Sunday something

I'm not sure whether it was the sermon at church about unity or the music at yoga taking us through the flowing motions and Zoe reminding us that we have to create a space in our heart so that when that prayer for peace is answered there's room for the peace or the lemonade stand run by The Girls' School of Austin where I got the most delicious glass of homemade blackberry-grapefruit lemonade... But the world felt incredibly close on Sunday.  As if good really was just around the corner, possible around any bend. In spite of the wars in the world.  In spite of the stress brought on by - well, you name it, whatever it is that is adding stress to your life.  In spite of the ailing environment and the ways in which we continue to hurt it.  Yes, in these little moments the world felt like it might actually survive all of us and our craziness.  And surely if the world can survive that then we can, too. Or at least the little girls who proudly and excitedly gave me my my glass of lemonade made me believe so.

friday quotation

Problems are the the gifts that make us dig out and figure out who we are, what we're made for, and what we're responsible to give back to life.
~ Tony Robbins

(Maybe not only "problems" but detours in our plans or hiccups along the way or difficulties, too...)

friday quotation

Anything one does every day is important and imposing and anywhere one lives is interesting and beautiful. 
~ Gertrude Stein

(full disclosure:  photo is from a friend's garden)

Sunday something

It's all connected.
Our breath in yoga class.  The experience shared sitting in church this morning.  The people milling around the grocery store this afternoon.
And those of us joined together by the emotions of the tragedies of this past week.  In Boston.  In West.  In China.  And so many other places around the globe.  Places that we've never been.  Places that we've never thought about.  People whom we've never met.  And yet we're all joined together by common human emotions.  By the awareness that we're all human and at our core so very alike.  And ultimately connected in that way.
It makes the person with a yoga mat only inches from mine more known than we were moments before.  And it makes a scene from around the world and the face of a stranger look familiar.  It's the invisible thread that connects people and events and places with one another.  It's the reason you can share a story with someone and, in a completely unexpected way, have him or her reply, "I know."  And they do.  Somehow, that is a comfort to me.  That no matter our sadness or happiness or loss or gain or strength or weakness or difference or similarity...we're all connected.  The world.  It's all connected.   

friday quotation

Like many around the world, I'm still sorting through the events of this week.  I'm not sure I'm trying to make sense of them as I doubt my capacity to do that.  But I have found the words of others comforting and helpful.  Naturally, Anne Lamott wrote some words that spoke to my soul...and today I share them with you.

Frederick Buechner wrote, "Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don't be afraid."

But it is hard not to be afraid, isn't it? Some wisdom traditions say that you can't have love and fear at the same time, but I beg to differ. You can be a passionate believer in God, in Goodness, in Divine Mind, and the immortality of the soul, and still be afraid. I'm Exhibit A.

The temptation is to say, as cute little Christians sometimes do, Oh, it will all make sense someday. Great blessings will arise from the tragedy, seeds of new life sown. And I absolutely believe those things, but if it minimizes the terror, it's bullshit.

My understanding is that we have to admit the nightmare, and not pretend that it wasn't heinous and agonizing; not pretend it as something more esoteric. Certain spiritual traditions could say about Hiroshima, Oh, it's the whole world passing away.

Well, I don't know.

I wish I could do what spiritual teachers teach, and get my thoughts into alignment with purer thoughts, so I could see peace and perfection in Hiroshima, in Newton, in Boston. Next time around, I hope to be a cloistered Buddhist. This time, though, I'm just a regular screwed up sad worried faithful human being.

There is amazing love and grace in people's response to the killings. It's like white blood cells pouring in to surround and heal the infection. It just breaks your heart every time, in the good way, where Hope tiptoes in to peer around. For the time being, I am not going to pretend to be spiritually more evolved than I am. I'm keeping things very simple: right foot, left foot, right foot, breathe; telling my stories, and reading yours. I keep thinking about Barry Lopez's wonderful line, "Everyone is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together; stories and compassion."

friday quotation

My life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue
An everlasting vision of the everchanging view
A wondrous woven magic in bits of blue and gold
A tapestry to feel and see, impossible to hold...

Such are the lyrics from a camp favorite (previously made famous by Carole King).  And such were my thoughts as I sat at the funeral of a dear friend's father on Thursday.  Next to another dear friend who had introduced us.  The common thread for us started to unravel with our grandparents way back when...three generations of friendships...more links to other friends.  I smiled thinking of Gran and Jane looking down on Katy and me sitting together at Elizabeth's dad's funeral.  I knew the scene of love and friendship would make them happy.  I also knew that they had been in the incredible host of witnesses that had welcomed Dr. Lawhon home.  And for that, I was grateful.  I'm sure they thought it was too early for him to be joining them.  Or maybe they know so much more than we do now that they don't even question such things.  As I drove back to Austin my heart was sad for Elizabeth and her family...and full of happiness and gratitude for the ways that our lives had been woven together.  A tapestry that was indeed impossible to hold and yet so clear to even the untrained eye in that church on Thursday.  Godspeed, Dr. Lawhon.  May your new paradise be without pain and full of the most perfect peace you've ever known.  (And maybe some Colorado mountains?)  And may that same peace, but the earthly variety, bring comfort to all who love you.  (Oh, and when you see Gran, if you'll give her a hug for me, I'd appreciate it.)     

friday quotation

I found this on in a newsletter that I subscribe to.  It seemed too fitting to not share as my post or the week..

I'm writing this letter to you from my basement office where the tiniest bit of light comes inside from a little window up above. I'm learning over and over again that this is what grace is. That smallest of glimmers that says, "I see you there in all the rubble of your best intentions. I see you in the fallout of your big-hearted failures. I see it all and I have nothing but Love for the scared small parts of you."