In my last post, I mentioned mindfulness.  It’s a buzzword these days.  Just be mindful, and all will be well.  That would be like me saying to live every day simply.  In an unapologetically Buddhist way, mindfulness is that easy and that difficult, just as living life simply is.  Read that as you will.

Only you know what is most important in your life.  Only you know what requires your attention and most feeds your soul; they aren’t often the same thing, and we all know it changes on a daily, if not hourly basis.

But if, in a moment, you can be where you are, at once embracing it yet with open arms and feeling everything fully without being overwhelmed, then you can do what needs to be done with clarity.  You can make a conscious choice, knowing what is the best thing to do in that moment.  This is our best work, or our work at its best.  With this clarity and sense of purpose, there is a profound freedom to be experienced.  There is a sense of participating in the flow of life.

I am more than a little amused at all the self-help books out there, the variety of techniques that aim to bring us to a sense of peace.  Each of us could write our own book.  Those of us who write, indeed, write mostly for and to ourselves, for that’s all we truly know.  At the core of it all, though, is the one flow of life, one peace, one good, and that’s what ties us together.  That’s what, when we write, we hope to tap into, sharing a truth that might resonate for others.

Again, only you know what you need.  First you have to be conscious.  You have to be honest.  Then you keep practicing and keep working hard.  We work hard to be, just be, in peace.  This is good work.

(photo from everystockphoto.com)

Since I’ve heard the story of Mary’s anunciation at least three times this month, it rings loudly in my ears.  It could be that last year all my ears could hear was the “holy s**t!” factor Mary must have felt, the “you-want-me-to-do-what?”  This year, however, I was given the opportunity to truly listen to the story, and like doing deep dream work, I was able to close my eyes and enter the story, the scene, the characters, and the energy present on that holy night.

I could feel the dry desert air in Mary’s mouth, in my mouth, the sandy breeze.  I could feel the weight of the day but the relief that comes when all that can be done is done, and it’s time to rest.  There’s stillness and a quiet acceptance of what is.  Then there’s this overwhelming encounter with an angel?  Could that be what that was?  Did anyone else see?  Did anyone else hear?  Could the racing of my heart be betraying me?  Have I not just heard a commission from God through one of His glorious angels?  Didn’t I just accept the call to be a mother to the child of God, me a young innocent?  The curious look from a neighbor makes me question, but my heart assures me it is true.  True, also, was the look of awe, sympathy, and adoration on the face of the angel, in his voice.  Returning to the stillness of the night, it was like a dream, but now my life is changed forever more.  I cannot know the depth of this responsibility, what it might fully entail.  I just know that in the moment, in the presence of what is Holy, I knew I could make no other choice, for “Here am I . . . servant to the Lord.”

Then I realize that the anunciation of Mary is quite similar to our own stories when we are answering a call that aligns with God’s will.  Often it comes to us when we least expect it, when we are still and accepting of the present.  But it could be when things seem most in chaos.  When we hear that tumultuous stirring in our hearts, experience the ecstatic joy of co-creating with God, we know we are where we are meant to be.  What comes down the road, we may not know, but we continue in faith and trust and hope.  Most importantly, we continue in Love.

I don’t know anyone personally who has had the clarity of purpose as Mary, through an angel’s visit.  If you’re like me, you would welcome an angel’s visit telling you what to do, what God wants you to do.  But it seems even as it seems harder to hear God’s voice these days, God’s trust in us is just as present, if not moreso.  God seems to trust each of us that Jesus was enough to teach us how to be in relationship not only with each other but with God as well.  And example after example in the Bible shows us people, servants to the Lord, who are simply present, hear a call and respond, “Here am I.”

May we be that strong, that trusting, that faithful.  May the joy of the season inspire us.

Clarity in this life can be elusive.  That seems only natural when the air around us is filled with unseen signals sending digital and analog information, with noise from earbuds and/or automobiles, with smells of burning oil — to name a few of our distractions.  Sit with this busy, distracted image for a bit.  How do you feel?

Now go to your cabin in the woods.  Smell the mountaintop air.  Hear the wind through the trees.  Sit in the darkness lit only by the crackling fire.  Hold the warm beverage in your hands.  Welcome a friend to sit near you.  Listen to her share her soul.  Let your heart open.  Speak your own truths.  Experience laughter.  Shed tears.  Sit in silence, together.

After the Holy Listening retreat I had the honor to experience this past weekend, of one thing I am quite sure.  As a child of God, one purpose of my life here is that I am here to live in the present moment with an honest, open heart.  Above all things, I am to love.  This seems only natural when sitting by the fire in the quiet of the evening.  I can almost feel that two friends together are not alone.  Even when sitting by myself, I do not feel alone.  The presence of Spirit is strong, almost palpable.

Even returning to the daily round, nothing changes but my own perception.  If I can cut through the chatter of our society, let alone the chatter in my own mind, the stillness, the clarity is ever-present.  My purpose hasn’t changed.  Spirit hasn’t disappeared.

I have a feeling this is something we all have in common.

Many thanks to my German friend for introducing my family to the advent calendar even before we fully embraced the tradition.  This year, however, I came up with something each day for the children to do before they get their daily treat.  Sundays are busy for us, so I decided to make use of the Christmas cookie sheet molds I received as a gift and make tasty sugar cookies as a treat for all.

Advent is a season of waiting, of preparation.  I also think it’s a time of excitement, merriment to be spent with family and friends, not without consideration of those in need.  Of course, I encourage you to make your own list, but to jump-start your brainstorm, here’s our list, some names removed.

May your December start with a heaping of kindness.

1. Do a kindness for a sibling.

2. Donate clothes to shelter.

3. Send a letter to a friend.

1. Make sure the house is especially clean.

2. Be kind to your Dad.

1. Happy St. Nicholas Day!!!

2. Make cards for teachers.

3. Do a chore not on your list.

4. Help Mom prepare Christmas cards.

5. Draw a picture for a grandparent.

6. Spend 5 minutes in prayer before school.

7. Give thanks outdoors! Play outside if you can.

8. Enjoy your cookie!

9. Call Grandma and Uncle.

10. Mark cards for a nursing home.

11. Call Grandma and Uncle.

12. Call Grandpa and Papa.

13. Call Nana&Papa and Cousin.

14. Call Godparents.

15. Enjoy your cookie!

16. Get thank-you notes ready.

17. Spend 30 minutes in prayer.

18. Do something kind for Alexander; it is his birthday.

19. Help Mom in the kitchen.

20. Merry Christmas! Rejoice!

-Mark 13:1-8

This past Sunday evening, I realized I hadn’t fully listened to the Gospel during the morning church service.  My lapse in memory baffled me.  Others were talking about how unpleasant a reading it was, but I had no recollection, no point of reference.  Could it have been that bad?

Ah, end of times talk.  All the buildings will fall.  Earthquakes.  Famines.  My husband saw the title of this post and asked me if it was about aikido.  No, not that.

But what if it’s not mainstream apocalyptic thought.  Jesus mentions that all this earth-shattering, darkness, foundational collapse “is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”  Now birth I can relate to, and I was listening during the service.  What I hadn’t heard was a negative message, one of destruction.  I heard about a fundamental shift, a promise of a new paradigm, a re-birth.  I heard what had to happen for God’s dream to be realized.

As an active participant in the Servant Leadership School, I’m familiar with the talk about how our authority-driven model is not sustainable, is grounded in fear.  To live into God’s will, God’s dream, would be to assume the servant role, to serve one’s self and others with unconditional love, compassion, to participate in communion.  The servant is in the receptive posture, vulnerable yet open to receive divine guidance, to channel God’s love.  It’s one thing to know this and quite another to practice it.

To live one’s life open to the Divine requires a new way of thinking, of being.  Throw down the walls that bind.  There is no ground upon which to stand.  The fruit of your labors might not be in sight and the path narrow and difficult.  The only sustenance you have is your Faith and a Love that surpasses all understanding.  This living is the active birthing.

The child to be born is God’s dream.  The light at the end of the tunnel is no other than the Light that illumines all.  Jesus knew this.  He lived it.  He was It.  And we, in our sheltered, self-centered lives are still rooted in fear and have yet to take the leap of faith into Faith.  If we could but live rooted in Love, we could get a glimpse of our lives as God sees them.  We could tap into the infinite potential written into our souls.

We just have to let all our illusions fall away, surrender to Love, and live what is real, what is here.  Now.  This is our practice.

Many of my friends knew about the “bowl project” I volunteered my husband and myself for.  In short, Rev. Peggy Bosmyer, the first Episcopal woman priest in Arkansas (and the first west of the Mississippi), died last year of cancer, being only 60 years old.  As Episcopal Church Women, we wanted to do something special for her in memoriam.  We’ll do something larger at Camp Mitchell, but we also wanted to do something unique and personal . . . something special.

Thus, the bowls.

Peggy adopted a practice inspired by the Benedictines.  The story is that she herself had a pottery bowl she kept by the front door.  To remind herself of her Baptismal vows, she would cross herself with the water from the bowl before she would leave the house, and she would bless her children, too.  Others were inspired from her sharing of this practice.

The bowls were made . . . somewhere around 70 of them . . . by Casey and me.  I trimmed and stamped them with a leaf.  Some of my friends helped me paint on the glaze.  Rev. Marti Dalby blessed the bowls at our ECW Fall Gathering on October 24th at Camp Mitchell.

The remaining bowls went back to St. Margaret’s, Peggy’s church.  I kept one of the blessed bowls for myself and my family.  It sits on a table near the front of the house, one of our altar tables.  Now I, too, am reminded of my Baptismal vows, in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.  Amen.

I went to The Magnetic Church Conference because when I first read about it in our diocesan communication, it struck me as interesting, something important.  Our priests were willing to send me, and I ended up making the solo trip, the alone time not unwelcome.

The conference is about evangelism.  I’m Episcopalian.  The two E-words usually do not go together in casual conversation, not without a shudder, anyway.  The Episcopal Church is about welcoming, but we’re not so much into going out and collecting.  Apparently, we’re not great fishers.

But this is what the conference told us.  Re-think the way we view evangelism.  It’s not some salesman on t.v. with a bad comb-over, promising everything your heart desires if only you choose to live his path . . . and send him money.  For Christianity, our evangelism is in loving one another, “inviting people along the path and sharing the feast.”  It is best exemplified in radical hospitality and compassion.  And we went on to spend many hours talking about how a church might do this.  There were many laughs at our own and at our Church’s expense.

My personal test, however, lies within the principle of “inviting” others along the path.  I have an “all paths lead to God” kind of mentality, spirituality, whatever you want to call it.  What our speaker called “ecumenical mush” with apparent distaste, I don’t so much have a problem with.  Some people need more tradition than others, more frame work to make sense of the great Mystery.  I like the traditions, the liturgy, but I don’t have to have them.  It’s like having a beautifully illustrated book.  One doesn’t have to have the pictures.  Indeed, we don’t have to have a book at all.*  The Mystery exists whether we name it or not.  But it helps us, we mere humans, to work at this Mystery, to share what we have discovered on our way.  Each of us  — whether unchurched, lay, or ordained — has insights to the Truth of the Mystery.  Our lives are enriched in the sharing of these Truths.  Of course, we are human in our own right.  We only have one perspective in any given lifetime, and our understanding is thus limited.

My test?  Keeping my focus on what I feel is True.  I have to keep in mind that my view of God through the colored glass is different from others’, whether they be across the street or on the other side of the world.  My evangelism isn’t so much limited to the Episcopal religion as it is to the experience of the Divine.  I choose the Anglican Church as home for my spirit because it feeds me deeply and encourages my walk in faith, constantly providing nourishment for my journey.  But daily life is the test.  How do I embody Christ’s love to others.  How do I embody God to others?  How do I embody Spirit to others?  Is this not the cross that Christians bear?

Our free will tells us that we choose how we live our lives.  Sometimes, though, I feel more chosen than the chooser.  Truly, I don’t have to take up the cross.  For me, though, that’s like not smiling at a stranger, not comforting the crying child, not loving those in pain.  When you have a gift, it’s best enjoyed when shared.

Perhaps one of my greatest gifts is Love, and I choose to share that with you, no matter what you call it or how you experience it.  You choose whether or not to receive, but that doesn’t change the presence of the Love that is there, patient, kind, and never-ending.

*I’m not saying we don’t have to have the Bible.  I am saying that Christ lived and practiced what we call “Christianity” without a name, without a Bible.

Yesterday, our sermon at church focused on Paul admitting his weaknesses.  We were reminded that it is most often in our weakest moments that we are gifted with an unforeseeable strength, a great wisdom beyond our own being.

Mass media doesn’t follow this line of thinking.  If people are weak, it’s usually because they’re ignorant or strung out or because they’re in a third-world country and need our financial support.  Either way, it’s in our “best” interest if we keep doing what we’re doing to get better, faster, more and then give a little bit of what we’ve gained, if we choose to.

There’s no doubt in my mind that there are some serious changes that need to happen in our way of thinking and doing.  How about we change the mind-set to realizing that people who are weak are so because they either prohibit themselves from seeing the potential within or they have been so abused in this life mentally, physically, and/or emotionally, that they cannot see the good inherent within.  Inner-city or rural America to poorest of the poor third-world country, we are human.  We have been gifted with life, free will and potential.

Some of us do have more resources than others, but throwing money at situations hasn’t proven to be most beneficial.  Lynn Twist in The Soul of Money points out that during her time working with The Hunger Project, the best outcomes came when the people in a tribe or community were given an audience, able to share their own ideas on how to fix a problem (as in how to best obtain a water supply) and then given help to obtain the resources to make their vision a reality.  The people had accountability and responsibility in the outcome.  They did not become addicts to handouts, further debilitated by a lack of sense of self-worth.

Blessed are the weak?  Yes.  We are all weak.  We all need to experience and face our weaknesses.  Only when our egos are weakened can we realize that our strength is not ours alone.  When we can surrender to that which is greater than we ever imagined, can we tap into true potential.  When we are truly weak and honest, we can reach out for help, with humility, but hopefully also with a determination to particiapte with and through that strength I like to call Spirit.  In the best of circumstances, there are others who are also participating in the Spirit, and we can experience the work of the collective.

Blessed are the weak?  Yes.  It is the weak who actually have the opportunity to realize how truly strong they are, if only they surrender long enough to see it, to hear it.  And if the weak are to survive, they have to be seen and heard by others who also know Truth.

To have just one life seems an awful waste of resources, and if our souls are eternal, wouldn’t that make heaven an awfully crowded space?  No one thinks of the New York subway at rush hour traffic on the other side of the pearly gates.

My husband and I have diverse interests, but I don’t think I could list all of our hobbies or to-do-wish-list on my fingers and toes.  Reincarnation offers me the solace that even if I don’t get to do something in this life, then I’ve either already done it in the past and enjoyed it so much I wanted to do it again, or I will get another chance down the road.

But that doesn’t mean I can or should live this life with reckless abandon or numbing apathy.  After all, I do want to move forward or higher in the next life.  To do so, my humble take is that I need to live as fully in compassion and wholeness as possible.  What does this mean?  I need to live balanced, engaged, passionately, compassionately, and honestly.  I need to take some of the contemplative practices to heart, listen to the wisdom gained and live with a happy heart, doing that which brings joy to myself and good to others.  Can life be so simple?  Of course, but we always have the option to screw it up, plug in our own selfish desires, put others down and not listen to our true heart of hearts.

It’s simple, but not easy.  Even if we know what we might be called to do in this one life, it might only complicate things.  Things might be going one direction, and we receive a detour.  Why? we might ask.  Maybe we’re ready for something new.  Maybe we’ve received the wisdom we need to make it on the new path.

Just because this is one life doesn’t mean we’ll always just be doing one thing.  I think most any mother will tell you she is definitely a Mother, probably a Wife, too, but she could be called something else as well.  Director.  Artist.  Midwife.  Philanthropist.  Social Justice Worker.  CEO.  Teacher.  Priest.  Nurse.  The list inevitably goes on and on.

What do you choose in this one life?  Will you leave a leagacy behind you?  The way I see it, if we leave a legacy of love, especially with our children, then we have lived this life well.

I’ve mentioned before some tools for the spiritual journey.  Though I focus on spirituality, there’s no intent to alienate one from using these tools to get centered, feel focused and be grounded.  Contemplation is most often associated with spirituality, but that’s not all.  According to Merriam-Webster:

Contemplation:  1 a: concentration on spiritual things as a form of private devotion b: a state of mystical awareness of God’s being 2: an act of considering with attention : study 3: the act of regarding steadily 4: intention, expectation

A friend and former teacher posted a link on his Facebook page that led to this wonderful Tree of Contemplative Practices* by The Center for Contemplative Mind in Society, a result of a survey as part of research from 2001-2004.

I pass this along that it might enrich your life, open up new doors of opportunity for you.  Maybe you already have your favorites but would like to add another facet to your experience.  Are you doing any movement?  Don’t be afraid to try something new.  If you want to know who you are, what you really think, these practices can help you find the truth.

*If you choose to share this image with others, please follow the term of use, as this s a copyrighted image.