a little poem and meditation

come the ink unto the pen

come the pen unto the page

flow, flow the thoughts

words to thought doth flow like ink to pen doth write

okay, okay,  put the top on the pen next time

it’s like what meditation does for one  when I leave the top off my pen and the nib dries up and I can’t write  when you leave your mind uncovered because you don’t meditate and your soul dries up

Feeling less than

It’s dangerous to go it alone in spiritual matters.  Good advice from an old friend.   My grandmother used to talk about people stewing in their own juices and that is just what happens to me when I become my own spiritual director.  An awful strange brew is the result.

This  happens  from time to time.  My attention to the matter is finally captured when I realize that the free-floating anxiety and nameless dread, which accompany my particular brand of self direction, are back.   Time to get some proper direction, to run things by another person,  a good guide along the path with experience both coming and going.

Speaking freely to another who is unsentimental and disinterested,  who is neither judge nor therapist,  is a great boon at this point.  Patterns are revealed, motivations exposed, burdens unconsciously carried lifted.  I feel a great sense of relief.

Making progress in the spiritual life requires regular work.  When I rest too long on previous gains they evaporate.  Seeing a spiritual director, making my confession, keeping faith with  tried and true practices–this is my work.  Then my meditations, recitations of the Divine Offices, participation in the Eucharist, and sense of community are imbued with the joy and gratitude upon which I truly rely.

For me these days, nothing less will do.

Simplicity first

Reflections upon one of Sr. Claire Joy’s Lenten meditations have been bouncing around inside my head for the last week.  She simply suggests that a simple act now is an investment in the future and I am simply stunned!

I first read Thoreau at age sixteen and thought then that simplifying my life sounded like a good idea.  That was forty-two years ago.  Evidently I think simplifying is something I’ll get to after all the complicated stuff is finished.  Then I’ll have the time.

But now I realize that simply letting go of a tangled thought, with its attendant complicating emotions leading to inevitable and  inexplicable behaviors, starts a little chain reaction of letting go.  More and more letting go opens up a space inside where things like serenity, kindness and gratitude arise.

Each hour lived out in a peaceful manner gives way to another one just like it–like proceeds from like.  Letting go is fairly simple, not easy perhaps, but surely worth the investment.

Thanks Sr. Claire Joy.

Love story

Yesterday, variously known as the Last Sunday in Epiphany, Transfiguration Sunday,  Valentine’s Day (or  Single Awareness Day as one wag would have it), we sisters were privileged to have four couples at our table for brunch following Eucharist.  Two are married, one engaged, and the youngest couple have been keeping each other’s company for a few months now.   One sister, in a truly inspired moment,  asked each couple to tell the story of their first meeting.  Oh, how we were charmed, delighted, and moved by four stories of blooming love–perfect Valentine’s Day fare.

As the stories unfolded I found myself hearing the “through line”, the similarity, in each one–there was an instant, when one or both, knew this was it and then could not and would not let go of the notion, not for the life of them.   That one shining moment when we see and hear clearly the vision and voice of love.  It is like recognition–this feels like home the heart says.

Not unlike sisters’ own response to that instant when the religious life presents itself  clear and bright as a bell.  Stepping across the threshold of the convent for the first time and knowing I was home felt like love to me.

It is a good thing, says the Psalmist, to proclaim your love in the morning.  How serendipitous to celebrate  Valentine’s Day on Sunday–a love fest through and through.

The Burning Ones

Last Sunday I preached to our little congregation in our little chapel.  A small group to be sure, but a discriminating bunch.  They received my sermon well and I appreciate them for that.   I talked about the different “calls” that Isaiah, Paul, and Simon Peter received and accepted from God and how they were alike and how they were different.  I also talked about our own calls from God and how we mostly don’t think they are of the same order as the three just mentioned.  But, it ain’t necessarily so–I think all calls to us human beings are of the same order but maybe not of the same magnitude.

But it would be a pretty tall order to get a call like Isaiah’s.  All the stops were out on that one.  The throne, the robe, the live coals, the smoke, and the Seraphs.  I got hung up for quite awhile thinking about the Seraphs.  I learned from the footnotes in The Inclusive Bible that Seraphs literally means “burning ones”.   Because I have a mental image of the great flaring forth of the Universe in the first instant being a flash of heat and light, I thought “well, there are the Seraphs”.

When the first-born of all creation is the Word, then the second-born, the next generation,  are those burning ones.  The burning power of their heat and light is still with us as one event of creation  gives way to the next in the never-ending, seamless flow of being.  Their power to proclaim the glory of God does not diminish and they are forever praising God with a “Holy, Holy, Holy” that shouts the universal, eternal victory of heat and light.  The Burning Ones… still burning after all these years.

My first blog post…

In the world of firsts I suppose my first blog post ain’t all that … however, I am looking forward to using this space as an opportunity to sharpen my writing and thinking skills, communicate with you out there some of what goes on inside here  and just generally add my two cents worth to the great melange.

I am the only resident on the third floor of the convent.  My hope is that two candidates will join me, sooner rather than too much later.  It is a lovely luxury right now to have so much space to myself.  I potter around when not actually in my cell or office, making simple preparations for new sisters.  Part of me thinks, “If I build it, they will come”.

Or, I work in my office, mostly at the computer, attending to correspondence, research, or administrative duties.  But, there’s also my books, my prie-dieu, and the view.  Believe me the ponderability quotient is astronomical with these three in play.  So this is where the blog posts will come from…my mind, not on drugs, but on the third floor.  To me it is a wonderful combination of tower, cell, and vehicle.

Greetings from the third floor…