Listening for the Sacred

 http://pinterest.com/pin/226024475018402679/ 

I want to hear the whispers behind your words. I want to ask you questions and then create a silent, sacred space that allows me to hear the your answers - not my own.

I want to become a Listener...

Sex, Marriage, & Fairytales || Spoken Word

a beautiful journey

I am sentimental beyond belief over hand-written letters, my kid's art work, beach sea glass and old family photos. But regular "stuff" - not so much. That's why my grief over the decision to finally trade our thirteen-year-old car yesterday truly caught me completely off-guard.

Meet Black Beauty.

Our teenage son was not even walking when she first joined our family in the late 1990's. She faithfully carried him first in his car seat and then his booster seat on countless trips back and forth to preschool, kindergarten and elementary school. When he was finally big enough to ride without a booster seat, she promised me it would be OK. When I carpooled other friend's kids and drove on school field-trips, she promised me she would protect those children as well.

Much later, when our son was nearly as tall as me, she was there for our first, nervous side-by-side conversation on the way to middle school. And her air bag did NOT spontaneously or mysteriously deploy (thank you especially for this, old friend).

Our Black Beauty carried us on many, happy family vacations. We strapped a cargo carrier to her top when we moved our aging dogs with us from KY to FL, and she never once complained. Later, after both had moved on to Heaven, she drove us home again while our son cradled his brand-new puppy in his arms. She's hauled bicycles, surf boards, golf clubs, soccer gear, kayaks and so much more. Not one time did she ever leave me stranded alone and away from the house. If she had a flat tire or needed a battery, she always let me know while we were safely still in the driveway. Beauty helped me to avoid many potential accidents, and in all those years, we were never involved in even the tiniest fender-bender. 

The other day I had a nasty little exchange with an older woman driver in my neighborhood. I won't recount the details here, but I do understand now that part of my anger at this driver was related to my knowing that my days with Beauty were numbered. I felt this woman refused to see Beauty's true worth and instead saw only her 176,000 plus miles of weathered paint and dirt. Nor, could she seem to comprehend the preciousness of the cargo - my son and our dog - that Beauty was carrying for me at that moment. 

So, on Monday, I spent some unhurried, prayerful time telling Beauty thank you for myself. I removed the sea turtle, butterfly, dove, cross and love chimes that were draped around her rear view mirror. Afterwards, I stopped to look at the reflection of my own eyes for several moments, thinking of all the two of us had seen on Life's highway. Under the driver's seat, Beauty gave me one final gift - a tiny piece of amber sea glass. It must have dropped out of my pocket after one of our many trips to the beach. It's crescent moon shape found a perfect resting spot here beside me at my writing desk.

Afterwards, we headed off to car line pick-up, the grocery and then one final sunset together...

It's been a very Beautiful ride.

a tiny contemplation from the Center

I had sort of a cruddy afternoon yesterday. My little temper tantrum was completely self-imposed, and I invited it to stretch far into the evening and this morning.

My son commented as we were turning out the lights late last night, "Mom, you were just looking for a fight today, weren't you?" I think I totally was.

Why is that? Why do I do look for trouble more times than I want to admit? What snaps within me that takes me from laughing one minute to wanted to claw someone's eyes out the next?

Hormones? History? Hysteria?

Whatever the cause, I totally know better. I've bitten the wormy hook of hate cast in my direction by others far too many times. I always seem to learn something whenever I allow misery to reel me in, and, thankfully, those lessons usually come while I still have a bit of breath left in me. Often, I learn them on the labyrinth.

After all our walkers were finished this morning, I removed my shoes and set out on the Path myself. I had much to ponder from yesterday's happenings and other concerns of the heart. Before I realized it, I was sitting within the Center's fifth petal feeling the sun's warmth upon my back. I intended to stay just a few moments, but remained there much, much longer. I simply did not want to leave that sacred and familiar space.

I walked in with all my questions. I was hoping - maybe even expecting - some definitive answers. I received none.

Instead, I watched an ant.

With a deep, contemplative awareness that I have been unable to attain since my retreat time at Advent, I watched this ant with my entire being. He crawled beneath my outstretched knees through the Center of the labyrinth and straight out the exit. After a few more minutes, I started to get up to follow him, thinking his exit might be a sign that it was far past time for me to leave. It was then that tragedy struck.

A Live Oak leaf blew right in front of him. He scrambled up it and teeter-tottered in the breeze for a few joyous seconds. When he climbed off, the leaf blew on top of him.

I thought nothing of this at first until he didn't move for over a minute. When I got up to investigate, I realized with despair that the leaf had actually sliced off one of his middle legs. Imagine being so incredibly delicate that a leaf becomes a deadly razor capable of ending your life...

The ant now crawled in an erratic pattern around the exterior of the labyrinth's center in apparent shock. The song "Fragile" by Sting started playing in my mind. I took a few, sad steps onto the Path. When I doubled-back to check on him, he was gone.

Vanished. Like the wind. Odd.

And I am left wondering, how is it that I can have more genuine compassion for an ant than for an angry human being?

And wondering, again, if the compassion that I lack for her or for him or for you or for them might be more deeply rooted in my own lack of compassion for -

me? 

I wonder.

walk the labyrinth with us tomorrow

Join us tomorrow, January 19th, between 10am and 12pm for THIRD THURSDAYS ON THE LABYRINTH at The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd. For more info visit http://www.goodsheponline.org

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more than just words to remember

Source: allposters.com via JoAnn on Pinterest

2012. May it be filled with Grace.

This tiny post is in response to someone else's which read:  "2012. May it be all you deserve."

God help us to receive not what we actually deserve, but rather please pour upon us Your divine Grace. Amen.

Merry Christmas Morning

I was reminded of this beautiful song last night during church services. Though we didn't sing it right then, I hurried to copy down the words from the hymnal. I heard the song years ago on one of my favorite Christmas albums by Shawn Colvin. Her version is slightly different.

I had no idea that one of my favorite poets wrote the original lyrics or that it was even really a hymn. 

I just love it....

Here are both versions for you as an early Christmas morning gift. Have a most blessed day, everyone. 

Love, Robin

Words: Christina Georgina Rossetti (1830-1894), before 1886


Music: "Garton," traditional Irish melody
MIDI / Noteworthy Composer / PDF / XML

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine;
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and Angels gave the sign.


Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine;
Worship we our Jesus:
But wherewith for sacred sign?


Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

pondering

I hesitate to write this because I really don't have the words formed anywhere near just the way I'd like. But I am getting something like that pounding, bursting, hot feeling in my chest that happens occasionally when I find myself sitting in a large gathering of people and suddenly feel there is something pressing I need to say out loud. The incredibly frightening part of getting such a feeling (like that and like this) is that I rarely ever have a clue what I will actually be saying out loud until after I open my mouth. For a person (like me) who is deathly afraid of public speaking, this fairly frequent occurrence can be more than a little unsettling.

But it's been many hours since the Solitude Retreat this past Saturday morning when I sat silently on a bench  staring at my own feet and outward at the feet of Mary, and this suggestion of a thought is now rambling around and around in my brain so loudly now that no matter how hard I try to distract myself, I only think it will get louder until I finally stop, submit and write it out.

(This is how things seem to go for me. Big stuff sticks and won't turn me loose. I simply have to write it out.)

Maybe this suggestion is sort of radical. Or maybe you have thought about this idea yourself for a long time and to you it makes perfect sense (if so, please let me know). Because I don't know (and hopefully I don't have to understand it, but merely name it). For me, this growing awareness began surfacing many years ago, when I finally began stretching awake from the dark and sleepy stupor of myself. Since the moment the alarm went off, my stumbling, morning walk has been equal parts comforting and terrifying in a kind of "it all seems so simple and so incredibly impossible" type of way.

But anyway, here goes...

What if the Second Advent we are preparing for during this Christmas Season of Expectation is less of an external event than it is an internal one? What if those of us who have accepted Jesus into our hearts are now being called to a deeper awareness of the physical and figurative in-dwelling of Christ? What if the Kingdom of God is so readily "at hand" that it exists right this very moment, right inside our very own hearts, and that we are walking around not even aware of it? What if, like Mary, we are each - man, woman and child alike - preparing ourselves for a great and sacred Birth that is impossible to fully comprehend and also impossible to delay? What if this "Birthing" is really a "Submitting" to the Christ who has always been Alive and Dwelling in our hearts/minds/souls from our very first breath on earth? And, what IF Christ's heavenly entry back into our broken, human world is intended and necessary and required to start in the womb of our own broken human lives and bodies? What if this miracle can only happen by way of the LOVE we commit to share with one another and  ALL THE OTHERS  through the surrender of the gift of our lives?

I hope this was what I was supposed to say out loud to whoever might read this today. Thanks for listening.

Peace for your Path,
Robin

sing a little song...

We'll have some very special young labyrinth walkers with us this week at Good Shepherd for just a little bit. Bring your singing voices along :) 

(This Thursday December 15th from 10am to 12pm)

The Friendly Beasts

Jesus, our Brother, strong and good,

Was humbly born in a stable rude,

And the friendly beasts around Him stood,

Jesus, our Brother, strong and good.

“I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown,

“I carried His mother uphill and down,

I carried His mother to Bethlehem town;

I,” said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

“I,” said the cow, all white and red,

“I gave Him my manger for His bed,

I gave Him hay to pillow His head;

I,” said the cow, all white and red.

“I,” said the sheep with curly horn,

“I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm,

He wore my coat on Christmas morn;

I,” said the sheep with curly horn.

“I,” said the dove, from the rafters high,

“I cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry,

We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I;

I,” said the dove, from the rafters high.

Thus all the beasts, by some good spell,

In the stable dark were glad to tell

Of the gifts they gave Emmanuel,

The gifts they gave Emmanuel.

See you on the Path!

Robin

P.S. If you'd prefer our traditional silent labyrinth walking experience, then please wait and come just a little past 11am. Thanks!

Third Thursdays on the Labyrinth is coming up next week!

All walkers are welcome to drop by anytime between 10am and 12pm to enjoy an open labyrinth walk on Thursday, December 15th in celebration of Advent.

Visit the Good Shepherd website for directions: www.goodsheponline.org.

Peace for your Path,
Robin

The Great Blue Heron

The Great Blue Heron

“and that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.” – Ephesians 3: 17-19

A few winters ago, I was sitting on our lanai sipping my morning coffee when the most majestic Great Blue Heron glided past me to land gracefully at the water’s edge. I was immediately overcome by the metaphor of Christ’s own dramatic descent to earth to dwell among us. I trembled with the realization that the mighty Son of God temporarily relinquished his power over the heavens to humbly land on frail human legs so that I might begin to comprehend the true meaning of Love...

Silent Heron Herald glides,

steel-blue wings extend -

alight

on willow-wisp legs.

Abide.

Dwell.

Emmanuel.

( I just found this image on this lovely website: http://ucsantacruz.ucnrs.org/?page_id=1150)

Loving Father, Jesus, Spirit, thank you for the ways you speak deeply into my heart through the mystery of your Creation. Thank you for opening my eyes to the beauty of your natural Love. Amen

Robin Bradley Hansel

(Special thanks to First Pres of NPB for including my poetry and reflection in their Advent Devotional again this year).