"And love says: I will, I will take care of you."
~Hafiz
I encountered this quote at the very beginning of Lent and was deeply moved and inspired by it. In fact, my exact words at the time were this:
"I discovered the poetry of a 14th century Sufi mystic today, and it was as if an ocean instantly opened up in the desert and swallowed my heart whole. And this was a good and comforting thing. I'm looking forward to immersing myself in this new world!"
Reading poetry from the mystical genre inspired me to write a piece of my own. I enjoyed the exercise of writing in a different "voice" of sorts--different from my usual pieces.
THE KNOWING
What are you doing here?
My soul asks
The mysterious figure emerging from the mist
I am your lover
I am here
I don't have a lover
My soul responds pointedly
And that wasn't my question
But I AM your lover
I am here
I have come to see you
And to listen
How long will you be here?
My soul asks
Still viewing the stranger with suspicion
I am your lover
I am here
And I will remain here
Until every last word has spilled from your heart
Instinctively my heart springs open
My soul rejoicing
In this homecoming
Rapture of love
I look into the eyes of
My lover
And recognize the reflection of my own heart
Looking back at me
Later
My mind queries
My heart and my soul
But how did you know?
How could you know that this was
Truly your lover?
And not another impostor?
Because
My heart and my soul answer in unison
As they lock eyes knowingly
Because
Only the lover
Knows about the secret vault of words
"For it is out of the abundance of the heart that the mouth speaks." ~Luke 6:45b
Monday, April 25, 2011
Is She Breathing Yet?
Happy Easter!
Resurrection is the main event of Easter--not just the story of Christ's resurrection, but also how that event touches and transforms us in our own lives. Resurrection is not just a futuristic "something that happens when we die" kind of concept; it also takes place in the here and now. Resurrection is what leads us into new life. My pastor made an important distinction about the concept of resurrection in her Easter sermon this past Sunday: "It is not coming back to the life you lived before; that would be resuscitation."
My recent vacation time away in Oregon helped serve as a vessel that carried me through to my experience of this year's Easter resurrection. Before my trip I was weary, stressed, stretched, depressed, exhausted, frustrated, and generally maxed out emotionally, physically, mentally, and perhaps spiritually. I needed a break!
A break is exactly what I got. It ended up that my time away was extended by several days due to needing car repairs--and I knew immediately when my car broke down that this was no random, unfortunate accident; God was providing for me exactly what I was needing at the time. "Move back, everyone--Kristy needs some breathing room!" (Ahhh...now I see the symbolism of my recent asthma struggles!)
The extra days away made all the difference in the world. I returned to Seattle, but not to "the life I lived before." Although nothing significant had changed about my life situation or about me personally, the time away provided me with the necessary grace to return with a resurrected spirit. The things that were weighing me down and holding me captive before (the metaphor of death), have been loosened and lifted. As I described it to friends this weekend, "It's as if my life right now is an open parenthesis. Sometimes that kind of openness is a scary state to be in, but right now it feels hopeful and full of potential."
Pastor Susan also mentioned in her sermon, "You can't explain the resurrection; the resurrection explains us." Once again, this relates back to a key concept I elaborated on in an earlier blog post: "We live by the stories we tell." The Easter joy, peace, hope and expectation I am experiencing in the here and now have everything to do with the stories I tell...the stories I choose to live and re-live, including how I choose to tell my own story. From time to time I do find myself stuck on some of the stories that threaten to weigh me down or hold me back from living life to the fullest expression that I think is intended for me--but that's what Easter is for. Easter reminds us to say "Yes!" to--and therefore begin to live into--the promises of the resurrection.
What is it that you need to say "Yes!" to in your life right now? My prayer for you is that resurrection promises will meet you there.
Christ is risen!
Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Yes: it is good to breathe again.
Resurrection is the main event of Easter--not just the story of Christ's resurrection, but also how that event touches and transforms us in our own lives. Resurrection is not just a futuristic "something that happens when we die" kind of concept; it also takes place in the here and now. Resurrection is what leads us into new life. My pastor made an important distinction about the concept of resurrection in her Easter sermon this past Sunday: "It is not coming back to the life you lived before; that would be resuscitation."
My recent vacation time away in Oregon helped serve as a vessel that carried me through to my experience of this year's Easter resurrection. Before my trip I was weary, stressed, stretched, depressed, exhausted, frustrated, and generally maxed out emotionally, physically, mentally, and perhaps spiritually. I needed a break!
A break is exactly what I got. It ended up that my time away was extended by several days due to needing car repairs--and I knew immediately when my car broke down that this was no random, unfortunate accident; God was providing for me exactly what I was needing at the time. "Move back, everyone--Kristy needs some breathing room!" (Ahhh...now I see the symbolism of my recent asthma struggles!)
The extra days away made all the difference in the world. I returned to Seattle, but not to "the life I lived before." Although nothing significant had changed about my life situation or about me personally, the time away provided me with the necessary grace to return with a resurrected spirit. The things that were weighing me down and holding me captive before (the metaphor of death), have been loosened and lifted. As I described it to friends this weekend, "It's as if my life right now is an open parenthesis. Sometimes that kind of openness is a scary state to be in, but right now it feels hopeful and full of potential."
Pastor Susan also mentioned in her sermon, "You can't explain the resurrection; the resurrection explains us." Once again, this relates back to a key concept I elaborated on in an earlier blog post: "We live by the stories we tell." The Easter joy, peace, hope and expectation I am experiencing in the here and now have everything to do with the stories I tell...the stories I choose to live and re-live, including how I choose to tell my own story. From time to time I do find myself stuck on some of the stories that threaten to weigh me down or hold me back from living life to the fullest expression that I think is intended for me--but that's what Easter is for. Easter reminds us to say "Yes!" to--and therefore begin to live into--the promises of the resurrection.
What is it that you need to say "Yes!" to in your life right now? My prayer for you is that resurrection promises will meet you there.
Christ is risen!
Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
Yes: it is good to breathe again.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Waiting to Exhale
Well, my next post was going to be on the topic of what I've learned about Love during my Lenten journey, but I'm still working on that one--a lot to sum up after nearly 40 days of reflection and musings on this topic!
In the meantime, here's a poem I'd like to share. This poem is full of many stories. Some of the stories are mine, some of them belong to others. Some of the stories are from the past, some are in the present, and some are still in the future. I'm fascinated by the power of words to transcend so much time and space.
WAITING TO EXHALE
The words of my heart are primed
I open my mouth to speak
But before I can complete a sentence
In an instant you have vanished
So quickly
Your very shadow yet remains
The only evidence now
That you were ever standing here
I crouch down
And touch my fingertips
To your darkened outline on the ground
Lingering signs of your presence
Now speak only of your absence
I consider for a moment
The prospect
Of standing here for all eternity
In the hopes that one day
You'll return
To hear the rest of my sentence
Words that are now displaced
Because they were meant only
For you
But though hope tugs solidly
At my heartstrings
Life has taught me an important lesson
To which my will must now bend:
I mustn't hold my breath
Or I'll forever be waiting to exhale
~Kristy
03/12/2011
In the meantime, here's a poem I'd like to share. This poem is full of many stories. Some of the stories are mine, some of them belong to others. Some of the stories are from the past, some are in the present, and some are still in the future. I'm fascinated by the power of words to transcend so much time and space.
WAITING TO EXHALE
The words of my heart are primed
I open my mouth to speak
But before I can complete a sentence
In an instant you have vanished
So quickly
Your very shadow yet remains
The only evidence now
That you were ever standing here
I crouch down
And touch my fingertips
To your darkened outline on the ground
Lingering signs of your presence
Now speak only of your absence
I consider for a moment
The prospect
Of standing here for all eternity
In the hopes that one day
You'll return
To hear the rest of my sentence
Words that are now displaced
Because they were meant only
For you
But though hope tugs solidly
At my heartstrings
Life has taught me an important lesson
To which my will must now bend:
I mustn't hold my breath
Or I'll forever be waiting to exhale
~Kristy
03/12/2011
Lent Happens
Lent is drawing to a close as we enter Holy Week. Easter is now only a week away. Part of me would like to be able to say that I spent the last several weeks engaging in regular acts of contemplation and meditation as part of my Lenten discipline. But, as usual, "life happens" and some of the things I had hoped to "accomplish" during this Lenten season fell by the wayside because my life happens to be extremely busy right now. I realize, however, that while life is happening, Lent itself continues to happen as well...in and around, under and above all the other "stuff" of life. My spiritual reflections continued to take place right there in the mix of all the crazy busy-ness of the many other life demands with which I've been wrestling. I just didn't have the time to write about it at the time--a source of frustration for me on more than one occasion!
I just returned from a week in Oregon, spending time with my family and getting some much needed respite. Originally my trip was only supposed to be five days long, but car troubles extended my time away by three extra days. Without a doubt, those extra days were exactly what my spirit and psyche needed in order for me to return back to Seattle feeling much more centered and in better touch with myself again. Actually, I think it has more to do with returning with a better focus, rather than feeling more in touch with myself. Nothing about me has changed, and nothing about my general life circumstances have changed; but, our attitudes and outlook and focus on life and self have everything to do with how we see, hear, feel, think, live and breathe. When those things get off track, it's easy to feel like I've lost touch with myself even though I haven't really gone anywhere.
I've been back several days now, and in spite of having to deal with the costly side-effects of being away even longer than planned, it's easy to recognize that I'm in a much better space than I was before I left. Yesterday as I was paying attention to this change in my spirit I couldn't help but smile to myself as I connected these events to a foretaste of the promise of Easter. I like how I phrased it in my last post: "Easter has never failed me." Again, here is an example of how my life often feels so in sync with the liturgical calendar. I began to think of how the church calendar is like an itinerary. It gives times and points directions as well as provides a brief synopsis of the places we will go when we arrive. While our experiences on this journey are sure to be unique and widely varied, we are at the same time participating in something of a universal story. And we can visit the same places repeatedly, experiencing it differently each time. I have been to Easter before. At least 36 times, if you want to think in literal terms, but I think Easter also happens at many other metaphorical times. (As an aside, "time" as a concept is one that still confounds me in many ways--but that's a whole other blog post!)
I have been to Easter before. Still, as I look down at my itinerary and see that we reach the destination of Easter in only a week, something of a child-like energy of hopeful, expectant excitement begins to rise up from the deepest part of my being. Even though I've been there before, the excitement still feels as if I will be seeing Easter again for the first time--delightful surprises await me in the days ahead! Easter is a place that you can visit an infinite amount of times and still experience something new with each trip. My self-awareness of the rejuvenation of my spirit after having been away is one of the markers on my itinerary--it announces that we are about to reach this long awaited destination. Lent is an incredibly rich place with lots to see and experience, but nobody goes to Lent to stay there. Nobody. If you don't continue your trip on to Easter then there's no real reason to have visited Lent in the first place.
Part of my excitement lies in wondering what Easter miracles are about to unfold in my life. I am poised and ready for some known transitional changes of sorts, and it's refreshing to be in a space again where there is an influx of positive energy towards whatever it is that will unfold in my life in the days ahead.
Of course, we still have to journey through Holy Week itself, before we arrive at Easter. You can't get to the Easter Resurrection without going through the cross event. This very week is the most dramatic part of the Jesus story, and, as my pastor commented this morning, it is in Holy Week that we "enter the deepest mysteries of God's love for us." And this brings me to the topic of my next post: what my Lenten journey this year has taught me about love.
I just returned from a week in Oregon, spending time with my family and getting some much needed respite. Originally my trip was only supposed to be five days long, but car troubles extended my time away by three extra days. Without a doubt, those extra days were exactly what my spirit and psyche needed in order for me to return back to Seattle feeling much more centered and in better touch with myself again. Actually, I think it has more to do with returning with a better focus, rather than feeling more in touch with myself. Nothing about me has changed, and nothing about my general life circumstances have changed; but, our attitudes and outlook and focus on life and self have everything to do with how we see, hear, feel, think, live and breathe. When those things get off track, it's easy to feel like I've lost touch with myself even though I haven't really gone anywhere.
I've been back several days now, and in spite of having to deal with the costly side-effects of being away even longer than planned, it's easy to recognize that I'm in a much better space than I was before I left. Yesterday as I was paying attention to this change in my spirit I couldn't help but smile to myself as I connected these events to a foretaste of the promise of Easter. I like how I phrased it in my last post: "Easter has never failed me." Again, here is an example of how my life often feels so in sync with the liturgical calendar. I began to think of how the church calendar is like an itinerary. It gives times and points directions as well as provides a brief synopsis of the places we will go when we arrive. While our experiences on this journey are sure to be unique and widely varied, we are at the same time participating in something of a universal story. And we can visit the same places repeatedly, experiencing it differently each time. I have been to Easter before. At least 36 times, if you want to think in literal terms, but I think Easter also happens at many other metaphorical times. (As an aside, "time" as a concept is one that still confounds me in many ways--but that's a whole other blog post!)
I have been to Easter before. Still, as I look down at my itinerary and see that we reach the destination of Easter in only a week, something of a child-like energy of hopeful, expectant excitement begins to rise up from the deepest part of my being. Even though I've been there before, the excitement still feels as if I will be seeing Easter again for the first time--delightful surprises await me in the days ahead! Easter is a place that you can visit an infinite amount of times and still experience something new with each trip. My self-awareness of the rejuvenation of my spirit after having been away is one of the markers on my itinerary--it announces that we are about to reach this long awaited destination. Lent is an incredibly rich place with lots to see and experience, but nobody goes to Lent to stay there. Nobody. If you don't continue your trip on to Easter then there's no real reason to have visited Lent in the first place.
Part of my excitement lies in wondering what Easter miracles are about to unfold in my life. I am poised and ready for some known transitional changes of sorts, and it's refreshing to be in a space again where there is an influx of positive energy towards whatever it is that will unfold in my life in the days ahead.
Of course, we still have to journey through Holy Week itself, before we arrive at Easter. You can't get to the Easter Resurrection without going through the cross event. This very week is the most dramatic part of the Jesus story, and, as my pastor commented this morning, it is in Holy Week that we "enter the deepest mysteries of God's love for us." And this brings me to the topic of my next post: what my Lenten journey this year has taught me about love.
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