Uncategorized – Page 2 – Spirit Reflections

Welcome, Welcome

March 28, 2022

If you have never wanted to control a person or fix a situation, if you have never wanted to step in and take over because you knew your way was best, if you have never tossed and turned in the night because of worry, then raise your hand. That’s what I thought. As humans, we all want some degree of power and we all want to be in control of our lives. Our many cultures teach us that power and control are the ultimate achievements. But are they? Or are they simply illusions that control us?

Today, O Lord, I yield myself to You.
May Your will be my delight today.
May You have perfect sway in me.
May your love be the pattern of my living.

In these forty days before Easter, this Lenten season, I have been sharing my journey about practicing (practicing being the operative word) surrender and acceptance. Today’s blog explores a Christian form of contemplative prayer called The Welcoming Prayer. Contemplative prayer is often wordless prayer where, instead of dictating our desires to God (power and control?), we surrender our own voices and open ourselves to the work of the Spirit in our hearts: “For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words” (Romans 8:26).

The Welcoming Prayer is a prayer of surrender and acceptance, two behaviors quite countercultural in today’s world. Surrender is the act of moving ourselves aside; acceptance is being receptive to what is. This prayer is a prayer of relinquishment, of letting go of what we so often hold tightly. It is not an easy prayer.

I surrender to You my hopes, my dreams, my ambitions.
Do with them what You will, when You will, as You will.

The first step in The Welcoming Prayer is to settle ourselves quietly and “welcome” the Spirit, or the Christ, or God, or Allah, or the Buddha, or Nature, or whatever is we believe is the source of Divine Love. Our first surrender is this: I relinquish my desire for power and control. Welcome, welcome, welcome. Then we sit in the silence for a few minutes, surrendering everything or everyone we are trying to control and releasing where we are fighting for power over others. We let it all go, and welcome in its place Love. This is not an easy prayer.

I place into Your loving care my family, my friends, my future.
Care for them with a care that I can never give.

For the last four years, my adult daughter has walked through fire. Her journey has included a toxic work environment where she was emotionally and verbally harassed, a divorce, a job change that took her across the country during the worst days of the pandemic, working remotely over a year in a city where she knew no one, and now dealing with an immature and jealous co-worker who is undermining her work. I cannot count the number of times I have wanted to tell her “what do to” or how she “should” respond or what other courses of action she could take. I have tossed and turned with worry over her. I have wanted to fly to be with her and fix her problems. But . . . I . . . cannot. Her journey is her journey, and I, while I will always be present to her, have to relinquish (surrender) my desire for power and control (as if those will make everything all right, anyway), and accept that this is where she is right now. I have to take myself out of the equation in order to give space to Divine Love to show me how to respond with love, wisdom, and care. This relationship is simply one example of the many situations in which I crave control and power, yet I know that that craving is not leading me where I want to be spiritually. Control and power do not make me a gift to this world.

I release into Your hands my need to control, my craving for status, my fear of obscurity.

Seeking to relinquish power and control and “fixing” is not the same as being apathetic, uncaring, or giving up. It is, instead, an acquiescence that God is God and I am not, that in reality, I am powerless over everything except how I choose to respond in this life.

Eradicate the evil, purify the good, and establish Your Kingdom on earth.
For Jesus’ sake, Amen.

The prayer which I have quoted here is the Prayer of Relinquishment composed by the Quaker theologian and spiritual author and teacher, Richard Foster. It is not an easy prayer, yet it is a prayer for a more loving and peaceful world. Welcome, welcome, welcome.

Walking with you ~ Rosemary

A Way to Be: Taking Action

March 18, 2022

“Fate of Hundreds Unknown: Missiles Hit City in Ukraine’s West”

“13 Year Old Boy Drives Truck into Van, Killing Nine People in Texas”

“Powerful Storms Could Bring Tornadoes To the Southeast (USA)”

“An International Agency Warns About a Global Energy Crisis”

“If you know how to make good use of the mud, you can grow beautiful lotuses. If you know how to make good use of suffering, you can produce happiness.” Thich Nhat Hanh

These headlines are just a sample of what I, and you, awoke to this morning. They are enough to make us head for the nearest cliff, or weep, or drink. Nothing seems fair, especially since we were just beginning to breathe again as Covid seems to take a step back. How, then, do we live?

This Lent, I have been trying to practice the three tenets of Zen Peacemaking as a way to grow in my own spirituality and do something meaningful for myself and for the world, since my actions- and yours- impact others. The first two tenets are Not Knowing and Bearing Witness, which I discussed in the previous two blogs. The third is Taking Action, the kind of action that arises from practicing not knowing and bearing witness.

So often we do not know what will happen next. If the last two years have taught us anything, surely the pandemic and war have proven how little we know about what is around the next corner. It is anyone’s guess. Christ knew that. It is why he so often spoke about the need to “stay awake” and pay attention to this moment, this day. Most spiritual leaders make that same demand because all we can be sure of is what is happening here, now. The challenge is how we will choose to respond to each moment.

So when the next thing does happen- a pandemic, war, terminal illness, lost job, death of a loved one, broken dream-how will we respond? As the second tenet invites, we bear witness to all our feelings and consciously choose which ones we will “feed.” Hopefully, the feelings we choose will lead to the third tenet: taking action in a compassionate way.

In an anxious and tired world, these three Zen tenets can lead to meaningful responses instead of violent reactions in any situation. If we want to change in any spiritual way, choosing to act from our hearts, from the seat of the Loving Divine, in a way that heals and comforts, is surely essential. Judgment, rigidity, self-righteousness, and violence are all contrary actions to caring from the heart, with compassion.

Sometimes the action we take is simply to continue to practice not knowing and bearing witness. Or perhaps the action we take is doing the daily things life calls us to from a place of peace, calm, and gratitude, avoiding all the noise of those who know no other way. Or maybe we speak out in the face of injustices. Our actions reflect who we are; they impact the world, a world that desperately needs care.

Walking with you~ Rosemary

Women Folding

Across the world, she pulls
crisp white dresses from a rope
suspended above baked mud,
her saffron turban wrapping her hair
on a windless hot day
while she folds each dress
with strong dark hands, her fingers
smoothing each crease in a longing
for Sabbath and hope.

Somewhere north, she picks up shirts
scattered like toys across a bedroom floor,
buttons them carefully, then folds them,
placing them in a drawer, her soft hand lingering
a moment on the collar while she remembers
her son as a child, wishing him love.

And to her east, she dries the last teacup
and folds the frayed dish towel
hanging it evenly over the empty bowl
before turning off the light, her long day
complete, her action a trust.

West of her, where bombs and missiles shatter peace,
she sits in a subway tunnel, sewing a button
on the jacket her brother is not there to wear
before folding each sleeve, along with her fear,
into place as she settles to wait.

Folding, folding, eons of folding,
creases smoothed,
squares, rectangles, triangles a way
of life, a way to life, a folding
that encompasses some sense
of order, a resistance to chaos,
an answer to not knowing,
an action, a prayer,
this ritual of a woman’s care.

Image credit: Pixabay

A Way to Be

March 2, 2022

In the Christian tradition, today, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of the six-week period called Lent and is a day to ponder our own mortality. Considering the last two years of perpetual Lent co-existing with the pandemic, it seems sometimes that pondering our own mortality is all we have been doing. And now, with the war in Ukraine and the possibility of that war extending throughout Europe and even beyond, Ash Wednesday feels redundant. We get it. We are all going to die. Besides that, what can we really do about any of these trials and tribulations?

I have been pondering that question, and the answer I have received is twofold: I can continue to create, and I can continue to pray. I have read several bloggers recently who lament that they cannot write their stories, poems, essays because of the weight of this current darkness. Yes, it is difficult because there are no words that can make any sense out of war. Further, does what we write even matter? But what I hear is, “Keep writing anyway.” Keep creating because creating is an act of life. Keep offering whatever it is you have to offer because the rest of us need to witness that faithful resilience.

And I also hear “Keep praying.” I admit that prayer is tricky and that I sometimes wonder if prayer “works,” but “works” is a human term, not a spiritual one. Prayer is an admission, or humble realization, that there is indeed something/someone larger, more infinite, more caring than any of us can ever be. However we choose to pray, prayer grounds us, roots us, in each other and in God (by whatever name we each call God) and in this crazed, white-water world, I need grounding. I need to know I am not alone.

So, on this first day of Lent, when so many of us are tired, frightened, or at a loss for words, I offer a prayer. God breathed God’s name with the two-syllable word “Yahweh.” The country we currently hold in our hearts has a two-syllable name, Ukraine. I breathe in “Yah” and breathe out “weh.” I breathe in “U” and breathe out “Kraine.” I trust that the One Who is Bigger than Us will fill in the blanks.

I honestly do not know what else to do except to be, and “being” includes, for me, creating and praying. I remind myself that the word Lent comes for an old Germanic word meaning “spring,” and with spring come new life and hope. Winter cannot last forever.

“Being” with you this Lent ~ Rosemary

Morning Prayer

And this is prayer:
The black cat perched
on my lap this new morning
silky fur against one hand
the weight and aroma of the coffee mug
in the other
as we two creatures gaze
at Spring’s emerald leaves
clapping together
in the early breeze.
Only yesterday, it seems,
bare branches alone reached heavenward
but today hickory and elm wear veils of green
in praise before the Creator.
The cat purrs,
I lift my palms,
both offering our amen.

When You Choose War

When You Choose War

. . . you cannot stop
the Lenten rose’s pale white blossoms
from unfurling
nor can you command
the pink-tinged buds of tulip trees
to fold inward.
When you choose war, know that
the grass still greens in spring,
the titmouse seeks its “peter-peter,”
the black and white cat curls herself
in the dust-moted spill of sun.
When war is your choice, prepare yourself
for deep-souled words that fall from pens
in rivers of black, for multi-colored
hues to unveil themselves like dreams
across acres of blank canvas
for fresh music to lift and scatter
like so many blackbirds
across a sky so bright you will
shield your eyes.
When you choose war, no matter
your imagined power, you cannot
shroud the human spirit
you cannot even destroy love
and loyalty
and while you may—indeed—conceive
tears, never can you thwart
whispered prayers
from ascending in legions
toward all that is more eternal
than you.

The Return Trip

February 2, 2022

Counting Coats

“If you have two coats, give one to someone who doesn’t have any.”” Luke 3:11

I consider the number of coats
I own. More than two.
Seven? Eight? Ten?
Not all coats, of course.
Some are jackets
a pink fleece
a purple raincoat.
In the checkout lane
the woman in a wind-thin
blue sweater
fumbles with food stamps
to pay for three packages
of cheap hot dogs,
a dollar short.
I turn to search
for a faster aisle
then stop and notice
the loaf of fresh bread
a bottle of good wine
that I am holding.
I pay for her hot dogs.
She turns her plain face
to me and blesses me–
not just me
but also my family
those I love.
When she leaves,
the clerk says
I’ve done something
wonderful.
I am grateful
no one is behind
me to hear her.
I blush, hurry,
leave
with a loaf of fresh bread
a bottle of good wine
and a blessing
held in the hollows
of my heart.

Ever forgotten something at the grocery store, something that couldn’t wait, and so you had to circle back and make a second trip? I found myself in that annoying situation a couple of weeks ago, grumbling to myself about the inconvenience and waste of time as I headed back. As it turns out, though, I was meant to make this second trip.

I quickly nabbed the forgotten item, along with a bottle of wine (my condolence prize) and got in the checkout aisle. In front of me, a woman was fumbling in her purse, trying to come up with another dollar to pay for three packages of no-brand hot dogs. The charge was $6, and she was short the amount. I noticed the aisle next to me was empty, and I almost moved there, when I looked at my own purchase—a loaf of freshly baked sourdough bread and a good bottle of Chardonnay. The woman in front of me was now explaining that since it was near the end of the month, she was short on food stamps and was trying to make them stretch over the next couple of days, counting on cheap hot dogs to feed her and perhaps others. She was about to settle on two packs when I offered to pay for all three. She gratefully accepted.

I don’t tell this story to brag. Six dollars is not much to me. I am no hero. I tell this story because this woman then turned and blessed me. She offered a blessing for me and for those I love, for health and well-being, when she obviously needed that blessing, herself. After she left, as I paid for my own items, the clerk told me I had done a wonderful thing. No, I hadn’t. I had done a human thing.

Whether you believe in God, Destiny, Fate, Karma, whatever, I believe I was sent back to that store to receive this woman’s blessing—not a blessing, be clear, that I deserved—but a gift of grace. I think of her from time to time for she has become a kind of role model of humility and graciousness for me, and I whisper the blessing back to her.

Blessings to each of you, wherever you find yourselves. ~ Rosemary

Photo credit: Pixabay

Don’t Let the Light Go Out

January 6, 2022

“Pointing to another world will never stop vice among us; shedding light over this world can alone help us.” Walt Whitman

In the Christian tradition, January 6 marks the Feast of the Epiphany, the moment that the Christ-Child was recognized by those beyond his small world and so made universal. Astrologers, we are told, followed a star that led them to the home where the Light was alive. Their gifts not only identified him (gold for a king) and frankincense (incense for a priest) but also prophesied the shadows in his future: myrrh, an embalming ointment, symbolizing his death.

“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” Desmond Tutu

In tragic irony, January 6, 2021, was the date chosen by those who planned and carried out the assault on the Capitol Building of the United States of America. It was the bleakest day of my life, and the images are seared in my mind as much as those of the crumbling twin towers. This assault came from within, from hatred and anger. This assault shattered my naive belief in the “united” states and threatened the gift and privilege of democracy while also marring a feast day that I have celebrated since a child, a feast day of Light.

“An age is called ‘dark’ not because the light fails to shine but because people refuse to see it.” James Michener

On social media, a woman commented recently that we should forget the assault, ignore its anniversary, because it overshadows both Epiphany and her husband’s birthday. “Overshadowing” is exactly why we need to remember January 6, 2021 because we continue to be overshadowed by lies, deceit, conspiracies, hate, and violence. We need the Light, however and whoever we perceive it to be, in the darkness of this present time where the King Herods of the world are intent on destroying anything or anyone that threatens their power. We need to be the light.

“Light. Light. The visible reminder of Invisible Light.” T.S. Elliot

The only action I know to take this day of solemn, sorrowful, and painful remembrance and this day of recognizing joy, light, and love in our world is to light candles, everywhere I can, to pay homage to the Light, to recommit myself to it, to light whatever candle of truth, peace, justice that may dwell within me.

“Light your candles quietly, such candles as you possess, wherever you are.” Alfred Delp

I had researched several more quotations about light to include in this blog, but instead will leave with this link to an old, and so relevant, song by Peter, Paul, and Mary: Light One Candle. Their words speak much more eloquently than mine: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LTRfVnygo1U

Light one candle for all we believe in
That anger not tear us apart
And light one candle to find us together
With peace as the song in our hearts

May it be so. Blessings ~ Rosemary

Photo by Ian Hutchinson on Unsplash

2022: Yes!

January 1, 2022

“For all that has been, thank you. For all that is to come, yes!” ~ Dag Hammarskjöld

This morning, on the dawn of another new year, it is challenging to say “thank you” for all that has been, especially over these last two years. How do we say “thank you” for an ongoing global pandemic, riotous politics and social upheavals, dissension and violence, lost jobs and opportunities, catastrophic natural disasters, a wounded and dying planet? To say those two words requires a certain boldness; to find some kind of meaning in the midst of all of the turbulence requires a theology in something—or someone—larger than us. For me, I am thankful to be alive. I am thankful that my loved ones have thus far survived. I am thankful that I realize that these blessings have nothing to do with me but with gift, gratis, grace from whatever name we choose for Universe/God/Other.

While saying “thank you” may be difficult, saying “Yes!” to 2022 may even be more demanding, may even require a bit of ledge-stepping. Someone recently posted on Facebook that 2022 is pronounced “2020, too.” What a dismal thought! Yet, not impossible. To get to the yes takes some courage, along with, again, boldness. An artist friend of mine defined being “bold” as: “Bold to ask for what you truly want. Bold to share your humble art. It’s not linear but exponential blessings- pressed down, shaken together and running over!” Yes!

We’ve all been at a place in our lives where what we had thought would be wasn’t. Disappointment is one of the first realities we experience. It is so often easier to grieve over what didn’t happen, to take our toys and go home, or to envy the lives of others, rather than to accept our own lives, our own situations and choices, as they are, where we are, where God is. Now. This acceptance is not passive or a type of giving up; it is a challenge to accept those things that cannot be changed, while also an invitation to embrace the life that is ours and make something of it. “Yes” is an action word.

So, I am looking 2022 in the eye and declaring a resounding YES! My “humble art” includes this blog and my poetry. Others may be/are better, more successful, more published. My handful of followers may be few, but I say “yes” to each precious one of them: yes to showing up, yes to creating, yes to sharing, yes to being thankful for them, yes to this unique life that is mine. Imagine a world full of YES. I hope that you will add the power of your “yes” to mine.

Blessings for health, peace, and joy in 2022! ~ Rosemary

New Year 2022

Birds gather at the feeder
on this heavy dismal New Year’s
Day, the sky a swath of leaden
gray: black-capped chickadee,
peach-breasted titmouse, sleek-headed
nuthatch, fat red finch, ladder-backed
woodpecker, even a curious
mourning dove hopeful for
spilled seed. The cardinal,
a scarlet flame against the sullen
sky, nudges each one aside
as he claims his kingdom.
From time to time, a red-tailed
hawk with eager eye glides
over the leafless trees
taking stock
and the flock scatters
in a flash of wings,
only to return, one at a time,
to perch on a slick branch
each awaiting its turn
for the black-polished seed,
its resolute “yes” to life,
my “yes” as well.

Photo credit: Pixabay

O Antiphons ~ Emmanuel

December 23, 2021

O Emmanuel, you are our king and judge, the one whom the peoples await and their Savior. O come and save us, Lord, our God.

Two days before Christmas, in this Advent season of waiting and longing, the seventh, and final, name for the Christ (or Light, or Love, if you prefer) proclaimed in the ancient prayer-song of the O Antiphons is found in Isaiah 7:14: Therefore the Lord himself shall give you a sign. Behold a virgin shall conceive, and bear a son and his name shall be called Emmanuel.

Emmanuel: “God with us.” Of the four stories of the Christ, the good news of the gospels, Matthew and Luke are the two evangelists that include the birth story, and their telling is quite different from each other. In Matthew’s narrative, “God with us” comes in the midst of a Roman occupation with an unwanted male infant that King Herod tries to kill and so must be hidden. “God with us” occurs in dreams that lead Joseph to take his family to Egypt and wisemen to disobey Herod’s orders and “go another way.” Jesus, the Christ, becomes “God with us” as the new Moses who will lead God’s people not out of Egypt but out of themselves and into the Light.

For Luke, “God with us” appears to the least likely—to an old woman and a teenaged girl, second class citizens, and to shepherds, third class citizens, made unclean by Jewish standards because of their care of dirty animals. “God with us” is the one who walks among the least of us, the poor and powerless, and surprises the faithful and long-waiting, Simeon and Anna. “God with us” meets us exactly where we are, as we are, with love and compassion, mercy and longing. “God with us” means we are never again alone.

Prayer: O Emmanuel, as the day of your birth draws close, help us to be still enough to receive you. Whenever we see a candle burn, a light on a tree sparkle, outside decorations glow, let us take those sights as reminders of your Light and Love upon us and upon everyone. Guide us out of ourselves and toward you, and help us to be Light-bearers to those who live in darkness, those who need to know both peace and joy. You are with us and within us, and so we can rejoice, even now. May it be so.

O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

If you would like to listen to this prayer-song, here is a link to the artist Lauren Daigle’s version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGw0QK6ICZA.

Blessings of joy and peace to you. ~ Rosemary

Photo credit Pixabay

O Antiphons ~ King of Nations

December 22, 2021

O King of Nations, whom all the peoples desire, you are the cornerstone which makes all one. O come and deliver the creature you fashioned from the dust of the earth.

Three days before the birth of the Light, in the O Antiphons, the ancient prayer-song of waiting and expectation, the sixth title given to the Christ (or Light, or Love, if you prefer) is King of Nations, based on the prophecy found in Isaiah 2:4: He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.

Here is the title for Christ/Light/Love with which I most struggle because Jesus, whoever we believe him to be, never asked to be a king. Born in humble surroundings to a teenaged blue collar girl in the midst of an occupied country, Jesus demonstrated that same humbleness his entire life. Whenever people expected him to be king, to wage war, to conquer the Romans, to lift up sword, he did exactly the opposite. Whenever people wanted to name him king, he always pointed above to God, never to himself. Because he would not succumb to the lure and power of being an earthly king, he was crucified.

As I ponder the kingship of Jesus this Advent, I realize that Christians worldwide, often including myself, have taken the easier road of putting Jesus on a throne and worshiping him as king rather than accepting his invitation to follow him in servanthood and humility as a disciple. If we did indeed truly follow King Jesus, then his kingdom would indeed be coming about:

6 The wolf shall live with the lamb,
the leopard shall lie down with the kid,
the calf and the lion and the fatling together,
and a little child shall lead them.
7 The cow and the bear shall graze,
their young shall lie down together;
and the lion shall eat straw like the ox.
8 The nursing child shall play over the hole of the asp,
and the weaned child shall put its hand on the adder’s den.
9 They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD
as the waters cover the sea. (Isaiah 9: 6-11)

Prayer: O King of Nations, as we long for your coming, for your light and your love, help us to realize that we are the ones you have invited to make your kingdom a reality. So many of us still expect you to be a king who invades this world to “sets things right” as we passively watch, and yet that is not what you proclaimed. If you are truly born in our hearts, then we will follow you—not just worship you–in creating a world where there is no hurt, destruction, war, or injustice. Help us to understand the true nature of your servant-kingship and to accept your invitation to follow. May it be so.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Blessings to you ~ Rosemary 20rosepoet20@gmail.com

O Antiphons ~ Radiant Dawn

December 21, 2021

O Radiant Dawn, you are the splendor of eternal light and the sun of justice. O come and shine on those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death.

Four days before the birth of the Light, on this Winter Solstice, in the O Antiphons, the ancient prayer-song of waiting and expectation, the fifth title given to the Christ (or Light, or Love, if you prefer) is Radiant Dawn. Of the seven names that compose the antiphons, this one, based again on the words of the prophet Isaiah, resonates most with me: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined. (Isaiah 9:2)

Last year at this same time, as Covid was killing off thousands of people around the globe and vaccinations were not yet available, we were all living in deep darkness, indeed. I wrote daily blogs about the presence of the Light and encouraged myself and others to “Light your candles quietly, such candles as you possess, wherever you are” (Fr. Alfred Delp, martyred by the Nazis). Here we are, a solid year later, still in the midst of pandemic, of political unrest, of inequality, of doubts and fears that persist throughout the years. Yet still, through the darkness, the Light does shine. It happens every single day as the sun rises on us once more, offering the grace of new beginnings. We have been given another day to shine, to be courageous enough to light our candles.

Who needs our light? It could be the person behind us in the check-out line, the exhausted mother trying to live up to holiday expectations, the child hurt by that same mother’s impatience, an Uber driver, the friend saying goodbye to a beloved pet, the person facing a first Christmas without a loved one, the one with whom we live daily. Or maybe it is us. Light shines in any form of compassion.

“The Light shines on in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it” (John 1:5). This is a promise, a reality, and a gift for all of us. Together, may we reflect the Light across the world.

Prayer: O Radiant Dawn, each day when the sun crests the horizon, you offer us another day of life. Help us not to take that gift for granted but to celebrate it. Show us how to shine our own lights, no matter how small or insignificant we may think they are, on a world dwelling in fear and sorrow. Let our lights be beams of love that fall on those who sit in any kind of darkness, and may we each be open to receiving your Light. May it be so.

Blessings to you ~ Rosemary 20rosepoet20@gmail.com

Photo credit Pixabay