reign of God. Power apart from love leads to brutality; but love that does not engage with power is mere sentimentality. A lot of Christians today are still trapped in one or the other."
Pg 41

Quotes from Jesus' Plan for a New World, Richard Rohr.

Create us anew O God...

Create us anew O God

Create us not novel but new

From the reminders of our dreams
Create a new hope O God

From the ashes of our failures
Create a new spirit O God

From the castoffs of our words
Create a new song O God

From the crutches of our lives
Create a new dance O God

From the leftovers of our loves
Create a new heart O God

From the pieces of our lives
Recreate us O God

Hover over our darkness and depths

Create us once again as on the first day of Creation.

Mary Jo Leddy

Do not care
overly much for
wealth, or power, or fame,
or one day you will meet someone
who cares for none of these things,
and you realize
how poor you have become.
Rudyard Kipling

Three Hundred and Sixty Five Days

Living life one day at a time

Just one day

And then the next

And the next

January 11, 2007 I went to lunch with someone I had never met before but a friend introduced us – it was a blind date.

January 11, 2008 I had lunch with this “someone” who I have spent the last 365 days getting to know.

Just one day at a time: living, laughing, learning, holding space for tears and for learning with the man who has been my husband for the last four months. My heart is learning to expand giving sacred space to this new kind of loving, giving, and receiving.

I just still am in awe of living one day at a time, over the last 365, and how much life has changed and how much I love this amazing man I had lunch with not so long ago!