Contemplation

"The early Franciscans said the first Bible was not the written Bible, but creation itself, the cosmos. 'Ever since the creation of the world, God's eternal power and divinity--however invisible--have become visible for the mind to see in all the things that God has made' (Romans 1:20). This is surely true; but you have to sit still in it for a while, observe it, and love it without trying to rearrange it by thinking you can fully understand it. This combination of observation along with love--not with resistance, judgment, analysis, or labeling--just observation with love and reverence, is probably the best definition of contemplation I can give. You simply participate in what one Carmelite described as a long loving look at the real."

~Fr. Richard Rohr, Daily Meditation of Center for Action and Contemplation

 

For years now I've said that I learn the most about God by observing nature.  The seasons teach me about death and new life, patience and joy.  The rising and setting sun remind me that the sun always comes up, even in the darkest of times, even when hidden behind a cloud, I know that the warmth of God's love is here- always.  I hear God in the rustling sound of wind as it gently blows through the leaves of a tree, in the sound of the owl hooting outside my window or a mourning dove's haunting serenade.  I see God in the beauty of flowers planted neatly in a garden and wild flowers that find a way to push through a crack in the concrete.  I feel God's love when the sun warms my shoulders, when a gentle breeze hits my face on a hot summer's day. 

 

Everyday living is so full and demanding that it leaves little time to be still.  We are bombarded with sound and movement.  Our monkey brains are moving so fast that we scarcely know what is happening around us.  The most important things go unnoticed while the things with no eternal value get all of our attention.  This is why the annual Michigan trip is so important to me.  My husband and I stay in a little cabin on Central Lake situated amongst cedar trees a few feet from the lake where our Bass Tracker boat is docked.  Each morning, we eat a quick breakfast and take our boat out fishing until noon.  I spend a lot of the time reading a good book, holding my rod with a little curly tail grub lure attached (my favorite is the sparkly chartreuse one!) sitting perched in my seat in the back of the boat.  We fish until noon, spend the afternoon hiking, biking, sight-seeing and just relaxing then we're back at it from abut 5:00 to dusk. 

 

Today's meditation put the power of that time into words.  We literally "sit still in it for a while, observe it, and love it without trying to rearrange it by thinking you can fully understand it. This combination of observation along with love--not with resistance, judgment, analysis, or labeling--just observation with love and reverence, is probably the best definition of contemplation I can give. You simply participate in what one Carmelite described as a long loving look at the real."

No Holding Back

"I believe in all that has never yet been spoken.
I want to free what waits within me
so that what no one has dared to wish for
may for once spring clear
without my contriving.
If this is arrogant, God, forgive me,
but this is what I need to say.
May what I do flow from me like a river,
no forcing and no holding back,
the way it is with children.
Then in these swelling and ebbing currents,
these deepening tides moving out, returning,
I will sing you as no one ever has,
streaming through widening channels
in the open sea."
~Rilke's Book of Hours; Love Poems to God

In 1988 I was living in Marietta, Georgia.  I had spent the last 15 years in a marriage that was anything but supportive and fulfilling.  In fact, in retrospect that relationship had never been built on mutual love and respect.  We were married a year and a half when my first child and only son was born.  We were both over the moon in love with our sweet little boy but our relationship was painful and weak, not solid and true like I dreamt marriage would be.  By the time Jeremy was 2 1/2 years, we added 2 beautiful baby girls to our family- Erin and Lauren, born 14 months apart.  My three babies were the light of my life.  I focused my heart and prayers on becoming the "perfect" wife and mother- surely this was God's desire for me; surely God would "honor" my prayer for a loving Christian family! 

We had been living in Georgia for 2 years.  A lot changed in those short years.  I remember driving down the street in my minivan on a warm sunny day when I looked up and caught site of a soaring hawk.  What a site!  I immediately felt connected to that giant bird with outstretched wings floating effortlessly through the sky- so beautiful and strong.  In my soul, there rose up a Yes!, a That's It!  I realized that I had been working for so many years at being the "right" woman, the woman I thought I should be; it required a lot of effort- the opposite of no forcing and no holding back.  I was 33 years old and wishing that life would hurry up and get over with already.  I was exhausted... tired of working so hard to be someone other than Becky.  But, gazing upward at that majestic powerful bird, I knew in an instant that I must stop the desperation and somehow learn to Live life freely.

Without realizing it, in that moment, my world shifted on its axis and I would never be the same.  I couldn't keep damming up my emotions; I couldn't keep avoiding the truth of our broken marriage and wounded family.  My contriving (prayer/begging God/years of counseling/contorting myself) would not, could not change the reality of the mess that was my marriage- not at all the holy union of souls that I had dared to wish for.  I soon had the revelation that I had done enough.  I told my husband, "If you cannot accept me and love me as I am, I will have to leave.  I deserve to be treated as well as I treat you.  I'm not perfect but I am good enough to be loved."  It was another year and a half before I filed for divorce.  There were still stubborn roots of guilt and fear, vestiges of my old beliefs that held me back but once the dam started to crumble and the waters began streaming through, there was no stopping the flow of Life.

Today, nearly 30 years later, I continue to learn to free what waits within me, springing clear and flowing like a river, streaming through widening channels...
Amen
 

Our Heliotropism

"We turn toward love like sunflowers 
and then the human parts kick in."
~Anne Lamont

Toward the end of our European trip, we rode the tour bus to France.  I remember gazing out the window as we road down a long stretch of country road when all at once there were sunflowers as far as the eye could see; rows upon rows of enormous golden sunflowers.  This glorious site went on for what seemed like miles.  The sunflowers were at least 10 feet tall and every one of them was turned to face the morning sun; soaking in the rays and at the same time giving off radiate light back toward the heavens.  I was in awe!  A photograph could never truly capture the beauty of that field of sunflowers.  That site captured my idea of Heaven- full of radiant light, always reflecting Love.

Heaven is where I want to live... all the time.  That creates a dilemma for me.  I have used the resources I have to process the attack and rebuild my life.  Mainly, I've looked for the beauty and Love in this world.  I've called upon God to "show me the love in it all."  Like a giant sunflower, I've turned my heart toward the light and it has shown brightly.  The problem is not looking for the light, no, the problem is allowing myself to see the darkness.  There is always sundown, a good portion of every day is in darkness.  It is the way of this world- light and darkness, good and evil, beauty and the unlovely- they co-exist and are part of the whole.  That is where the human parts kick in.

"You can live in the light and still walk through the darkness when that's what this Life requires."
~Amy Frankl

These were the words offered by my counselor recently.  This image instantly struck a cord and opened my mind to a deep truth.  Living in the Light and walking through the darkness.  These words teach me to allow the All of life to be as it is- I don't have to "rosy it up" to be okay.  This idea comforts me and guides me through my fear of the dark.  I am learning to allow my vision to adjust to the darkness, I will see what needs to be revealed and trust that the light is still there.  Funny how long it has taken me to be open to this truth.  I've been afraid to allow myself to experience the darkness in this world, afraid that if I allowed myself to go there I might never find my way out.  What I've learned is quite the opposite, if I don't allow myself to go there by feeling my own demons of fear and anger and seeing the demons in others, I will keep on running.  I will be haunted and dreading what might be lurking in the shadows. 
From the moment that Bill held me down as I fought so hard to get away.  From that moment to this, I have felt overpowered by him.  I've sought inner peace; I've looked to forgive him.  I was desperate to get my Life back.  I've looked for the Love and the Beauty in it all.  And, I can tell you it is there.  But, "then the human parts kick in" I continue to struggle with heartache, fear and dread- dreading the day when he would be released from prison- and wondering how could I handle that? 
And, now that dreaded day has arrived.  Bill has been released to "transitional correction" until his parole date of May 15, 2016.  My emotions have overwhelmed me, ranging from terror to rage and feeling utterly powerless.  In the midst of it all, I (finally) allowed myself to fall into the dark pit of despair.  I cried and cried and cried some more.  I opened the dreaded plastic bin with all the newspaper clippings and documents I have refused to look at for years- Bill's confession, the police reports, the sentencing court report, the civil court report and divorce decree to name a few.  I let myself look at all of them and feel the horror and sorrow of it all.  I was overcome, literally, and couldn't function- I felt myself about to faint if I stood up, my head hurt so badly I couldn't sit upright, I couldn't eat because I was so nauseous that I knew it wouldn't stay down.  I fell apart.  It was days later before I realized that I was walking through the darkness that day- Life required it.  I cannot move on until I allow the brutal truth of that horrific event to be seen and felt. 
Here is the amazing part, since that day of reckoning, I have slowly felt peace creeping into my soul- not because I have willed it to be so, just because it is so.  It started with a deep feeling of exhaustion- as if there was no fight left- but slowly it began to feel like rest for my soul.  I have never seen the movie, Waiting to Exhale, but I keep thinking about that title.  For nearly 12 years, I've been waiting to exhale- finally, I can stop holding my breath.

"I surrender myself to everything.  I love, I feel pain, I struggle.  The world seems to me wider than the mind, my heart a dark and almighty mystery."
~Nikos Kazantzakis (author of Zorba the Greek)