Canada Saga 2011 - August 28

"As the breath of light awakens color,
May the dawn anoint your eyes with wonder." (John O'Donohue)

 

"The opposite of the "Real" World is not the Unreal World- it's the Kingdom of God." (Father Gregory Boyle)

 

Last Tuesday, I had the opportunity to be an audience of one at Grace's music lesson for piano and voice. I had just picked her up from school, and we were seeing each other for the first time since May.  Children have that lovely whisper of spontaneous grace and presence that many of us ignore, or have hidden so deeply that we don't even realize it's there. In seeming response to one of those moments, she sat down unexpectedly and played Ode To Joy, surprising both her teacher and her Aunt, who was feeling the fullness of that emotion even before the first chords were struck.

 

On the way to her lesson, she had asked me all about Alaska, and I wondered how I could share with her the intensity of Nature's beauty, and the immensity of awe, connection and humility we experience in such Presence.  So my eyes filled with tears of surprise and joy as she sang what she has been practicing for her concert, Colors of the Wind, with the beautiful words that said it all: "I know every rock and tree and creature has a life, has a spirit, has a name." My sister and her mother are doing everything in their power to 'anoint her eyes with wonder,' and to keep her connected to this special 'real' world that escapes us too quickly.

At our last supper aboard-ship, Michael asked each of us at the table how long we thought the 'glow' from Brother David's sessions and our time together would last after the cruise, when we rejoined the 'real' world. This brought immediate responses of laughing and wincing at the prospect of these special moments coming to an end. One of our companions suggested, however, that where we had been over the last seven days was indeed the 'real' world.

 

The challenge now is the same that Christ offers us: to be IN, and not OF, the world that we see unfolding through media and gossip and politics and fear, the boring business of blame, and the busy-ness of everyday trivia. Ultimately we learn that there is no separation between the 'real world,' and the Kingdom of God, if we embrace with compassion and love all that is: the suffering of watching a loved one through a final illness, the anxiety of the hurricane bearing down on my brother and son, the aging of my precious mother, the state of our fragile and beautiful world and country, the joy and tears of listening to Grace sing "You can own the Earth and still, all you'll own is Earth until, you can paint with all the colors of the wind."

Brother David was asked, both on Cortes island and on the cruise, about suffering and violence and evil in the world.  After a poignant moment of silence, he spoke, choosing his words carefully, sharing with us that his reflections on this subject have changed over the years, With a twinkle in his 85 year old eyes, he said that he hoped he would have many more years to grow in his views. He began by saying that we are a very young species, relatively speaking. We are growing and evolving all the time, finding ways to resolve conflicts and be in relationship with each other and our world. We are slowly, painfully, over the millenia, finding what doesn't work - war doesn't work, violence doesn't work, greed and selfishness, exclusivity and separateness do not work. "Evil," he concluded, "is the opportunity for that which is not yet good to emerge, like a mother who looks at her little child, full of mischief, with loving eyes for what will be."

 

"Evil is the opportunity for that which is not yet good to emerge:" said with such assurance, such hope and confidence in the goodness yet in our hearts, to be slowly revealed in the passage of time and experience.

 

I think of his gentle faith-filled words as I speak with my friend, who is loving her husband of 53 years through what may be his final illness. He has told her that God has a plan for everyone; that if this is God's plan in his life, he is ready.  She is deeply touched by the offers from so many: to help, to pray, to be with them.  That common chord that is stroked within each of us in response to the suffering and struggles of others, that place in our heart that cries and feels pain and compassion in the face of evil and violence, that warms to the smile of a child or a loving kindness offered - THAT is the flow of our evolution, and our saving grace as a species. This is our evolution towards the Kingdom of God lived here on earth, through love, the first ingredient, Padre Pio said, in the relief of suffering.

 

The natural response moving in the hearts of those who offer support and assistance to my friend and her husband, that moves in all of us touched by the struggles of others in the face of evil and disaster and pain, is the good that is emerging from our original blessing. Those who experience the suffering allow us to be conduits for the grace that dwells within, and bring us into the circle of compassion and communion. We owe them all a deep and sacred gratitude for unmasking, even for the brief moment of our offers to help, the blessing that we carry so naturally in our hearts and souls.

 

Our trip home has been a strange mixture of illness and enforced quiet, from Michael's post-cruise virus to my Northshore 'crud,' as the triage nurse so professionally called it in the E.R. Thursday night. They were seeing many cases of high fever and sinus symptoms, and while mine lasted only 2 days, between our illnesses, we managed only a very few of the visits we thought we would make. Now the focus is on packing again for our return to Vancouver Island and the final four weeks of the summer.

 

The weather forecast on Tuesday in Qualicum Beach currently calls for a high of 63.  When we leave New Orleans, it will be in the 90's. As we fly through the extremes, we no doubt will be flying over babies being born, love being shared, laughter beginning new friendships, patients being given terminal diagnoses, faith being shattered and spirits soaring in wonder. Through it all, and unbeknownst to them, they will be held in our silent prayers, touched by an unseen grace, as we are held in lovingkindess and the prayers of those we will never meet. The 'real' world is here; the 'real' world is there. Light dawns colors in the heart everywhere. How can our eyes not be anointed with wonder?

YAY GOD

 

Canada Saga 2011 - August 21

"That which we have chosen is given us, and that which we have refused is, also and at the same time, granted us. Ay, that which we have rejected is poured upon us abundantly." (Isak Dinesen, Babette's Feast)

 

"For lack of attention a thousand forms of loveliness elude us every day." (Evelyn Underhill)

 

Last week at this time, we were in Ketchikan, Alaska, walking in a 50 degree drizzle, huddling against each other and bundled against the chill and drizzle to view a park of restored Totem poles. The weather perfectly fit the occasion, and I can't imagine seeing their stark and somber beauty any other way than through the misty veils of cloud and rain. The original materials of these carvings, the guide tells us, were used to allow them to slowly deteriorate and return to Nature, but they were removed from the villages, each bearing a story of clan or history or burial or celebration, and brought here for preservation of a culture that is challenged and proudly surviving.

 

Fast forward through an amazing week, and we are also huddled in now, from the extreme heat and humidity of a Louisiana August day, as Michael recovers from an unfortunate bout of stomach distress, brought on by a ship-board virus, or a bad sandwich at the airport. Either way, we are both happy to just be for a couple of days, catching up on mail and some quiet reading, although missing opportunities to be with our families for the time being, on this very brief interlude before heading back to Vancouver Island.

 

In the meantime, we are allowed the slow processing of some lovely, gentle, and breath-taking experiences of the last week. Before we left the ship, Michael said, "At my age, I don't like to use the word 'never,' but if I had to, I'd say I'd never take another cruise."  And I knew what he meant. It was a sensory overload of bells, whistles, schedules, noise, racing children, food, alcohol, activities, shopping, music, relentless in nature and excess. If an activity wasn't on-going, it was being announced, or we were being left notices about it. While he went to the gym each morning,  I walked the jogging track on the 11th deck, watching black smoke pouring out of the stack, and wondering about the environmental impact and waste onboard. In those moments, I felt the smallness of spirit and heart that come with judgments and preconceptions, and that limit our compassion.

 

Then Brother David's gentle message about gratitude would saturate my awareness.  In that presence, suddenly I saw inter-generational gatherings that would surely imprint memories in families for years to come. Teens walked slowly with aged grandparents, and infants and toddlers were magnets for smiles.The food became a source of gratitude for its abundance and variety, although the diverticulitis limited my tastings - a blessing in disguise, I decided. The staff and entertainers, from 50 different countries, were all earning salaries, with many sending at least part of their wages back home to support families, or paying for tuition. Our small stateroom had a lovely balcony where we could enjoy the sounds of the sea as a lullaby at night, and watch a spectacular moonrise on our last evening. The people in Brother David's "Gratitude" group, as we were known amidst the other conventions onboard, were a diverse group from Austria to Australia, and we were blessed with all of our table companions. It is so easy, with even a minimum of awareness, to be drawn into this state of a 'thousand forms of loveliness," that otherwise elude us.

 

Brother David's talks, held ironically in the room that at night doubled as a disco, were the highlight, of course, for me. Michael came with me to the first one, I think out of curiosity from hearing of the Cortes Island experience, and because there were limited options since we were at sea. We had also been seated at dinner with 6 other people who were attending the talks, and each of us had spoken of our connection to Brother David the evening before. That first talk held Michael's interest enough that he came to all of the other sessions, as well.

 

Once again, the words and expressions and being of this lovely man floated through the ages of his wisdom-gathering effortlessly. His expansion on the theme of being relentlessly grateful for all that we are given encompassed theology, biology, poetry, suffering, evil, illness, joy, and the overall Unknown of the mystics in relation to spirituality and religion today. On the day he spoke of the self, of the mirror-like image of the Divine in each of us, I smiled at a baby slowly crawling up the steps followed by his watchful grandmother. When he came to the top, he looked up and spied his own image in the mirrors of the elevator door.  With complete and utter charming gurgles of delight, he pulled himself up and waddled to the image, hands extended, and joyfully leaned in to press his little cheek against the one smiling back at him.  This, I thought, is how we should perceive ourselves each day - through the grace of Spirit and the awareness of the mystery that lies deeply within. "The veil of things as they seem are drawn back by an Unseen Hand," O'Neill wrote. "Seeing the Secret," Brother David added, "you ARE the secret."

 

Michael said it best when he said that Brother David seemed to be limiting himself to about one percent of his mental and spiritual capacity and wisdom in attempting to share and bring us along with him. We were all hanging on to the sacred kite strings of his spiritual soaring.

 

Of course, in addition to all of this, was the immense beauty of Alaska revealing herself, with fyords, ice melt tumbling down canyons, glaciers and ice-green waters, dotted with crystal aquamarine ice floes. On the morning that we slowly motored into Tracy's Arm, the music was blissfully turned off on the loudspeakers. Waiters with trays of warm mugs of hot chocolate circled the decks, where people were wrapped in woolen blankets and every type of outer gear. Michael and I stood in wonder as the ship made a turn, and we saw in the distance the ice-blue of the glacier, looking like the sea frozen in a rush between two white mountains. There was no sun, but there was a prism through tears from a heart over-flowing, and a deep resonance with all who sing:  "Thy power throughout, the universe displayed!" The soul was already in song before the mind caught up: "How Great Thou Art."

 

On our last night, as we cruised out of Skagway, our table had the panorama window seat to a movie of island mountains, snow-capped and draped in spider web fog, the dim light of an ending day showcasing the fullness of their glory. Some of them seemed to be nothing but tall peaks plunging down into the ocean, inhospitable for living, exquisite for the soul. All eight of us watched as Alaska floated back behind her veil, the hustle and bustle of the dining room also fading in the moment. We realized with deep reverence the wisdom of a truth we had been told earlier that day:

 

"Silence beneath the words is the ultimate dialogue between souls." (Brother David Steindl-Rast)

YAY GOD

Canada Saga 2011 - (sort of) - August 11

"A sense of reverence includes the recognition that one is always in the presence of the sacred...The earth is full of thresholds where beauty awaits the wonder of our gaze." (John O'Donohue)

 "After the ecstasy, the laundry." (Jack Kornfeld)

We are sitting in a non-descript little motel on the outskirts of Seattle, awaiting our Alaskan cruise adventure with Brother David Steindl-Rast, a Benedictine monk and mystic, tomorrow. Our being here has not been without its adventures, including sudden and intense abdominal pain with fever two days ago.  A quick trip to the emergency room confirmed what I thought, and had been treating from the outset: diverticulitis.  Having no pain or fever today, and with meds in hand - along with a great deal of faith - we set sail Friday evening.

 While Michael went golfing and on fishing trips with his friends, for the better part of the last week, I have already had the extreme grace to be in Brother David's presence on the tiny island of Cortes, a one hour drive and two ferry rides from Vancouver Island.  Along with Rupert Sheldrake, a brilliant, cutting edge - and therefore controversial - biologist/scientist/cosmologist, David gave a series of talks that captivated our small group, and held us in an ethereal state of wonder and presence.  I've tried for four days now to share stories with Michael, and capture a small sense of the experience, with little success.

So, as part of the process, and for those who have asked,  I'm copying from the short journal entries I made while in the numinous presence of those days, with the hopes that we can cross somewhat the threshold of that beauty, and gaze in wonder together.

 --"What could I journal that would speak as eloquently as the sky this morning? The panorama from the window of water and islands and layers of clouds shifting and moving creating a gentle overcast light, trees tickled by breezes and heart open in the love that flows from this gentle 85 year old monk, and the magic of Hollyhock on Cortes? So much of this is internal, an eternal response to a Master's touch, through David's presence and words. He is older and frail, with so many around draining him with questions and unspoken yearnings.  He gives so freely, so effortlessly. He tells us to bless with our eyes, and without anyone's noticing, he does this around our circle before each gathering, as he leads us in simple musical rounds. I feel a special grace with his hug at the end of the first session.

 --"Another morning, and the sun rises over the east coast of Cortes and Twin Island - my head, my soul, my heart spins in gratitude, awe, wonder, mystery...Here I sit on an isolated island deep in the mystery of the Pacific Northwest with one of the preeminent cutting edge spiritual biologists, and a mystical sacred carrier of a lineage of holy wisdom. Two of the most intelligent souls and brains on the planet discussing planet-shifting ideas and theologies, but mostly beyond both - Consciousness and the Sacred - eavesdropping on their talks, presented in an intimate workshop setting with 20 of us, sitting in a yurt under Douglas firs and hemlocks, steps away from the straits and channels of water that lead into Desolation Sound, and the ocean. Such an amazing invitation, such hope for the future.

 --"Gifts everywhere. The sailboat ride into Desolation Sound, sitting alone on the bow, my head spinning from the scintillation of the morning session, needing no words for now, just listening to the water stroking the hull, feeling the gentle rise and fall of the boat, watching the panorama of exquisite beauty - 3 dimensional layering of forested islands, peaked hills bathed in bubble mists, and glaciered peaks showered with fragmented sunlight, ribbons of snow crevices streaming down the rocky faces, the sun warm on my face, the temps cool enough to be welcoming. Gift. Gift. Present of the Divine. Presence.

 --"All is suffering," Joseph Campbell says. "And all is bliss."  A baby seal pup cries pitifully, wedged between 2 barnacled rocks on a miniscule island, the destination of an impromptu rowing trip  (impromptu for me. As I'm writing, Rupert walked up and asked if I'd accompany 7 others on a rowing adventure. "Well," I tell him, "I'm really not dressed, don't have the right shoes, don't have the right jacket." For each of my lacks, he counters: "You're dressed fine; Take your shoes off, rowing will warm you," until I have no excuses. "If your biology career doesn't work out for you," I say, "you could be a salesman." I am cold, and wondering why I came. Then it occurs to me that one day I'll be able to say I went rowing with Rupert Sheldrake.) The mother seal swam close by - all of us helpless. If we touched it, the naturalist told us, the parents would abandon it. We had to leave, trusting that Nature would take its course, that it wasn't so tightly wedged, and that the now rising tide would lift, not drown, it. We could only do as Brother David had suggested yesterday, give a blessing with our eyes. Two seals swam with our boat as we left, and we wondered if they were making sure we were gone, or in that anthropomorphic arrogance that is human nature, if they were signaling for help.  The fleeting tho't occurred that we may have even startled it off the rocks by our arrival.

"But we did row away, leaving behind and around it prayers for protection, the graces of the Beneficence that had created it, and carrying with us the image of its beautiful soft grey-spotted head and fear-filled eyes.

 "When the naturalist said the next morning that a kayaker reported mom and pup swimming together later in the day, we all expressed relief. How often the high tide of grace through the prayers and compassion of others lifts us from the tight places of our suffering - and IN our suffering - to a freedom of the soul.

 --"So many gifts. So MANY gifts. The air, the wind, the water,the sounds, the silence - chanting together, singing in rounds, listening to Rupert's English accented recitations of the mysteries of the Cosmos, and Brother David's gentle Austrian recitations of the Cosmic mystery of Divine life.  The eccentric characters for this eclectic retreat were right out of central casting: from the long-haired smoke-throated maintenance man to the Midwest couple from Ohio; from the tiny well-tanned black bear researcher straight from her 600 sq. foot log cabin in western Maine to the couple who had flown from Argentina just to be with Brother David, all in presence, some through experiences of extreme suffering, trusting in the rising tide of wonder that lifted us through our days in the bubble together."

This is such a small part of what the week was about. While listening to Rupert, I was too mesmerized to jot much of anything, trying desperately to hang-on by my mental, emotional and spiritual fingertips as he took us on a dizzying ride through cosmology, philosophy, the fields of morphic resonance, and the humor of God.  From a sense of atheism, his own journey has taken him to the Indian ashram of Father Bede Griffith, also a Benedictine mystic, and back to his own devout practice as an Anglican. The deep respect and curiosity that Rupert and David shared was intimate and precious. On one especially profound afternoon, the light from the openings in the ceiling of the yurt played a halo and an aura around Brother David as he spoke. My friend, Janet, witnessed this from her position across the room, and watched amazed. She shared her observation with him after the session, and his comment was a playful smile and a simple "It's all part of the P. R."

When I tell my 7 year old niece Grace that I love her to the moon and back, she responds: "I love you to infinity!"  Janet says that when she was small, she used to look up at the stars, and wonder what was beyond. She felt that she had gone beyond the stars during our week.  I feel equally that I've danced beyond infinity.With a sense of reverence, we were in the presence of the truly sacred.  I'm overjoyed that Michael will have a small chance to share this humble, grace-filled, joyful Presence now on the cruise.

 I'll leave the final words to Brother David:

 "Everything is FILLED with Divine reality! Everything is Divine, but the Divine goes infinitely beyond everything!"

YAY GOD