Category Archives: Word

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Give Me A Word

14 Saturday Sep 2019

Posted by in paying attention, Uncategorized, Word

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The ancient spiritual desert dwellers called Ammas, or Abbas, received people who sought them out, and were met with a plea: “Amma, give me a Word!” The Words that came, as they have been collected and handed down, usually came in in a sentence or two, very general, very abstract sometimes, but possibly right to the point of the seekers deepest longing:

  • We carry ourselves wherever we go and we cannot escape temptation by mere flight, Amma Matrona
  • Salvation is exactly this–the two-fold love of God and of our neighbor, Amma Syncletica
  • It is good to give alms for people’s sake. Even if it is done only to please others, through it one can begin to seek to please God, Amma Sarah

I know that many of my friends find it helpful to choose a Word for an entire year that then becomes the plumb line for their discernment and aspiration. Yet, my life and times seem to defy the boundaries of just one word in a year; too many things change, too much is added, too much slips away. So I need to find a Word for the moment in which I find myself. And I am finding it as I go, in many places, forms and tones.

These days I am wishing for a Word, weekly, daily, hourly. There are so many words in the atmosphere–media, conversations, blogs, podcasts, billboards, sermons, radio chatter. The first challenge is to filter out the words that do not fit me or belong to me. I am aware that there is so much information and opinion out there that is not necessary for me, sometimes is even harmful. So the Word I am seeking is one that grounds, nourishes and directs me.

I am hearing it most often these days in poetry:

  • from Bonnie Thurston: We are all healed/in passive voice/and from the inside out.
  • from Belleruth Naparstek: My heart is pierced with gratitude.
  • from David Monteith: Breathe, then share your thoughts/ like paper lanterns on the /river of your breath.

Sometimes it comes in sacred text or liturgy:

  • lift heavy sorrow
  • forgive. forgive yourself.
  • speak the truth in love!

And then there is the Art–from Pompeii before Vesuvius, from our nation Black artists from the 60s forward. There is the natural world–roses abloom again, the ocean, calm and clear, the tree on the block with one branch of red leaves amidst all the green of the rest. These are wordless, yet full of the Word!

So I am learning to look, listen, attend to the Word for the moment whenever and wherever I find myself. These Words came this morning:

  • Pope John XXIII: See everything; overlook a great deal; correct little.
  • Rachel Naomi Remen: May I trust that the way You have made me is the way that is needed.





Those words will get me through this day, possibly tomorrow and a few days after that! The Word is very near! Look, Listen, Open my heart!

			

								


	





	

								
Valleys of Shadow
										

			04
			Friday
			May 2018
		

	
	

		

			Posted  by  in darkness, Hope, listening, pilgrimage, presence, shadow, shelter, singing, Uncategorized, Word		

		

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Shadow


I have stumbled through valleys of shadow this past year. The Psalmist talks about the Valley of the Shadow of Death, but I have encountered other valleys, internal ones in my “one wild and precious life.” I have wandered in the valley of old wounds, hurts and slights, things that happened years or months ago, which when I remember them still sting and hurt. I have roved in the valley of missteps, misdeeds and mistakes, which may or may not have been redeemed, nor may they be able to be. I have bumped along in the valley of a garbled sense of self, with roots in my tales of a journey of becoming.


Falling in to these valleys, I don’t lose my ability to function, to contribute or to enjoy. But in the solitary and dark moments, I lose perspective, direction and hope. So I have wrestled with how to navigate these turns in the road, how to live with them; I am not sure that I will ever “overcome” them. I have reached back in my own story to find out what has provided a container for me when I find myself in one of those valleys, yet again.


I begin with music. One great gift of my life from its beginnings was the sense-around sound of music: church music–choral and congregational; spiritual music; old folk songs, before there was a folk music movement. Everyone in my family–nuclear and extended–sang. We sang together in family prayers; we sang grace at holiday table. As I developed my own voice and skill, my repertoire of rock music, classical music, and camp songs expanded. Those melodies, harmonies, and rhythms, and most of the words, are embedded in my heart and awareness, and I can call them up at a dark moment’s notice. “Kindle a flame to lighten the dark, and take all fear away,” “Safe am I in the shelter of God’s hand.” Even, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when clouds are gray.” The multi-sensory memories sooth my body, comfort my soul.


I also call up words that bless–words from sacred text, words from poetry, and words from wise and compassionate companions over the parts of the trail I have traversed already. Even if I don’t sense their truth in this immediate valley of the shadows, they are touchstones for me. Knowing they are there reminds me that this valley isn’t the only terrain I am crossing; there will be other, more open and clear well-lighted spaces in which to live and move and have my being. “Even my darkness is not dark to you.” “There is joy in all…” “Life is too short to stuff a mushroom!” Sacred or silly, these words are markers of hope.


And of late, I have come to value the practice of attending curiously to the valley of my shadow itself before rushing through it: what are its contours of feeling for me? how did I happen on this particular one? what are the names of the features of this landscape? are they familiar, ancient, new? Before I race to deny or get out of this place, can I , as they say in Buddhist tradition, “..sit still until the mud settles”? What does this valley of the shadow have to teach me…about the world, about the Self that God gave me, and about the Holy One who is here with me?


That’s where I am learning to rest in each of these valleys, counting on the Psalm of the Shepherd: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley…of any kind…I fear no evil; for You are with me.” (Psalm 23: 4.) Each day there is evidence of Holy Presence, in my garden, in my dog, in an e-mail, in Bach on the radio, in a reach-out from a long ago friend, in gentleness from loved ones, in a Word–sacred and comforting. I don’t love these valleys of shadows, but I am accompanied with love and compassion through them. And the sacred journey continues.



        
    

					


	





	

								
Spiritual Clutter
										

			22
			Wednesday
			Nov 2017
		

	
	

		

			Posted  by  in advent, listening, prayer, reflection, Uncategorized, Word		

		

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images-2The liturgical year comes to an end this week, and I am struggling with what  am experiencing as spiritual clutter in my heart and mind: too many books, too many websites, too many blogs from others, too many fraught conversations. All of these sources are good, some even brilliant, but the sheer number of them is crowding out my ability to listen for the Word of the Holy One to me day by day.


I am attracted to every shiny word and image about people’s journey of Spirit that I see. What does this young woman have to say? what insights do these theologians have to bring? how are these spiritual teachers expanding the parameters of deep conversation? and who are the latest voices to come to sit in at the table of conversation? Most of these sources are worthy, provocative and helpful. Theirs are insights and perspectives that challenge and enrich my own study and experience so far. But what I am finding is that for me right now, the engagement of “more” is crowding out the “one thing necessary” that Jesus flagged for Martha and Mary, that time of listening deeply, musing, pondering, letting the Word dwell in me richly, truly, madly deeply. I read quickly, so I can absorb lots of words in a record amount of time, but I am noticing that my rapid speed and prodigious quantities of written material are making it hard for me to hear a Word. I remember the seekers who went to the Desert Ammas and Abbas to ask, “Amma, give me a word!” Rarely were the responses given in more than one or two sentences. When that Word was given, the seeker was to go into her own life again to ponder, to meditate, to contemplate what that might mean for her in the location she was given to live.


As I take the turn into Advent next week, I want to  attend to the one thing necessary. It will mean ignoring and tuning out some very glittering images and plangent siren calls of What’s New, What’s Exciting and What’s Different. It will mean turning down the volume on the shrieking headlines and news updates of the hour. It will mean choosing an Advent practice wisely, and then sticking with that, and only that, while I give myself the time and space to reflect on what comes up for me. It will mean committing myself to the parts of my practice that I skate over quickly–the silence, the journal writing, the focused prayer. And keep my eyes and ears focused on the one thing I intend to do.


I have already begun removing things from my basket in my prayer place. That book I nearly finished but didn’t can go to another stack of awaited reading. That diary that is more about quotidian activities than the heart of the matter can come to my reading chair for later. That journal that is really completed can be replaced by a new one that is eagerly waiting with me for a Word. And my timer can keep me rooted and breathing in my prayer place as I listen for the Word.


My late spiritual director, Betsy, often quoted C.G. Jung, saying ,”The Good is the Enemy of the Best.” The good clutter all around, so readily accessible to me, is in this moment the enemy of my best hope for getting a clear channel of connection to the Holy One who is waiting to teach and direct me in these days fraught with bafflement. outrage and grief. My invitation is to un-clutter, sit still and keep my heart, eyes and ears open.


I look forward to what will come in this Advent of attention.