We are in a topsy-turvy world. I really wonder whether it has always been so topsy-turvy, or whether at age 10, I was oblivious to the topsy-turvyness. It is probably the latter, and now I am just more cognizant of the turvyness. (I don’t think this is really a word, but it sounds neat.) But where do we find our refuge? I find myself wanting to listen to the news to see if it has gotten any better, but it just keeps getting crazier. Listening to more news does not make it better. Although I try to meditate, I find that it is difficult to turn my mind off, even if it is for fifteen minutes. I do a better job if I am meditating with a group. The standbys of walking, exercising, listening to music, or reading poetry are of some help. I think the point of new years’ resolutions is to try and slow down, to turn over a new leaf, to get back on track. That is what I am going to do this year. I share the poem that a friend of mine wrote.

Come in, friends. There is a storm outside.
The earth will not stop trembling while we pause, but we will find stillness here.

In this room, we are held and nourished, stimulated and refreshed. We need only glance around this circle to witness the light of divine love — or close our eyes and feel its tender warmth.

In this room, our flame may flicker in the wind and then grow brighter. We may doubt and then feel our resolve grow stronger. Our love may wiggle and waver, but we trust that it will persist.

The sacred womb of this room prepares each of us to boldly carry that love like a torch into the night. And we find that they are one and the same together, the womb that holds us and the one that wells up from a knowing deep within each of us.

In a lifetime during which nothing lasts and the ground will always move beneath our feet, take refuge here. We are both holding and always held.

Be still. Welcome!

Lisa Steele-Maley, 2017

– Mary Anne Totten, CPE Intern

God’s Presence

Consider how the sun continually lights our daily world, yet we cannot see the light except in what it touches.  Though the sun burns constantly and holds everything living within its pull, though it sends its power across millions of miles, it is unseen for all that way, until it hits a simple blade of grass or makes the web of spider a golden patch of lace.

In the same way, the presence of God powerfully moves between us as unseen, only visible in the brief moments we are lighted, in those enlivened moments we know as love.

For just as we can look at that spider web and never see its beauty until it reveals itself in sudden light, we can look upon the nearest face, again and again, never seeing the beauty in each other, until one or both of us is suddenly revealed.  Spirits show themselves in just this way, or rather, our gentleness of heart allows us to see and be seen.

It makes our search for love a humble one.  For what is there to do but grow in the open and wait.

                                                                                    From Mark Nepo: The Book of Awakening    

May the light awaken you to the love of others and the beauty in all things.   

– Sarah McEvoy, CPE Intern                     

My work room at home overheats, so I leave the window open a crack.

I hate how wasteful this is, but I love how it lets a bit of the outdoors in.

I hear the steady drip of last night’s snowfall melting off the roof.

The beautiful white blanket of fresh snow is disappearing.

Soon, the view outside my window will be shades of brown and grey.

The steady drips mark the time between now and soon, between white and brown.

They also remind me of beauty’s different looks, shapes and sounds.

My gorgeous white is becoming nutritious wet for the trees and plants.

Solid is stealthily turning to liquid.

Nothing stays put.

My right now is different from what it was an hour ago.

Each drop reminds me that I am changing, too, one stealthy drop at a time.

John Terauds, CPE Intern

I’m not doing it this year. I am not looking for a word to call my own. I am not making a resolution, naming an intention or establishing lofty goals. I am not doing any of it this year because so much feels beyond my control. And maybe this is the way things have always been, but it took a pandemic for me to realize it.

I came upon this poem by Mary Oliver today and it helped to align my past with my future and plop me squarely in the middle of my right now moments. As she shares, the present is what our lives are. It’s not in our resolutions or intentions or goals, but in the right now moments, this right now moment.

Mornings at Blackwater ― Mary Oliver

For years, every morning, I drank
from Blackwater Pond.
It was flavored with oak leaves and also, no doubt,
the feet of ducks.

And always it assuaged me
from the dry bowl of the very far past.

What I want to say is
that the past is the past,
and the present is what your life is,
and you are capable
of choosing what that will be,
darling citizen.

So come to the pond,
or the river of your imagination,
or the harbor of your longing,
and put your lips to the world.

And live
your life.

Reflection from Cherie Shaw, CPE Intern

The start of a new year is always a good time to reassess. I invite you to take some time to reflect on your place in the world, the belonging you have that tethers you to this place and the connections that nurture your spirit. If you find some place wanting, just lean a bit more into listening to yourself, listening to others at a deeper level and see if you can feel the connection with those around you and with all of creation. Say hi to strangers, greet a tree out loud, laugh out loud at something that brings you joy even when noone is looking.

If life is all shadows and weightiness today; rest, find some kindness that you can share, lean into those who will hold you and lighten your load. You are precious and unique in all this world. Your life makes ripples in the season of time that you are here and changes everything. You are the beloved one that the Holy rejoices in.

Here is a blessing by Jan Richardson.

A Blessing

Begin here:

 Beloved.

Is there any other word needs saying,

any other blessing could compare

with this name, this knowing?

Beloved.

Comes like a mercy to the ear that has never

heard it. Comes like a river

to the body that has never seen such grace.

Beloved.

Comes holy to the heart aching to be new.

Comes healing to the soul

wanting to begin again.

Beloved.

Keep saying it and though it may

sound strange at first,

watch how it becomes part of you,

how it becomes you, as if you never

could have known yourself

anything else, as if you could ever

have been other than this:

Beloved.

–Jan Richardson

Be the love that you hope for the world and when your well is dry, reach out to others who can share their love for a time.

– Rev. Michelle DeCoste

Happy New Year!

As I write this, it is a few days before we ring the new year.  I imagine most of us are ready to say farewell to 2020. This year has been a year of emotional travel whether we left our homes or not.  We have been tested and tempered by suffering and in the stillness of isolation, a multitude of feelings have surfaced including sadness, grief, anger, and confusion. 

Yet, rising up in us is also curiosity, wonder, creativity, and hope for the promise of what the new year might bring.  2021 will be a year when the COVID-19 vaccine is rolled out.  With protection against this virus, we will begin to travel outside ourselves to new frontiers and… we will grow, we will overcome, and we will love and give love. 

To usher in the new year, I offer you a poem by John O’Donohue, For the Traveler, to honor the Traveler that each of us will be this year:

Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.
 
New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.
 
When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:
 
How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.
 
When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.
 
A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.
 
May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.
 
May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.
 
~ John O’Donohue ~

Please stay safe on your journey and… warm wishes for a Happy New Year!

Marianne DiBlasi, CPE Intern

PRIORITIES

I have entitled this reflection “Priorities” not New Year’s Resolutions. Trying to think what the entire year is going to be is daunting, particularly given what we have lived through in 2020. I think it is better to have daily resolves in order to “chunk it down” and make it more manageable. How many of us make resolutions to exercise more, eat more healthy and eat less, be kinder, work for peace (just to name a few)? And how many of us actually achieve these goal. Less than 50% of people actually achieve their new year’s resolutions. None of us is perfect, and there is always room for improvement. That is the way I approach so called New Year’s Resolutions—I can always be better this year than I was last.

We set priorities all the time even though we may not be aware of it. The priority in the morning is getting out of bed, taking a shower, eating breakfast, and getting to work. For some there may be a priority of getting the kids to school or settled into an at home program. I suspect that many of us do these things in a certain order. How do any of our activities feed our soul? Even the mundane daily tasks can be a spiritual practice. It is important to set priorities, otherwise we follow the path of least resistance, and don’t get very much done.

Brian Tracy wrote a book entitled, Eat That Frog! This is the idea that you tackle the biggest,
hardest, and least appealing task first thing every day. Then you can move through the rest of the day knowing that the worst has already passed. When you have a fat old frog on your plate,
you have really got to knuckle down. When you have to eat a frog, don’t spend too much time
looking at it! It’s best to get it over with. If you spend too much time planning your attack, or
psyching yourself up, much time is wasted.

A second suggestion is “move big rocks.” This is using the wisdom of a pickle jar. Take a pickle jar and fill it up with sand. Now try to put a handful of rocks in it. There is no room. It is best to put the big rocks in first, then the small pebbles, and finally handfuls of sand. If we spend our time trying to do all of the small busy tasks, the big rocks or tasks never get done.

A third approach is to use Stephen Covey’s quadrant system as he wrote in The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People: Powerful Lessons in Personal Change. This is sorting out things according to the following priorities: 1) Important and Urgent; 2) Important but not Urgent; 3) Not important but urgent; 4) Not Important and Not Urgent. By working on things that are important, there is less chance that they become urgent. In setting the priorities of the daily tasks, it is important to have spiritual disciplines that nourish our souls. As you set your priorities for the day or for 2021, factor in time for meditation or prayer, service to others (besides your work), study, fun, and celebration of daily joys.

So, as you think of your daily priorities, eat a frog and move big rocks.

A MORNING RESOLVE for 2021
(from a calendar by Bishop John H. Vincent)

I will try this day to live a simple, sincere, and serene life,
repelling promptly every thought of discontent, anxiety,
discouragement, impurity, and self-seeking; cultivating
cheerfulness, magnanimity, charity, and the habit of holy silence;
exercising economy in expenditure, generosity in giving,
carefulness in conversation, diligence in appointed service,
fidelity to every trust, and a childlike faith in God.

In particular I will try to be faithful in those habits of prayer,
work, study, physical exercise, eating, and sleep which I believe
the Holy Spirit has shown me to be right.

And as I cannot in my own strength do this, nor even with a hope
of success attempt it, I look to you, God through Jesus Christ, and
ask for the gift of the Holy Spirit.
Amen

– Mary Anne Totten, Chaplain Intern

I’ve realized one result of the pandemic is the loss of what I call “little joys” — meeting a friend
for coffee, going out to dinner, listening to live music. I’m starting to feel the need for
replacements, and I find myself looking to my 17 year-old son for guidance. Somehow he’s
been able to find little moments of joy and stress relief throughout this day, even in the midst
of his crazy schedule juggling rotating online and in-person high school as well as college
applications.

I see him taking a break from his school work, putting on Netflix, and laughing out loud to “The
Office” for a half hour. He curls up and listens to music in the camp sleeping bag he dug out of
the basement. He and some friends are planning a cross-country road trip for this summer;
studying Google maps and discussing potential routes is a great distraction and opportunity to
dream. I can tell these little things are feeding his soul, and I realize the need to discover my
own little things to feed mine.

I’m not much of a movie or television person, but the time and space that comes with winter
seems like the perfect opportunity to indulge. I have my annual favorites, including “Downton
Abbey” and the six-part BBC version of “Pride & Prejudice.” I also love the feeling of coziness
and warmth while reading under a fuzzy blanket. And a hot cup of morning coffee can be pure
joy to me.

I discovered a prayer for little joys written by Augsburg University’s campus ministry that
beautifully speaks to our times. I invite you to join me in praying this adapted version:

God, giver of everlasting joy, open our hearts to the glimmers of glee that remain before us even
in these days of hardship. Reorient us, if but for a moment, to notice the small things that give
hope, provide inspiration, thrill the soul, and generate smirks and smiles. Help us to notice these
little joys in a moment of quiet reflection with our bodies attuned to gladness. This we pray in
gratitude, Amen.

May you notice and relish the little joys that feed your soul today.

Blessings & peace to you,
Jennifer, CPE Intern