When I was growing up, I kept hearing a song called, I believe, “Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.” At least those words made a line in the song, whether or not that’s the title of it. I thought a lot about that song the other day during the Blizzard of 2011.
When I looked out my window at 10:30 that morning and saw some snowflakes in the air I thought, Well, it’s beginning.
When I looked out my window at 12:00 noon I thought, Okay, we’re settling in for the long haul.
But when I looked out my window at 1:30 I thought, Boy, am I glad I didn’t go to work today!
The storm developed much more rapidly than I could have expected, by 2:00 it was well established, and it only grew stronger and nastier throughout the afternoon. Some of my neighbors gathered in the community room downstairs and watched through the picture window. I, hermit that I am, stayed in my apartment and watched it from there. By dark, you couldn’t see much out of the window wherever you were watching the storm.
You really could call it a howling blizzard. The wind was blowing so hard that the snow fell horizontally, not vertically. And it was so thick that I could just make out the flag dancing and snapping around in the winds. The houses across the street were pretty visible, but beyond them the view was blurred.
I watched it and marveled. Truly, I was filled with gratitude that I wasn’t out in that storm. I wasn’t homeless. I wasn’t holding a job that forced me to be out in it. I could stay safe and snug in my tiny apartment. And I remained safe and snug because we didn’t lose our electricity.
One thing we can do in response to such a storm is take a moment to remember our blessings, and we all had ample opportunity to do that. I took full advantage of that opportunity as I watched the snow piling up on the ground below my fourth-floor windows.
And once again I was reminded how puny we humans really are. We have built all these marvels—highways, railroads, airports, machines to roll on the roads and rumble on the rails and soar through the air, power grids, telephone systems…All Mother Nature has to do is twitch, and we are paralyzed. We would really be in for it if Mother Nature fully unleashed her energy against us.
So I concluded that another response we can make in such a blizzard is to allow the fury of Mother Nature to humble us, to show us the true perspective of our achievements. I am not putting down our achievements; we have come a long way in the last couple of centuries. However, when all Mother Nature has to do is twitch in order to paralyze us, we need to realize that our achievements are nowhere near permanent.
Perhaps if we could think in terms of working with the natural world, rather than trying to oppose and dominate it, we might be in a stronger position when Mother Nature twitches. It would surely be worth a try.
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nature. Show all posts
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
How to Have an Argument
A friend and I got into a discussion about global warming recently at church, and I am glad because it helped me to clarify my thinking and, at the same time, demonstrated that we really can have civilized disagreements about these issues.
I don’t remember now how it got started. But I said something supportive about global warming, and that was when he interrupted me.
“Well, we are at polar opposites there because I think global warming is a big, fat lie!” He looked straight into my eyes and added, “Who is really in charge of the temperature of the earth anyway?”
My heart sank, because I sensed his answer would be the theistic God that I no longer believe in, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I could get out of this one without really getting into an argument. Global warming is a safer argument in church than your interpretation of God! (Even if we do each have our own interpretation of God, mine is off the charts in a farm town. Fewer people are more conservative than farmers.) “That’s okay,” I said, “but then how do you explain the melting glaciers? How do you explain the fact that when they talk about the 10 hottest years or summers in the last 100 years of record, around half of them are in the last 15 or 20 years?”
He went on to explain his belief that the earth’s temperature has always fluctuated and it is just doing that now. And “they” will slap the taxes on us to fight global warming when human beings have absolutely no control of global temperature. And all this debating will achieve is to throw a lot of money at the problem without doing anything to solve it. (I can’t deny that is often the way these things turn out!) He thinks that, while the earth may be warming, God is in control and man can’t do anything about it.
So what he really doubts isn’t the warming itself, but the belief that we cause it and can do something about stopping it.
At that point I sensed the beginnings of common beliefs, and I was able to proceed with an open mind. “I will agree that no one really knows what is causing the warming,” I replied, “and I honestly don’t think anybody really knows if we are the cause or not. But I do think we should do whatever we can.”
That was the point of clarification in my thinking. I believe in global warming, and I think we should do what we can to slow it down (I doubt we can stop it entirely). But whether it is a fact or a myth, there is a real issue underlying it.
“I think the real issue is the environment,” I went on.”We are poisoning our water, our soil, and our air. We have to get that cleaned up. We can’t spoil our home; we have nowhere else to go.”
My friend, a farmer, agreed entirely that the environment is the real issue. We spent a few minutes agreeing on various aspects of that, and then went off toward the parlor, and he was saying, “Now, see? We found common things.”
I grinned. “Of course, you’re either a bad American or a bad Christian because you disagree with me. And that is the kind of talk we need to get rid of. People should be able to have civilized disagreements.”
“I agree wholeheartedly!”
That is the way to have an argument. Try to be open-minded, try to have respect for the other (not hard in this case, I think the world of this man and his wife), and find the things that are common. You might even learn something. What I learned is this: While I do believe global warming is a genuine issue, the total environmental picture is the issue I’m really concerned about, and whether the globe is warming or not, whether we can do anything about it or not, we still need to be cleaning up our pollution.
When I saw this friend at choir practice a couple of days later, we got to talking about our conversation on Sunday, and it turned out that we both had given it a lot of thought. We both concluded it was a very positive and constructive discussion.
Now that is a really spiffy way to have an argument!
I don’t remember now how it got started. But I said something supportive about global warming, and that was when he interrupted me.
“Well, we are at polar opposites there because I think global warming is a big, fat lie!” He looked straight into my eyes and added, “Who is really in charge of the temperature of the earth anyway?”
My heart sank, because I sensed his answer would be the theistic God that I no longer believe in, and I wasn’t entirely sure how I could get out of this one without really getting into an argument. Global warming is a safer argument in church than your interpretation of God! (Even if we do each have our own interpretation of God, mine is off the charts in a farm town. Fewer people are more conservative than farmers.) “That’s okay,” I said, “but then how do you explain the melting glaciers? How do you explain the fact that when they talk about the 10 hottest years or summers in the last 100 years of record, around half of them are in the last 15 or 20 years?”
He went on to explain his belief that the earth’s temperature has always fluctuated and it is just doing that now. And “they” will slap the taxes on us to fight global warming when human beings have absolutely no control of global temperature. And all this debating will achieve is to throw a lot of money at the problem without doing anything to solve it. (I can’t deny that is often the way these things turn out!) He thinks that, while the earth may be warming, God is in control and man can’t do anything about it.
So what he really doubts isn’t the warming itself, but the belief that we cause it and can do something about stopping it.
At that point I sensed the beginnings of common beliefs, and I was able to proceed with an open mind. “I will agree that no one really knows what is causing the warming,” I replied, “and I honestly don’t think anybody really knows if we are the cause or not. But I do think we should do whatever we can.”
That was the point of clarification in my thinking. I believe in global warming, and I think we should do what we can to slow it down (I doubt we can stop it entirely). But whether it is a fact or a myth, there is a real issue underlying it.
“I think the real issue is the environment,” I went on.”We are poisoning our water, our soil, and our air. We have to get that cleaned up. We can’t spoil our home; we have nowhere else to go.”
My friend, a farmer, agreed entirely that the environment is the real issue. We spent a few minutes agreeing on various aspects of that, and then went off toward the parlor, and he was saying, “Now, see? We found common things.”
I grinned. “Of course, you’re either a bad American or a bad Christian because you disagree with me. And that is the kind of talk we need to get rid of. People should be able to have civilized disagreements.”
“I agree wholeheartedly!”
That is the way to have an argument. Try to be open-minded, try to have respect for the other (not hard in this case, I think the world of this man and his wife), and find the things that are common. You might even learn something. What I learned is this: While I do believe global warming is a genuine issue, the total environmental picture is the issue I’m really concerned about, and whether the globe is warming or not, whether we can do anything about it or not, we still need to be cleaning up our pollution.
When I saw this friend at choir practice a couple of days later, we got to talking about our conversation on Sunday, and it turned out that we both had given it a lot of thought. We both concluded it was a very positive and constructive discussion.
Now that is a really spiffy way to have an argument!
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Imaginary Journal Entry
This morning was wonderful. Cold. Not just crisp, but cold, bone-chilling, nose-running cold. Scraping frost off the windows of my car in a brisk wind. Wearing the warmest clothing I possess. You really need to do that when you sit in a warehouse at work.
But it started with last night.
During the Christmas weekend, I was visited by insomnia two nights out of four. Every other night was wakeful. It seemed to be the peak of a trend that has grown more and more obnoxious over the best part of a year.
Last night as bedtime approached I was thrumming with unwanted energy, tired but nowhere near ready to go to bed. I did centering prayer. I went to bed with Taize chants in my head. I was still having trouble getting to sleep and I dreaded the boredom of another sleepless night along with the resulting energy issues at work the next day. (When you have to drive 50-plus miles to get home, you don’t need energy issues at work.) Finally, trying to center, I felt compelled to talk with my Source…and was tongue-tied. No words wanted to come out. After a few moments I resorted to my prayer language, and for several minutes words spewed out of my mouth.
Finally I got to sleep. Slept heavily all night. Slow start this morning.
But I felt wonderful. Some inner work must have been going on in the night because there I was, out on the road on such a cold morning as the sun came up, and I felt so blessed I could hardly stand it. I really do not like being up so early. I love dawn, it is gorgeous and I love to watch the quality of light, but in my opinion it should all be happening at 10:00 am.
This morning it was downright splendid. All that frost on the trees, tall grasses, power lines, gleaming in the pre-dawn light. The golden pre-dawn glow reflected off sheds. The rising sun made the frost on the tops of the trees glow pink. It was a fine morning to be up so early. Somehow, the extra cold just made it more spectacular.
And I mused about lessons regarding surrender. I didn’t cause that to happen with the Christmas Eve duet, but in letting go of it I may have allowed it to happen, somehow. Maybe I’m starting to figure this principle out. Is that why I felt so good this morning? Released? As though something healed in the night, as I slept, after I said those things in my prayer language?
Yes, I know that this job is provision. I truly appreciate the provision. And this morning I realized that I’ve had a number of experiences that I can only call mystical, experiences I’ve never had before. I’ve had a few, yes, but since I began this job I have had several within a comparatively brief period of time. Something about this job, the work, the commuting time – two hours a day for thinking on some level beyond the conscious – something has opened me up to these experiences. Gratitude flooded me as I realized that my job has created this openness in me.
After the layoff last summer, I have continually struggled to accept going back to a job I had left behind in my heart and thoughts. Here is an excellent place to work on surrender. Detaching. Letting go. There is a belief that your thoughts create your reality. I think there’s some truth to that, although I’m not yet convinced that it “explains everything.” I believe the spoken word also plays its part.
But my Source has taught me that as long as I cling to something, especially with any kind of negative thoughts or feelings, I’m holding the thing in place. I have to let go of it, entirely, before it will have any chance to change. Now, with this incident about the duet, I have seen the principle working and providing such prompt results that I can’t possibly miss the connection. The only thing I will desire to hold onto about this job is the openness it has created within me. The rest I can let go of.
So this is grand. I can begin 2010 by applying something I have learned. Often, for me, the learning is the easy part. Applying it is the place where I fall flat on my, well, you know. It’s a lesson I truly feel grateful for. And it gives me a strong, positive way to begin this brand new year.
And what the heck. I have two hours every day, five days a week, of “inner work time.” That ought to help me make some progress.
This looks like an interesting year!
But it started with last night.
During the Christmas weekend, I was visited by insomnia two nights out of four. Every other night was wakeful. It seemed to be the peak of a trend that has grown more and more obnoxious over the best part of a year.
Last night as bedtime approached I was thrumming with unwanted energy, tired but nowhere near ready to go to bed. I did centering prayer. I went to bed with Taize chants in my head. I was still having trouble getting to sleep and I dreaded the boredom of another sleepless night along with the resulting energy issues at work the next day. (When you have to drive 50-plus miles to get home, you don’t need energy issues at work.) Finally, trying to center, I felt compelled to talk with my Source…and was tongue-tied. No words wanted to come out. After a few moments I resorted to my prayer language, and for several minutes words spewed out of my mouth.
Finally I got to sleep. Slept heavily all night. Slow start this morning.
But I felt wonderful. Some inner work must have been going on in the night because there I was, out on the road on such a cold morning as the sun came up, and I felt so blessed I could hardly stand it. I really do not like being up so early. I love dawn, it is gorgeous and I love to watch the quality of light, but in my opinion it should all be happening at 10:00 am.
This morning it was downright splendid. All that frost on the trees, tall grasses, power lines, gleaming in the pre-dawn light. The golden pre-dawn glow reflected off sheds. The rising sun made the frost on the tops of the trees glow pink. It was a fine morning to be up so early. Somehow, the extra cold just made it more spectacular.
And I mused about lessons regarding surrender. I didn’t cause that to happen with the Christmas Eve duet, but in letting go of it I may have allowed it to happen, somehow. Maybe I’m starting to figure this principle out. Is that why I felt so good this morning? Released? As though something healed in the night, as I slept, after I said those things in my prayer language?
Yes, I know that this job is provision. I truly appreciate the provision. And this morning I realized that I’ve had a number of experiences that I can only call mystical, experiences I’ve never had before. I’ve had a few, yes, but since I began this job I have had several within a comparatively brief period of time. Something about this job, the work, the commuting time – two hours a day for thinking on some level beyond the conscious – something has opened me up to these experiences. Gratitude flooded me as I realized that my job has created this openness in me.
After the layoff last summer, I have continually struggled to accept going back to a job I had left behind in my heart and thoughts. Here is an excellent place to work on surrender. Detaching. Letting go. There is a belief that your thoughts create your reality. I think there’s some truth to that, although I’m not yet convinced that it “explains everything.” I believe the spoken word also plays its part.
But my Source has taught me that as long as I cling to something, especially with any kind of negative thoughts or feelings, I’m holding the thing in place. I have to let go of it, entirely, before it will have any chance to change. Now, with this incident about the duet, I have seen the principle working and providing such prompt results that I can’t possibly miss the connection. The only thing I will desire to hold onto about this job is the openness it has created within me. The rest I can let go of.
So this is grand. I can begin 2010 by applying something I have learned. Often, for me, the learning is the easy part. Applying it is the place where I fall flat on my, well, you know. It’s a lesson I truly feel grateful for. And it gives me a strong, positive way to begin this brand new year.
And what the heck. I have two hours every day, five days a week, of “inner work time.” That ought to help me make some progress.
This looks like an interesting year!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Slice Of Life: Sunday By the Spoon
Usually my Sundays have a fixed routine. Church and Sunday school in the morning, prayer journaling in the afternoon, followed by cooking the entrée and vegetables for taking to work during the week. It fills my day, involves me in some relatively creative manual work, and allows me a generous amount of time to spend with my Source. It is essential that I keep in close contact with the Source of my life, so this is a commitment. I guard this time so jealously that an act of Congress is required before I skip it, and then only if I can do it some evening during the week.
It took me by surprise, therefore, when I decided recently to vary that routine.
I live in an area that has a small body of water called the Spoon River running through it. It would be totally unknown, in fact, if Edger Lee Masters hadn’t written the Spoon River Anthology. It is a small river, not very wide, not very long, with many small towns and villages on or close to its banks. The first two weekends in October are given over to something called the Scenic Drive, which features the towns along the river, fall foliage colors, craft fairs and food booths of many descriptions.
This year we had a streak of cloudy, rainy, unseasonably chilly weather for the Scenic Drive. There was only one really nice day to go to it, the Sunday of the first weekend in October. It was a perfect fall afternoon, clear blue sky with a few swirls and puffs of white cloud, mild in the sunlight but somewhat cool in the shade. There are always a number of places to decide on, but this year I wanted to go to a village close by me and take a look at the wares that were displayed. It felt at first like a rationalization when I decided to put off the prayer journaling until an evening during the week just so I could go on an outing, but the perfection of the day beckoned me.
When I got to the village, I grabbed a good parking place actually on the riverbank, in the paved area where boaters put their boats into the water. Just across the river was the town. I parked, walked across the bridge, and the first thing I saw was a booth advertising fresh fudge. Right away, I was glad I had come!
I wandered through the small downtown of the village. Well, it is small, but it holds a lot of booths every year. I saw sweaters, sweatshirts, kitchen towels, scarves, hats, jackets, blankets. There were metal things. There were wooden things. There were even fake electric guitars to be used as decorations. I admired home-grown squashes and tomatoes and nuts. My mouth watered as I looked at homemade jams, pies, local grown honey, homemade noodles and breads. Then there was food and drink to enjoy on the spot, lemonade, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hot dogs, sausages, nachos, tacos, popcorn. I purchased a taco as I wandered, and enjoyed trying to walk and eat at the same time.
And of course there were the people. Short ones, tall ones, stout ones, thin ones. With high voices, with deep voices, with nasal voices, with rich voices. With children. With dogs. Some, like me, wore a sweatshirt. Others had on jackets or sweaters. Several wore T-shirts.
When I finally turned back toward the bridge, my way took me by an entertainer who sang fairly interesting songs and told excessively corny jokes. The jokes were so bad that I really couldn’t help laughing at them. And on my last stop out of town, I dropped by that fudge booth and bought some fudge to take home.
There was one more stop. As I crossed the bridge again I stopped to enjoy the delightful view of the rounded hills, the surrounding farms, the houses and barns, the yellows and browns of ripe crops under the blue sky. I said to myself, “My gosh, this is so beautiful.” And then I realized. I had postponed my prayer journaling for this outing, but I had not neglected my Creator. He was of course in the beauty of the day and the ripening crops and the sunshine and the breeze. He was in the people I had seen, and the fruits of creation included the fruits of our creation, the foods and gadgets on display, for any creative act is generated by His creative energy. We too are the creation, and we too generate fruits of creation. I had spent all this time enjoying the creation with its Creator.
Two hours of prayer journaling wouldn’t have pointed that out to me as vividly as that moment on the bridge. I swung into my car, unwrapped the fudge, took a bite out of it, and headed for home.
It took me by surprise, therefore, when I decided recently to vary that routine.
I live in an area that has a small body of water called the Spoon River running through it. It would be totally unknown, in fact, if Edger Lee Masters hadn’t written the Spoon River Anthology. It is a small river, not very wide, not very long, with many small towns and villages on or close to its banks. The first two weekends in October are given over to something called the Scenic Drive, which features the towns along the river, fall foliage colors, craft fairs and food booths of many descriptions.
This year we had a streak of cloudy, rainy, unseasonably chilly weather for the Scenic Drive. There was only one really nice day to go to it, the Sunday of the first weekend in October. It was a perfect fall afternoon, clear blue sky with a few swirls and puffs of white cloud, mild in the sunlight but somewhat cool in the shade. There are always a number of places to decide on, but this year I wanted to go to a village close by me and take a look at the wares that were displayed. It felt at first like a rationalization when I decided to put off the prayer journaling until an evening during the week just so I could go on an outing, but the perfection of the day beckoned me.
When I got to the village, I grabbed a good parking place actually on the riverbank, in the paved area where boaters put their boats into the water. Just across the river was the town. I parked, walked across the bridge, and the first thing I saw was a booth advertising fresh fudge. Right away, I was glad I had come!
I wandered through the small downtown of the village. Well, it is small, but it holds a lot of booths every year. I saw sweaters, sweatshirts, kitchen towels, scarves, hats, jackets, blankets. There were metal things. There were wooden things. There were even fake electric guitars to be used as decorations. I admired home-grown squashes and tomatoes and nuts. My mouth watered as I looked at homemade jams, pies, local grown honey, homemade noodles and breads. Then there was food and drink to enjoy on the spot, lemonade, tea, coffee, hot chocolate, hot dogs, sausages, nachos, tacos, popcorn. I purchased a taco as I wandered, and enjoyed trying to walk and eat at the same time.
And of course there were the people. Short ones, tall ones, stout ones, thin ones. With high voices, with deep voices, with nasal voices, with rich voices. With children. With dogs. Some, like me, wore a sweatshirt. Others had on jackets or sweaters. Several wore T-shirts.
When I finally turned back toward the bridge, my way took me by an entertainer who sang fairly interesting songs and told excessively corny jokes. The jokes were so bad that I really couldn’t help laughing at them. And on my last stop out of town, I dropped by that fudge booth and bought some fudge to take home.
There was one more stop. As I crossed the bridge again I stopped to enjoy the delightful view of the rounded hills, the surrounding farms, the houses and barns, the yellows and browns of ripe crops under the blue sky. I said to myself, “My gosh, this is so beautiful.” And then I realized. I had postponed my prayer journaling for this outing, but I had not neglected my Creator. He was of course in the beauty of the day and the ripening crops and the sunshine and the breeze. He was in the people I had seen, and the fruits of creation included the fruits of our creation, the foods and gadgets on display, for any creative act is generated by His creative energy. We too are the creation, and we too generate fruits of creation. I had spent all this time enjoying the creation with its Creator.
Two hours of prayer journaling wouldn’t have pointed that out to me as vividly as that moment on the bridge. I swung into my car, unwrapped the fudge, took a bite out of it, and headed for home.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
A Scary God or a Loving God? - Part Three
My objections to the conventional teachings begin with the conviction that in the requirement to believe something, someone (I presume the church itself) has imposed a man-made condition on a love which God offers without conditions. So if you encounter a Love that is absolute, unconditional, and extravagant to the point of being ridiculous, and you respond with your own love, there should be an entirely different result. Whatever you believe about God now will be based on love, His for you and yours for Him, and fear will fly out the window never to return. It is impossible to be afraid of that Love.
My objections continue with the conviction that we are not isolated from God; in fact, we are intimately connected to God and each of us is invited to enjoy intimacy with God. Yes, you can enjoy God. The Source of that Love is now the most important thing in your life, and you will gladly give up any habit or “sin” that keeps you from being close to Him.
And my objections also include the realization that God, the Creator, the Universe, whatever name we wish to use for this Being Who loves us so, is humongous. He is vast enough to make all this, a universe so enormous that we can’t even travel from one side of the Milky Way to the other in a few hundred years (and that’s just one galaxy). The universe is vast and complex, full of galaxies and stars and planets, probably including many other planets that have life, and even intelligent life. We are just one rock in this place, one grain of sand on a beach. We cannot possibly grasp the vastness of the universe or the fullness of this Being Who created it. Our religions and theologies have expressed our attempts to understand God, but none can fully explain Him. They are our theories; they are not facts. No one has the right to say that “I am right and you are wrong.” (Yes, that includes me!) No one can truly say that he has the only route to God.
So how does this look in the lives of the people who respond to God by loving Him back?
The belief of being exclusive: People who have a love-based relationship with God will realize that no one really “deserves” being loved like that. The truth of it is that we don’t have to deserve it. The Love is available for everyone. God loves the other guy too, just as He loves you. Nobody is exclusive. Nobody has the “only way” to God. God welcomes all whom He loves. And He loves all of us.
The belief that you are separated from God: You discover that God, the Source of All, is in you and you are in the Source. God was always there. You have just found Him. That’s all. You and God are organic parts of each other, and you cannot be separated. Neither are you separated from other persons, for God is in them as He is in you, and that connects you. It connects us all. It should help us to build bridges to each other, instead of walls against each other.
The belief that you are separated from nature: If God is in all that He has created, then He must be in all living things. It makes supporting environmental cleanup and responsibility another way to love and serve God our Creator. If you weren’t sensitive to these issues before you learned to love God, you will probably become so.
The belief that all your passions (meaning sex) lead to the greatest sins of all: Sex is a physical expression of love, a part of nature. As a part of nature it is not dirty or sinful in itself. We may use it against one another in destructive ways but we are the problem, not sex itself. Our job is to work to eliminate whatever ways we use sex, gender, gender roles, etc. in ways that control or use others. Once we understand that sex is natural and good, and that we ourselves are the problem with it, we can stop being afraid of our bodies and start healing our sexual dysfunctions.
The belief that God punishes you in horrendous ways for your sins: Look, life isn’t easy. It is true that “old age isn’t for sissies.” All the old people we know are tough as nails. But there is no need to whine: “What did I do to deserve this?” We are free to make our mistakes, and we experience the consequences they bring us. But God’s intention is not to punish. Jesus taught, healed, and restored us. If Jesus is truly the revelation of God, then surely God teaches, heals, and restores. Could the Being Who loves you absolutely and unconditionally and extravagantly do anything else? When we ignore His guidance we suffer the natural consequences of our decisions and actions, but God will also help us get through it. It’s better to take the responsibility for your choices and work to make better ones.
One more thing. If we are connected to one another, we should start making greater efforts to get along better. If God is so huge that we can’t grasp anything except one or two very basic things about Him, there is no point in arguing with each other over our theologies or doing anything else that lets our religions get between us. It is time to start serious interfaith dialogue and get busy understanding each other.
I think I can probably summarize all that by saying that I believe entering a love-based relationship with God will not only turn your life inside out, it will turn you inside out. (I know it sounds scary, but believe me, it is worth it.) You will begin to see life and the world more clearly. You will see the kinds of things I have been describing in this post. And that is the first step in working to heal our world. And, not incidentally, ourselves as well.
My objections continue with the conviction that we are not isolated from God; in fact, we are intimately connected to God and each of us is invited to enjoy intimacy with God. Yes, you can enjoy God. The Source of that Love is now the most important thing in your life, and you will gladly give up any habit or “sin” that keeps you from being close to Him.
And my objections also include the realization that God, the Creator, the Universe, whatever name we wish to use for this Being Who loves us so, is humongous. He is vast enough to make all this, a universe so enormous that we can’t even travel from one side of the Milky Way to the other in a few hundred years (and that’s just one galaxy). The universe is vast and complex, full of galaxies and stars and planets, probably including many other planets that have life, and even intelligent life. We are just one rock in this place, one grain of sand on a beach. We cannot possibly grasp the vastness of the universe or the fullness of this Being Who created it. Our religions and theologies have expressed our attempts to understand God, but none can fully explain Him. They are our theories; they are not facts. No one has the right to say that “I am right and you are wrong.” (Yes, that includes me!) No one can truly say that he has the only route to God.
So how does this look in the lives of the people who respond to God by loving Him back?
The belief of being exclusive: People who have a love-based relationship with God will realize that no one really “deserves” being loved like that. The truth of it is that we don’t have to deserve it. The Love is available for everyone. God loves the other guy too, just as He loves you. Nobody is exclusive. Nobody has the “only way” to God. God welcomes all whom He loves. And He loves all of us.
The belief that you are separated from God: You discover that God, the Source of All, is in you and you are in the Source. God was always there. You have just found Him. That’s all. You and God are organic parts of each other, and you cannot be separated. Neither are you separated from other persons, for God is in them as He is in you, and that connects you. It connects us all. It should help us to build bridges to each other, instead of walls against each other.
The belief that you are separated from nature: If God is in all that He has created, then He must be in all living things. It makes supporting environmental cleanup and responsibility another way to love and serve God our Creator. If you weren’t sensitive to these issues before you learned to love God, you will probably become so.
The belief that all your passions (meaning sex) lead to the greatest sins of all: Sex is a physical expression of love, a part of nature. As a part of nature it is not dirty or sinful in itself. We may use it against one another in destructive ways but we are the problem, not sex itself. Our job is to work to eliminate whatever ways we use sex, gender, gender roles, etc. in ways that control or use others. Once we understand that sex is natural and good, and that we ourselves are the problem with it, we can stop being afraid of our bodies and start healing our sexual dysfunctions.
The belief that God punishes you in horrendous ways for your sins: Look, life isn’t easy. It is true that “old age isn’t for sissies.” All the old people we know are tough as nails. But there is no need to whine: “What did I do to deserve this?” We are free to make our mistakes, and we experience the consequences they bring us. But God’s intention is not to punish. Jesus taught, healed, and restored us. If Jesus is truly the revelation of God, then surely God teaches, heals, and restores. Could the Being Who loves you absolutely and unconditionally and extravagantly do anything else? When we ignore His guidance we suffer the natural consequences of our decisions and actions, but God will also help us get through it. It’s better to take the responsibility for your choices and work to make better ones.
One more thing. If we are connected to one another, we should start making greater efforts to get along better. If God is so huge that we can’t grasp anything except one or two very basic things about Him, there is no point in arguing with each other over our theologies or doing anything else that lets our religions get between us. It is time to start serious interfaith dialogue and get busy understanding each other.
I think I can probably summarize all that by saying that I believe entering a love-based relationship with God will not only turn your life inside out, it will turn you inside out. (I know it sounds scary, but believe me, it is worth it.) You will begin to see life and the world more clearly. You will see the kinds of things I have been describing in this post. And that is the first step in working to heal our world. And, not incidentally, ourselves as well.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Finding Gold In a Long Commute
Recently I was laid off from the job that I had held for 13 months. It took me some 18 months to find that job, not including a period of waiting after another job didn’t work out. I had felt financially stable, finally, and I was beginning to get some debts paid off. It was a good feeling.
Then the shoe dropped. Shoe, heck. Felt like Paul Bunyan’s heaviest boot!
I was surprised at how quickly I adjusted. Of course there was no job, no income, no certainty about the future. (They said I would be one of the first to be called back, but I can’t wait for six months and it will probably be that long.)
But also there was no getting up at 5:00 a.m., no 100-mile round trip every day on top of 8 hours spent typing, no more driving east at sunrise and west at sunset, no more reading minuscule print off product packaging, no more typing Spanish text…OK. There are things I can like about this. That’s good.
So let me think a little about that 100-mile round trip. I was literally adding 500 miles to my odometer every week. That’s 2,000 miles in one month. It was a lot of wear and tear on my car which, fortunately, was fairly new when I got this job.
Over those 13 months, I had time to watch each season in detail – the crops ripening in the summer heat, farmers harvesting during the autumn as the colors changed, the austere beauty of a winter sunset over a field full of snow, the challenge of driving in sleet and snow storms, and of course the new greening as the world came back to life, and the planting of the new crops.
There was time to think about the seasons, about the Creator of all things, about myself and the growth I felt going on within me. And I have to conclude that it was a remarkable year. Some really odd things happened to me during the year that I put 100 miles on my car every day.
There were several unitive moments – times when the world and life somehow seemed so beautiful that I couldn’t bear it. For instance there was the day last fall as I was driving home, enjoying the perfectly clear deep blue sky, bright sunshine, vivid colors, crops ripe in the fields and farmers working in clouds of dust to harvest them. It was, for several minutes, so beautiful that I wept briefly. There was another moment like that a few weeks ago as I waded through the crowds leaving the park after the Fourth of July band concert and fireworks display. There were others. These two were among the most vivid.
Then there was the boil-water order I found one day last summer when I got home from work. My job was close to a Wal-Mart, and I decided that instead of depending on boiling water I’d buy some bottled water the next day. (There wasn’t any left in town by the time I got home.) So the next day I went into the Wal-Mart, a store I had never been in before, and I had no idea where the beverages were. The usual greeter wasn’t around, and I wondered who could direct me. It was only a few seconds later that a man came steaming past me into the store, pushing a noisy shopping cart full of empty plastic jugs. Supposing that he intended to fill them with water, I followed him and he led me right to my destination. It was the timing of his appearance that made me see the incident as, well, not a coincidence.
And one day I was struggling with low blood sugar, at the end of the work day, and faced driving home at a time when I really wasn’t well. I prayed that somehow I would get home safely. Now I make a habit of driving 55 mph, which is the posted speed limit on the two-lane highways in my state. Everybody who comes up behind me passes me as soon as they get a chance. That day, however, there was a series of drivers who would come up behind me on each leg of my journey home. When one turned off, another would come along in a couple of miles. I was followed all the way into my home town. On a day when I had asked for help, not one of those drivers passed me. Again, I didn’t think that was a coincidence.
You see what I mean? Things that don’t normally happen to me were happening. Maybe it was partly a matter of me being more aware of what went on around me. But that doesn’t explain the afternoon at work when, for just a split second, it seemed that I was standing behind my chair and looking at the back of my head. It was over so quickly that it could have been just a figment of imagination. But I was flooded with emotions and sensations that clearly were not imaginary. It had been a true out-of-body experience. For a tiny fraction of a second I had been something more than I normally am, larger, more confident, stronger, more joyous. It was a true mystical experience. I can prove it…because to this day I can’t really describe those feelings; my description is only a guess. And probably the only truth we know about such experiences is that they are indescribable.
So all that driving was worth it, because it opened me up to new levels of perception and sensitivity. And that is what I need the most, after all. I’m working on this current unemployment situation from the inside out, and I’ll need all the perception and sensitivity I can muster.
Then the shoe dropped. Shoe, heck. Felt like Paul Bunyan’s heaviest boot!
I was surprised at how quickly I adjusted. Of course there was no job, no income, no certainty about the future. (They said I would be one of the first to be called back, but I can’t wait for six months and it will probably be that long.)
But also there was no getting up at 5:00 a.m., no 100-mile round trip every day on top of 8 hours spent typing, no more driving east at sunrise and west at sunset, no more reading minuscule print off product packaging, no more typing Spanish text…OK. There are things I can like about this. That’s good.
So let me think a little about that 100-mile round trip. I was literally adding 500 miles to my odometer every week. That’s 2,000 miles in one month. It was a lot of wear and tear on my car which, fortunately, was fairly new when I got this job.
Over those 13 months, I had time to watch each season in detail – the crops ripening in the summer heat, farmers harvesting during the autumn as the colors changed, the austere beauty of a winter sunset over a field full of snow, the challenge of driving in sleet and snow storms, and of course the new greening as the world came back to life, and the planting of the new crops.
There was time to think about the seasons, about the Creator of all things, about myself and the growth I felt going on within me. And I have to conclude that it was a remarkable year. Some really odd things happened to me during the year that I put 100 miles on my car every day.
There were several unitive moments – times when the world and life somehow seemed so beautiful that I couldn’t bear it. For instance there was the day last fall as I was driving home, enjoying the perfectly clear deep blue sky, bright sunshine, vivid colors, crops ripe in the fields and farmers working in clouds of dust to harvest them. It was, for several minutes, so beautiful that I wept briefly. There was another moment like that a few weeks ago as I waded through the crowds leaving the park after the Fourth of July band concert and fireworks display. There were others. These two were among the most vivid.
Then there was the boil-water order I found one day last summer when I got home from work. My job was close to a Wal-Mart, and I decided that instead of depending on boiling water I’d buy some bottled water the next day. (There wasn’t any left in town by the time I got home.) So the next day I went into the Wal-Mart, a store I had never been in before, and I had no idea where the beverages were. The usual greeter wasn’t around, and I wondered who could direct me. It was only a few seconds later that a man came steaming past me into the store, pushing a noisy shopping cart full of empty plastic jugs. Supposing that he intended to fill them with water, I followed him and he led me right to my destination. It was the timing of his appearance that made me see the incident as, well, not a coincidence.
And one day I was struggling with low blood sugar, at the end of the work day, and faced driving home at a time when I really wasn’t well. I prayed that somehow I would get home safely. Now I make a habit of driving 55 mph, which is the posted speed limit on the two-lane highways in my state. Everybody who comes up behind me passes me as soon as they get a chance. That day, however, there was a series of drivers who would come up behind me on each leg of my journey home. When one turned off, another would come along in a couple of miles. I was followed all the way into my home town. On a day when I had asked for help, not one of those drivers passed me. Again, I didn’t think that was a coincidence.
You see what I mean? Things that don’t normally happen to me were happening. Maybe it was partly a matter of me being more aware of what went on around me. But that doesn’t explain the afternoon at work when, for just a split second, it seemed that I was standing behind my chair and looking at the back of my head. It was over so quickly that it could have been just a figment of imagination. But I was flooded with emotions and sensations that clearly were not imaginary. It had been a true out-of-body experience. For a tiny fraction of a second I had been something more than I normally am, larger, more confident, stronger, more joyous. It was a true mystical experience. I can prove it…because to this day I can’t really describe those feelings; my description is only a guess. And probably the only truth we know about such experiences is that they are indescribable.
So all that driving was worth it, because it opened me up to new levels of perception and sensitivity. And that is what I need the most, after all. I’m working on this current unemployment situation from the inside out, and I’ll need all the perception and sensitivity I can muster.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Calendar: March 17
While the rice is cooking, I will ponder this quote from the Dalai Lama: "In children, we find what is natural to be the human character. But as they grow up, they develop a lot of conditioning and wrong attitudes."
Aren't children something else? Frank. Honest. Trusting almost to a fault. Innocent. Spontaneous. Fulf of wonder and awe as they see this world, fascination with animals especially. And music. Children seem naturally drawn to music. They are creative with pencils and crayons too.
What in the world do we do to our children?
Have you noticed? When do they lose the wonder of the natural world? When do they lose that spontaneity? We have to train them for their own safety to be wary of strangers, and that is sad. And what about creativity? When did rules come into it? I'm not kidding. I've had piano students, beginners, eight years old mind you; when I asked them to make up a tune on just three notes, they were afraid to. What if it was wrong? Generally I would manage to coax them into giving it a try, and of course there was nothing wrong. But what has happened to the child who, three or four years before, was bursting with enthusiasm and ideas?
And we have all heard of the "child within." The childlike (not to be confused with childish) element in each of us. It's still there even in adults. I remember a spring afternoon - I won't tell you how old I was, but I was way past the "normal" age to take a volleyball, a low tree branch, and start "dunking" the ball over the branch. I had the time of my life! Most people in creative or artistic fields - I grew up as a music major - manage to remain more in tune with the inner child. It isn't always easy because we are supposed to be grown up. Whatever that means.
Fast-forwarding a number of years, some time later I worked with a young man who clearly did not want to grow up. He was in his mid-twenties, probably, and he thought life should be an endless game. Was he wrong? Or was he right? I've thought a lot about him. Maybe he had a point. I think his main issue was that he did not know when to be serious and when it was time to play.
Is that what the Dalai Lama meant by "wrong" attitudes? That as we grow up we forget to hold onto our inner child?
We do need to be our age. We do take on responsibilities; we don't have to agonize about it, but that is what life seems to be about. But can we choose our responsibilities? Not take on a family before we are ready to? Take jobs that we can like? How can we be "mature" and still enjoy life? How can we be responsible and still have time for the wonder of a glorious sunset, a concert by a mockingbird, the delicate flower petals that open up?
What is it that we do to our children, to ourselves, that we lose the wonder of life itself? One thing I have been working on this past year, though I wasn't thinking of it like this, is the waking up of my inner child. I have been rediscovering the beauty of small moments, taking more time to view sunsets and squirrels chasing each other and birds strutting around in my backyard.
My inner child is awake again. How about yours?
Aren't children something else? Frank. Honest. Trusting almost to a fault. Innocent. Spontaneous. Fulf of wonder and awe as they see this world, fascination with animals especially. And music. Children seem naturally drawn to music. They are creative with pencils and crayons too.
What in the world do we do to our children?
Have you noticed? When do they lose the wonder of the natural world? When do they lose that spontaneity? We have to train them for their own safety to be wary of strangers, and that is sad. And what about creativity? When did rules come into it? I'm not kidding. I've had piano students, beginners, eight years old mind you; when I asked them to make up a tune on just three notes, they were afraid to. What if it was wrong? Generally I would manage to coax them into giving it a try, and of course there was nothing wrong. But what has happened to the child who, three or four years before, was bursting with enthusiasm and ideas?
And we have all heard of the "child within." The childlike (not to be confused with childish) element in each of us. It's still there even in adults. I remember a spring afternoon - I won't tell you how old I was, but I was way past the "normal" age to take a volleyball, a low tree branch, and start "dunking" the ball over the branch. I had the time of my life! Most people in creative or artistic fields - I grew up as a music major - manage to remain more in tune with the inner child. It isn't always easy because we are supposed to be grown up. Whatever that means.
Fast-forwarding a number of years, some time later I worked with a young man who clearly did not want to grow up. He was in his mid-twenties, probably, and he thought life should be an endless game. Was he wrong? Or was he right? I've thought a lot about him. Maybe he had a point. I think his main issue was that he did not know when to be serious and when it was time to play.
Is that what the Dalai Lama meant by "wrong" attitudes? That as we grow up we forget to hold onto our inner child?
We do need to be our age. We do take on responsibilities; we don't have to agonize about it, but that is what life seems to be about. But can we choose our responsibilities? Not take on a family before we are ready to? Take jobs that we can like? How can we be "mature" and still enjoy life? How can we be responsible and still have time for the wonder of a glorious sunset, a concert by a mockingbird, the delicate flower petals that open up?
What is it that we do to our children, to ourselves, that we lose the wonder of life itself? One thing I have been working on this past year, though I wasn't thinking of it like this, is the waking up of my inner child. I have been rediscovering the beauty of small moments, taking more time to view sunsets and squirrels chasing each other and birds strutting around in my backyard.
My inner child is awake again. How about yours?
Monday, March 3, 2008
Calendar: January 14 and February 1
After several weeks in which I became immersed in some Conversations With God books, I am finally back. As I work through some reflections on Walsch's writings, I will probably make some comments here. Today, though, I am going through calendar pages to start cleaning them off my computer desk.
The Dalai Lama quote for January 14 contains the statement that followers of the Buddha should take his life (the Buddha's, not the Dalai Lama's) as a model.
How I wish the Christian church would say that! I believe that one major tenet of Christianity is that Jesus shows God to us. There are a number of Christianity's tenets that give me problems; this one, however, is spot on. Jesus does show God to us.
What, then, does Jesus show us about God? He shows us that God accepts everyone who honestly seeks Him; we don't see stories where Jesus turned people away because they were the wrong color, had the wrong lifestyle, or believed the wrong things. He shows us that God cares about the marginalized; Jesus was normally found among tax collectors and sinners, not in the company of respectable people. He shows us that God would heal us, teach us, help us to live better lives.
Why doesn't the church teach us these things about God? And about how Jesus shows us these things about God? Why do we keep hearing about sin and salvation, about how Jesus is the only way to God, about the threat of hell if we fail to believe that Jesus was the biological son of God?
Those aren't the things Jesus told us about. Those aren't the things Jesus showed in his life.
If we can follow Jesus' teachings and example, loving and helping others, maintaining an intimate relationship with God as he did, we are truly Christians, aren't we? Isn't that what a follower of Jesus would do?
Moving on to another month, the page for February 1 says this: "When I consider the lack of cooperation in human society, I can only conclude that it stems from ignorance of our interdependent nature."
I would add to that, "Nor do we understand the natural world and our relationship to it."
The reason I want to say that is to spell it out: We are part of the natural world. This planet is part of the natural universe, and every living thing on it is part of the natural world. That includes us human beings.
And we had better learn, quickly, that we are interdependent with the rest of the natural world. We are not separate from nature; we cannot dominate it as though it were something external from us. We have dominated it for so long that we are now destroying our environment. Let's be up front about that. Our soil is disappearing, our soil (such as we have left) and air and water are all polluted, our food supply is polluted with chemicals, and every time we turn around there is another warning or news story about something that threatens us. We also have overpopulated the earth; the only reason we aren't standing elbow-to-elbow throughout all the continents is that we, in the absence of natural predators, prey on each other through war (which with today's technology offers more sources of pollution).
There is a theory held by some that the planet has decided we are vermin and must be gotten rid of. That is scary! Is it true? There isn't any way to really know. But we sure have found some awfully weird diseases in the past several years.
Gloom and doom? I hope not. But we need to wake up, stop arguing about non-issues and roll up our shirtsleeves.
A good beginning would be to heed the Dalai Lama's words. We are interdependent. What happens in Iraq affects something that happens in Alaska. What happens in Chicago can affect people in Chile. Let's understand that and become serious about healing our environment.
The Dalai Lama quote for January 14 contains the statement that followers of the Buddha should take his life (the Buddha's, not the Dalai Lama's) as a model.
How I wish the Christian church would say that! I believe that one major tenet of Christianity is that Jesus shows God to us. There are a number of Christianity's tenets that give me problems; this one, however, is spot on. Jesus does show God to us.
What, then, does Jesus show us about God? He shows us that God accepts everyone who honestly seeks Him; we don't see stories where Jesus turned people away because they were the wrong color, had the wrong lifestyle, or believed the wrong things. He shows us that God cares about the marginalized; Jesus was normally found among tax collectors and sinners, not in the company of respectable people. He shows us that God would heal us, teach us, help us to live better lives.
Why doesn't the church teach us these things about God? And about how Jesus shows us these things about God? Why do we keep hearing about sin and salvation, about how Jesus is the only way to God, about the threat of hell if we fail to believe that Jesus was the biological son of God?
Those aren't the things Jesus told us about. Those aren't the things Jesus showed in his life.
If we can follow Jesus' teachings and example, loving and helping others, maintaining an intimate relationship with God as he did, we are truly Christians, aren't we? Isn't that what a follower of Jesus would do?
Moving on to another month, the page for February 1 says this: "When I consider the lack of cooperation in human society, I can only conclude that it stems from ignorance of our interdependent nature."
I would add to that, "Nor do we understand the natural world and our relationship to it."
The reason I want to say that is to spell it out: We are part of the natural world. This planet is part of the natural universe, and every living thing on it is part of the natural world. That includes us human beings.
And we had better learn, quickly, that we are interdependent with the rest of the natural world. We are not separate from nature; we cannot dominate it as though it were something external from us. We have dominated it for so long that we are now destroying our environment. Let's be up front about that. Our soil is disappearing, our soil (such as we have left) and air and water are all polluted, our food supply is polluted with chemicals, and every time we turn around there is another warning or news story about something that threatens us. We also have overpopulated the earth; the only reason we aren't standing elbow-to-elbow throughout all the continents is that we, in the absence of natural predators, prey on each other through war (which with today's technology offers more sources of pollution).
There is a theory held by some that the planet has decided we are vermin and must be gotten rid of. That is scary! Is it true? There isn't any way to really know. But we sure have found some awfully weird diseases in the past several years.
Gloom and doom? I hope not. But we need to wake up, stop arguing about non-issues and roll up our shirtsleeves.
A good beginning would be to heed the Dalai Lama's words. We are interdependent. What happens in Iraq affects something that happens in Alaska. What happens in Chicago can affect people in Chile. Let's understand that and become serious about healing our environment.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Rediscovering "Nature"
In the city, I had little opportunity to notice the natural world. For most of the time that I lived there, I was in one apartment after another. Trees and grassy areas were little green dots scattered amidst concrete and bricks. If I went walking in the neighborhoods, I had opportunity sometimes to watch dogs or cats or even, briefly, peacocks. For a while, a horse grazed across the street from one of my apartments. Even when I lived in a house, the yard was small and bathed in summer sun, and the lone willow I planted did not thrive, and the only natural things I experienced were insects and weeds. Well, I did get addicted to the singing of mockingbirds, but that was about the limit of my enjoyment.
But my goodness! In my home town I have discovered another world! Or should I say I have rediscovered the original world? My backyard is large and shaded by maples. In the past year I have enjoyed the pageant that marches through this yard.
There are squirrels. I have always enjoyed watching squirrels chasing each other up, down, and around trees. How in the world can they dart along such narrow branches or even telephone and power cables? They never seem to fall.
There are rabbits. Small, brown, thin, quick rabbits. The nearby farms have been overrun by coyotes and deer, and the rabbits have come into town. I'm sure the gardeners hate to see them coming, but I haven't yet tired of watching them as, like the squirrels, they chase each other and dodge and just seem to enjoy the act of running.
Oh, yes, the deer. I haven't seen any of them in my backyard, of course, because they are out in the country. So is my sister. I don't remember the occasion now - maybe it was Christmas Eve - but I was driving over to my sister's home, and I got my first close look at deer. There were three of them heading through the field toward the road, and I knew they were going to cross in front of me. I hit the brakes and just sat there, fascinated, as they crossed the road; they would leap and hang frozen in the air for a second, then come down and leap again, and they were across the road in no time. I still see that picture of brown deer silhouetted against gray sky and white snow.
Not to mention the dash of color if a male cardinal happens to be sitting on a tree branch as you drive past.
Oh, yes, birds. Robins and starlings and wrens and woodpeckers and cardinals and I even saw a goldfinch once or twice. In fact, that is what made me want to write this post. We had a series of nasty storms blow through one day last week, dangerously high winds, lots of rain, you name it. A lot of sticks get blown off trees when that happens, and after the excitement was over I was outside starting to play my own version of Pick Up Sticks. I found a bird nest that had been blown out of a tree. I have watched the labor - the bird picking up a piece of grass, the wings straining to lift, the bird flying up to the nest site only to come back for another piece of grass . . . I stared at the little oval on the ground. I could see how the grasses and weeds had been stuck together with mud and formed into this oval. It was just a nest to the birds, but to me it was a marvel. How did the bird form such a neat and perfect shape? It must have sat on the branch and built the nest around itself. And there weren't any manuals; the bird just knew what to do. Isn't this world a marvel?
One of the things I've needed to do, this past year, was to slow down. Internally. Notice the small events of life again. It must be working. Our Creator is in everything, I believe, including that bird as well as the grasses it wove into that oval nest. And I can take the time to find Him (or Her, or It) there.
But my goodness! In my home town I have discovered another world! Or should I say I have rediscovered the original world? My backyard is large and shaded by maples. In the past year I have enjoyed the pageant that marches through this yard.
There are squirrels. I have always enjoyed watching squirrels chasing each other up, down, and around trees. How in the world can they dart along such narrow branches or even telephone and power cables? They never seem to fall.
There are rabbits. Small, brown, thin, quick rabbits. The nearby farms have been overrun by coyotes and deer, and the rabbits have come into town. I'm sure the gardeners hate to see them coming, but I haven't yet tired of watching them as, like the squirrels, they chase each other and dodge and just seem to enjoy the act of running.
Oh, yes, the deer. I haven't seen any of them in my backyard, of course, because they are out in the country. So is my sister. I don't remember the occasion now - maybe it was Christmas Eve - but I was driving over to my sister's home, and I got my first close look at deer. There were three of them heading through the field toward the road, and I knew they were going to cross in front of me. I hit the brakes and just sat there, fascinated, as they crossed the road; they would leap and hang frozen in the air for a second, then come down and leap again, and they were across the road in no time. I still see that picture of brown deer silhouetted against gray sky and white snow.
Not to mention the dash of color if a male cardinal happens to be sitting on a tree branch as you drive past.
Oh, yes, birds. Robins and starlings and wrens and woodpeckers and cardinals and I even saw a goldfinch once or twice. In fact, that is what made me want to write this post. We had a series of nasty storms blow through one day last week, dangerously high winds, lots of rain, you name it. A lot of sticks get blown off trees when that happens, and after the excitement was over I was outside starting to play my own version of Pick Up Sticks. I found a bird nest that had been blown out of a tree. I have watched the labor - the bird picking up a piece of grass, the wings straining to lift, the bird flying up to the nest site only to come back for another piece of grass . . . I stared at the little oval on the ground. I could see how the grasses and weeds had been stuck together with mud and formed into this oval. It was just a nest to the birds, but to me it was a marvel. How did the bird form such a neat and perfect shape? It must have sat on the branch and built the nest around itself. And there weren't any manuals; the bird just knew what to do. Isn't this world a marvel?
One of the things I've needed to do, this past year, was to slow down. Internally. Notice the small events of life again. It must be working. Our Creator is in everything, I believe, including that bird as well as the grasses it wove into that oval nest. And I can take the time to find Him (or Her, or It) there.
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