In the Storm Still
Exploring "engaged presence" in the midst of the turbulence of our times.- reflections excerpted or carefully crafted to accompany you in your practice of 'engaged presence,' as you draw the world of crying need and awesome complexity into your heart and center.
… you shall love the Holy One with all of your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and with all of your strength … Mark 12: 30
What merits your wholehearted attention these days?
We are living through a time of extremes,
where the so much taken by so few
leaves too little for too many;
where understanding and forbearance
are held hostage
by fanaticism and fear;
where hateful brutality
comes garbed as religion,
and callous cynicism dresses up as freedom.
Yet, it is deeper into this disturbing wasteland
that we are beckoned,
to bare our hearts to a plea;
the keening chorus
of tenuous life,
echoed in the churning storms
and crackling glaciers
of warming-wasted oceans,
amid the chafing cries
of God’s children cast adrift
on treacherous seas.
Within this refrain lives
the deepest longing
of Our Long-Suffering Lover- aching for healing.
May you come to accept your longing as divine urgency.
May you know the urgency with which God longs for you. John O’ Donohue
It begs us to leave hearts ajar
and comforts behind,
that would only harden the crusty edges of our care.
The wilderness of compassion hides seeds;
dry and dormant, anticipating catharsis—
the melting of hearts, the changing of minds and lives.
Wildness reminds us what it means to be human, what we are connected to rather than what we are separated from. Terry Tempest Williams
These packages of possibility hold blueprints for peace
that blossom with the merest inclination of reverence,
and precipitation of tenderness.
In a world such as this,
who has the courage
to be vulnerable first?
Who dares confront
untruths, terror and taunting
with the hot truth of tears?
Who is strong enough to be gentle,
willing enough to embody the paradox:
only the broken are made whole-hearted?
Vulnerability is the only reliable measure of courage. Brené Brown
Though in her manifold dimensions
universe looks like chaos,
at her core mysterious, she is profound connection,
light itself, ever-outreaching,
craving communion—deep calling out to deep
in a singular cosmic sacrament!
Will you quiet your soul,
steady your voice,
and ready your loved ones for wholehearted living,
so that lovingly we might stand together,
before the haze of hurt and hatred,
misguided mockery and the reckless ruination of holy life?
It is when we love the most intensely and most humanly that we can recognize how tepid is our love for others. The keenness and intensity of love brings with it suffering, of course, but joy too because it is a foretaste of heaven. When you love people, you see all the good in them, all the Christ in them. Dorothy Day
Will you weep and keenly wonder,
at the state of God’s good garden,
and wounded humanity—body-broken of Christ?
Wholehearted living— compassion practiced—
is a narrow gate into Mercy’s expansive realm
that evaporates separation to draw us tightly together:
the dominated with the divided,
the gated with the segregated, the distracted with the discounted,
the privileged with the persecuted people of God,
together at last
under the cross we all bear,
brimming with pains and joys we can share.
Come unto me, all you who are weary and carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take up my yoke and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble-hearted, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden light. Matthew 11:28-30
What do you leave behind for those coming after you?
As I grow down, creaking and groaning,
I find my (much-diminished) self,
ever-closer to the ground.
Bent a bit,
and increasingly inclined
to question rather than resolution,
I am more at home
with the lyrical than the literal
in any and everything: rhyme without reason.
Truth, that once seemed
to fit so neatly
into my travelling haversack,
seems so much larger,
that I can no longer
get my heart, let alone my arms, around it.
Still, wisdom comes to visit,
gracing my committed incoherence
with room enough for wonder and woe to cohabit.
As tears flow more readily than reasons,
explanations evade me for the monstrous misery I witness;
swept away in a deluge of compassion.
What to tell my dear, growing-up children,
after over half a century of wondering and wandering;
looking back more frequently than ahead?
It sounds so simple and simply too hard;
that love is where they came from
and all that keeps us going.
as we live in the light and the love of those
who came before us…
…we will be remembered
in the way others still live, and still live on, in our love. David Whyte
And, with the evaporation of absolutes
in the harsh light of mercy,
judgement and dogma dissolve.
Though I can’t quite put my finger on it,
I think, somewhere I must have surrendered;
lost or let go these last illusions of control.
How frightening, to be so free;
co-responsible for everything, yet in charge of nothing.
Could this be
the uncharted territory I always sought,
while playing in the safe confines of the sandpit?
What now remains— last and lasting—
before the long slumber envelops for good what stood for me.
Now, daily to marry grateful wonder with woe,
and find, in that blessed arrangement, stepping-stones
to help in my stumbling toward the wholeness called well-being.
May it be so for you, fellow pilgrim,
as you make your way home,
much more deeply into here; far less concerned with hereafter.
And in your seeking, may you be found
and found out, as a wise fool, whose supple heart,
cleaved by loss and love, may never close to mercy and mystery.
Rest and be thankful!
Very truly, I say to you, unless a wheat grain falls into the earth and dies,
it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears abundant fruit. John 12:24
Have you heeded the beckon of the fall?
If you happen to live
along the northern curve of our planet,
you get to watch as we wobble into winter.
And with each autumn come lessons;
a harvest of graces
to color our lives and carpet the ground.
Let sky be glad. Let earth rejoice.
Let the seas and all that fills them roar.
Let the fields and everything within them exult.
Then shall the trees of the forest sing for joy… Psalm 96:11-12
As trees turn to fire,
Nature announces her blazing revolution,
in showers ocher and orange gold.
If ever were offered three wishes—
as in the tales of children—
then my desire would be for autumn’s golden graces.
Three unexpected gateways to wholeness,
revealed in letting-go,
falling-down and giving-back.
What return shall I offer the Holy One
for all the goodness given to me? Psalm 116:12
If I could wish three graces for those I dearly love,
it would be these alone:
gratitude, tenderness and humility.
Fruit of wonder,
gratitude is gateway to joy,
turning lack, loss and letting-go into gilded gift.
Fruit of forgiveness,
tenderness opens the way to healing,
transfiguring pain into passion—love’s long shadow.
Fruit of failure,
humility is the low door to wisdom
growing us back down to earth.
Mirroring the setting sun,
these autumnal lessons are poured out
in resplendent hues, for us to pore over.
Like all presents, they come to life in the give-away.
For every golden gift withheld surely turns to lead
and weighs us down with worry or woe.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted,
knowing that they hold future promise…
We are prophets of a future not our own. Ken Untener
Perhaps there is a burden you are carrying.
Perhaps someone worries you.
Perhaps a situation weighs heavily upon you.
Welcome then, autumn’s invitation
to grow by smallness and surrender,
by putting down, by giving away, by letting go.
There is no happiness without thankfulness,
no healing without hurt,
no wisdom without diminishment.
In order to arrive at what you do not know
You must go by a way which is the way of ignorance.
In order to possess what you do not possess
You must go by the way of dispossession.
In order to arrive at what you are not
You must go through the way in which you are not. T. S. Eliot
As this season slowly strips the landscape bare,
to surrounds us
in stark splendid death,
may we in thanksgiving
share the harvest,
and scatter the seeds of dreams to come.
And savoring the bounty of sunshine, showers,
soil and sweat, may you seed peace, sow forgiveness,
leave the leaves and let go!