Consider the Lilies

Won´ts and Wills

2009-12-04T13:28:00.003-05:00

From RevGals...

List Five things you won't be doing to prepare for Christmas.

Simple!

1. The tin soldiers will remain unpolished
2. The goose is on a diet, but I promise to still put a peso in the old man´s hat.
3. The one horse open sleigh ride is just going to have to wait. Sand in the runners, salt water in the horse´s eyes... not a good scene.
4. The open fires I have seen lately are rubber tires burning, so I´m thinking chestnuts are not an option either.
5. No muzak renditions of wilting holiday wishes here!

Five things I WILL do... (I know, not part of the play, but in the interest of balance...

1. Continue the series of Advent poems I have composed now for ten years.
2. Participate in Navidad en las Calles--Christmas in the Streets...celebrating the holiday with homeless people in Viña del Mar.
3. Light a candle for all those I love and miss...
4. Read the Midnight Mass Isaiah reading (9:1-6) and likely weep. I LOVE that reading.
5. Give thanks for Mystery in the Midst.

Matisse, my camera, and Inner Ah!

2009-12-03T08:10:00.007-05:00

I have never been much for taking photographs. Once I read an article by Alice Walker, author, about the fixed nature of pictures versus the roominess of the written word. It was fascinating and helped me understand why I preferred to write in the place about being in the place rather than take what I assumed would be a static snapshot.

This habit served me well when I went to England with a group of students in 2003. Everywhere we went, I had my notebook and would write first impressions, things I thought important, time of day, weather, where I stood, what I was seeing, what was going on around me. I lost all of the pictures I took in a developing accident, but had this marvelous record that I was able to share with friends.

With that as a preface... several years ago I went to an exhibit of Matisse paintings and the material that inspired the patterns he used within them at the Metropolitan in NYC. A number of things stay with me from that exhibit. One, everyone in the room was smiling. It was a place of joy--to see the brilliant colors, the contrasts, the textures, the play, of threads and patterns and then notice how he encorporated what he experienced in the particular cloth into a certain painting. Another thing I recall is that while I was walking through, I marvelled that I understood what he was doing with colors and textures because I hear the same thing with language! The rub, the blend, the contrast, the pleasure of texture, the evocation of feeling simply by how you place a brushstroke or combination of letters. The intentionality of each element in order to evoke response.

Before coming to Chile, I bought a digital camera. I knew I would need to take pictures and would want to be able to share visuals with friends, so as to invite them in...to virtually tap them on the shoulder and say HEY! Look at THAT! Hey! Doesn´t that tell a story? THIS is part of my daily reality and I wanted you to know it too... Somewhat reluctantly, I bought this camera. Functional, not flashy, no bells or whistles, one button and voila. I knew I would need to remind myself to take pictures and not simply take up my pen and write.

It did not help my motivation that for a while there seemed to be no way to download the photographs I had taken. Why take them to keep them, I thought. If I take them, I want to share them. Funny, that. That thought should have been my first clue...because while I do write for myself, there is also a large part of me that writes knowing that she will share the results with others. Particularly poetry.

Several days ago, I found a way to download those that I have taken so far. A significant help in the motivation to take more. In looking at the snapshots again, I realized that I really must enjoy composing the shots...thinking about the colors, the patterns involved, the shadows and lines. In the days since--now knowing a sure method of sharing what I see--I have walked and walked with my camera in my bag and have found myself truly enjoying putting together a picture--nothing too constructive--perhaps simply putting a leaf against the pattern of a chairseat.

I find it truly satisfying and pleasing and evocative to notice the textures, the angles, the light. It is an unexpected gift, that.

And as I was writing about it this morning, I realized it is not a new interest that is blooming. No, instead it is another way of expressing a long held joy and intuition. That to draw a person in and invite a person out, one must pay attention to silence and spark, to meaning, to context, to movement, to music, and to integrity...

I suppose it is a desire to explore, to probe, to suggest, the fullness of a thing...knowing that in the entering, there is so much more. In that is the Ah!

(In a funny irony, I am not able to upload any to the blog at the moment! Augh!)

Advent I, 2009

2009-11-29T08:05:00.002-05:00

Advent I, 2009

Will it be
like the potent natural urge
of moon and gravity
to loose the sea
and let her praise?

Will it be
like the smooth and traveling warmth
in my hands, my fingers,
when I hold a stone
that has rested with the sun?

Will it be
like light and silence-
the fullness of color,
the fullness of sound,
like the awe of recognition?

c.MperiodPress

Talkin´ Turkey Friday Five

2009-11-20T07:10:00.002-05:00

The Cure

Lying around all day
with some strange new deep blue
weekend funk, I'm not really asleep
when my sister calls
to say she's just hung up
from talking with Aunt Bertha
who is 89 and ill but managing
to take care of Uncle Frank
who is completely bed ridden.
Aunt Bert says
it's snowing there in Arkansas,
on Catfish Lane, and she hasn't been
able to walk out to their mailbox.
She's been suffering
from a bad case of the mulleygrubs.
The cure for the mulleygrubs,
she tells my sister,
is to get up and bake a cake.
If that doesn't do it, put on a red dress.

--Ginger Andrews (from Hurricane Sisters)

So this Friday before Thanksgiving, think about Aunt Bert and how she'll celebrate Thanksgiving! And how about YOU?

1. What is your cure for the "mulleygrubs"?

Cooking or baking for others is always a good one for me. So too a trip to a coffeeshop--a large mug full of something strong, a journal, a seat by the window to look out onto the streets of NYC, a favorite pen, a book, and music in my ears. Another too is simply the courage to say You know what, could I please have a hug?

2. Where will you be for Thanksgiving?

In Reñaca Alto, Chile. No Thanksgiving this year--or next, for that matter, now that I think of it...will be in Rome with an international group of rscj. Ah well. Am glad for the memories I do have and the hope for those to come!

3. What foods will be served? Which are traditional for your family?

Greenbean casserole! Break out the crunchy onions! Mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, turkey, and my Great-Grandmother´s orange date bread--and her Bing Cherry Salad--always served on one leaf of iceberg lettuce. Let´s hear it for the midwest and jello salads!

4. How do you feel about Thanksgiving as a holiday?

Love, love, love it. Love the time cooking in the kitchen with friends, love the smell in the house, love the warmth inside on a cool day outside, the gratefulness, the gathering of people who want to be in one another´s company to share a meal. Favorite memories include using a staircase as extra seating while in grad school and playing wordgames in the kitchen afterward while the whole bunch of us cleaned dishes. Also, learning to make cranberry sauce from scratch from a friend in Louisiana...zesting the orange, the port wine heating, the pop of cranberries as they split and offered up their tangy zing. Can´t forget either, the Thanksgiving around a community member who was dying though still awake and alert. Her bed was in the livingroom and we gathered around her to eat...such laughter, such joy...the passing of food, the passing of life, and gratefulness for all.

5. In this season of Thanksgiving, what are you grateful for?
Too much to contain here, to be certain. I am grateful for what I have learned in life so far, for the people I have met and loved along the way, for those who have loved me, for my sisters, my friends, the opportunities I have had to share what I have been given... for so many many things.

BONUS: Describe Aunt Bert's Thanksgiving.

I can see Aunt Bert remembering that in the bottom drawer of the breakfront where she keeps her dishes, there is the good tablecloth that she has not used for a while. She gets it out, spreads it on the table, and lets the wrinkles settle while she bakes. Then, she thinks about Uncle Frank, lying in his bed, and remembers that somewhere she has a record of music from WWII that they listened to while they were courting. She finds it when she goes to check on the table cloth and looks up to see the photographs of her family on the shelves between books, knickknacks, and some dust that she doesn´t notice anymore. On the edge of a low shelf was a stack of LPs. Finding one that she recognized, she put it on the player and lifted the needle. The dinger rings, she pokes the cake with a knife--clean! And takes out the cake to cool. Meanwhile, she heads to her room--they have had separate rooms now for some time...just easier that way--and finds her red dress, wrapped in plastic from the drycleaner where she took it last Spring--or maybe two seasons ago? It is a little big on her in some places and a little snug in others, but no matter. She slices the cake, puts a piece on a plate and brings the tray to Uncle Frank. Sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, she cuts bites and feeds him one bit at a time, so patiently and carefully. He can hear the music and thinks he might just remember the connection between it and the woman who is offering morsels of warm chocolate cake. Aunt Bert, when Frank has eaten all he can, goes back to the kitchen, pours a glass of milk, cuts another slice or cake, and sits at the table with the now smooth cloth, and watches the snow fall with a smile on her face.

In the beginning...

2009-11-18T08:22:00.002-05:00

The theme of prayer the other night was the question Jesus put to the blind man—What would you have me do for you? The answer was easy for him—I want to see. And so he did, by his faith.

It was an interesting thing to think in what my answer would be—or better, what my answer is, to the same question. And, it came easily to me as well. What would you have me do for you? I would have you write with my life. I want to write more of your story with my life.

And with that came the most marvelous imagery, the most beautiful pictures in my mind and heart. It was something like the wedding feast at Cana, but instead, people gathered around a fire at night, telling stories. All had told one except Jesus, who is laughing and looking deeply as he pokes the embers to stir more flame.

¨There is another tale,¨ he said between the conversations and good spirit…and as people began to realize what he said, they quieted slowly and turned toward him.

¨There is another tale,¨ he said again, ¨But it is not in my bag to bring forth and reveal, though it has its home in me. I know it by twist and surprise, grace and syllable, but again I say, it is not in my bag of stories to spin amidst these sparks and stars. Search your own.¨

Surprised and curious, people unbuckled or untied their purses and satchels, searching for some forgotten hint of the words Jesus might mean.

I folded over the flap of the bag always at my side and slid my hand in as well—moreas a matter of following suit than of hope in finding something new that was not there when I gathered my things for the day in the morning. My fingers touched the familiar edges and shapes lovingly. It was a perfect bag, a comfortable bag, that held all I needed in a day and I kew each ítem in it.

I looked and saw Jesus tilt his head back, pulling the person next to him to his front. Soon, they were both pointing at the stars and marvelling. Then, my fingers went into a far soft corner of my satchel where a coin often likes to hide. There was something new there—smooth and gently curved with a stopper in the top. It fit easily in my palm as I carefully withdrew my hand.

I lifted my own head, staring across the spark-lit darkness. This time Jesus was looking at me. And so were the others.

I held the vessel up to the moon and starlight to see more clearly. As I brought it closer to me, I found myself protecting it almost reverently, as one might the tender first flame of a newly lit candle until it gathers strength.
Jesus passed through the ash and flame, approaching me face to face. His hands wrapped my own for a moment before he moved behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. No one had spoken for several moments.

¨Ink?¨ I asked. I felt him nod gently. My thumbs loosened the cork plug and I tucked it safely in a pocket. That same hand reached again into my bag and found a narrow roll of cloth. Working free what the worn material protected, I brought out a freshly sharpened reed.

I felt Jesus smile and sit down behind me. Others also began to sit, leaning on one another for warmth and the pleasure of close company.

I dipped the reed inside the fine clay bottle and felt the refreshing confidence of river water moving through my being. I smelled lilacs as though I were napping in their branches and oh! A taste filled me entirely! Cinnamon, honey, and clove! The bite of curry, garlic, and pungent, warm, citrus…smoothed with a clean hint of something close to vanilla. The sound of drumming met in my hearing with the calls of birds whose songs were the light for flowers to open! Before my eyes was the very world! People standing shoulder to shoulder, weeping and dancing, people eating, sharing, walking together…

I heard myself sigh in wonder before I spoke. ¨The story I continue is old and true, according to all the faith I have. In the beginning was the Word…¨

La Iglesia del Mar-- The Church of the Sea

2009-11-16T15:21:00.002-05:00

Yesterday morning I went to the iglesia del mar-The Church of the Sea. I sat on the beach and prayed my own version of the rosary and was accompanied by flocks of pelicans cruising in synch. I also learned how to tell which line on the water will become a wave. Before I guessed, but know I know. It changes color just before the lift and surge. The color is from the tidal pull that draws up the silt from the ocean bottom and causes the wave to form. God is good to show me a thing like that. Just the sort of thing I think is cool.

And the sort of thing I need to remember on low spirit days like today. So many people have asked me what it is that I miss most. It is not products or places or even particular people. What I miss is having a friend reasonably near...even near enough for a phonecall that doesn´t break the bank. I am grateful for the technology that allows for virtual connection, but it just is not the same. I have so much to say, so many thoughts, that don´t have a place at the moment.

I am reminded of a question from a movie I saw last summer in Mexico. How do you keep a drop of water from drying? Throw it to the sea.

I need to spend more time in that sancuary, I think.

Mary by the Sea

2009-11-11T07:18:00.002-05:00

Mary By the Sea

It was a question unexpected
while thinking by the sea—

¨Where were you a moment ago?¨

Out far on the mystical assumption of waves
where what the eye no longer sees
is cared for by the sun.
I arrived there, coppery wet
from this font of tidal glory,
full of awe and just a bit of seaweed
caught in a wrinkle of my sleeve.

I went there to pray.

You nodded, and pointed toward a fish
who in the merriment of evening light
seemed to be smiling.
And perhaps that was a wink?

c. MperiodPress

From the Journal

2009-11-10T06:46:00.004-05:00

From the Journal...

I am sitting here listening to the high school chorus practice in the sala de pastoral next door. They sing BEAUTIFULLY... guitar, not piano. Harmonies you could sleep on and from the heart, from the heart. I love listening to them. It reminds me of my kids in other places.

Just returned from reading in English to four year olds and continuing in Spanish the tales of the very small woman who appeared on my thumb one morning while I was walking, sipping my coffee, and looking at the flowers. This time, I told the kids about a group of us going to a Benedictine monastery this past weekend (true--it was lovely) and that the monks sang when they prayed. I went looking for my friend once and she was not to be found. I searched many places and finally found her in the chapel where the monks were singing. SO beautiful was the sound of their voices singing together to praise God, that she was able to float on the musical notes in the air! When I walked in, there she was, floating and sliding and rising on the music while sitting on the useful tree leaf she brings with her everywhere. She had the most wonderful smile on her face when she finally settled back down onto the pew beside me...her eyes were closed...and there were tear droplets on her cheek. I heard her sigh with happiness before she opened her eyes, then she hopped into my hand and we went into lunch.

The other thing that happened recently and that I found fascinating in a way that prompts others to raise their eyebrows and think, ¨Oh, you have waaayyyy too much time on your hands...¨ is that I heard an animal speak in another language for the first time! This monastery was named Lliu-Lliu (zjhew-zjhew). We wondered what kind of name that was and were hypothesizing about its origins as we drove there. We got out of the car and within moments, I said ¨That´s why! Listen!¨and sure enough, the birds that are so present there have a call that is precisely lliu-lliu!
I had always found it interesting that animal sounds are recorded differently in different languages... how your ear can hear either cock-a-doodle-doo or kir-ii-kee-kee, depending on what else your ear has been hearing for your life to date. And that both can be plain as day for those who hear it that way. I had not before considered the influence of culture on sound interpretation, but there you have it as well as in the more affective aspects of a personality and more obvious things like foodways, social norms, etc. Something new to contemplate.

Every day I find myself saying to God, ¨You are so amazing.¨ and ¨Wow, you mean there´s more??¨

La chincha/The Ladybug

2009-11-05T21:09:00.003-05:00

Primero en castellano, luego inglés!
First in Spanish, then English!

De mi diario hoy, 5/11/09
From my journal today, 5/11/09

E acaba de entrar aquí con un regalo para mi--una chincha en su mano. Ella me la pasó a mi mano y después de un rato la salió volando. Quizás un placer muy simple, pero uno que a mi me gustó mucho--especialmente porque ella pensó que tener una chincha en mi mano sería una cosa que me gustaría. Y en ese, ella tuvo razón.

Aquí, ahora, después de la salida de las alumnas, después de la salida de la mayoria de los profe, el silencio viene otra vez... barriendo el polvo de tantos pies saltando y corriendo, dando un masaje a los raíces de los árboles, agradeciendo el sol, y pidiendo la bendición de la luna.

En este silencio hay la promesas del viento de mañana. Los pajaros cantan en su honor, cociendo un hilo de cobre en su capa con tantas bolsillas pequeñas--una por cada estrella. Primero, el silencio las lanza al mar. A la llegada de la luna, la olas ofrecen las estrellas al cielo donde se chispean hasta que los rayos del sol las recogen al amenecer.

---

E {with whom I live} just came in with a present for me--a ladybug in her hand! She passed it to my hand and after a bit, it flew away. Perhaps a simple pleasure, but one that I enjoyed a lot--especially because she thought that having a ladybug crawl on my hand would be something I would enjoy. She was right!

Here, now, after the students have gone, after most of the teachers have gone, the silence comes again... sweeping the dust of so many feet jumping and running, massaging the roots of the trees, thanking the sun, and asking the blessing of the moon.

In this silence are the promises of tomorrow´s wind. The birds sing in its honor, sewing a copper thread through its cape with so many little pockets--one for each star. First, the silence throws them to the sea. At the coming of the moon, the waves offer them to the heavens where they spark and shine until the rays of the sun collect them at dawn.

Things Seen and Heard, 03-11-09

2009-11-03T16:01:00.004-05:00

1. The silver frothed ocean through the green and craggy hills... I was riding in a micro and realized as I was watching the ocean pass by that the hills on the other side were reflected in the same window that provided my view. Both facets of glory were received gratefully in one sense-thirsty stare. It was so very, very, lovely.

2. A seemingly blind man begging on a street corner in perfect English

3. The exquisitely designed fuzzy inside of huge, huge, bean pods and the perfect little cradles that have the beans for dinner nestled within. The beans within the pod are removed, steamed or boiled, and served plain. They are eaten in a variety of ways--my favorite is to remove a tough but ultimately edible husk from the steamed beans, shake salt on the tender, buttery inner bean and pop in the mouth. Sort of like popcorn...

4. Monjita, ven acá, quiero darte un beso. Little/Dear/Sweet Nun, come here, I want to give you a kiss. I turned and there was a kindergartener all set to kiss my cheek...chocolate smeared lips and all.

5. ¿De verdad? Ella vive en su bolsillo? For real? She lives in your pocket? Yet another class of young children have met the verrrryyyy small, shy woman, who landed on my thumb one morning as I was walking and having my coffee. She had a fine and tiny hat on her head, a suitcase in one hand, and a tree leaf in the other. And yes, she happens to live in my pocket. Very shy, you understand... but awfully adventurous to come so far, don´t you think? Wait until you hear some of the other things she has done! I started this story in Grand Coteau and have brought it with me now to both Mexico and Chile... long live the imagination of young children.

Pep-O-Mint

2009-10-30T18:14:00.003-04:00

Friday Five From Rev Gals!!

Dramatic or fairly common - what have been/are your lifesavers:

1) Your lifesaving food/beverage.

Food...two things come to mind. One, remembering the absolute Nirvana of pretzels when I was so very sick once and had lost so much liquid (and salt). Two, peanut butter! When all else fails, there´s nothing like it. You can use it in a sauce, you can use it as a dip (baby carrots swiped through is a personal fave), plop it in your hot oatmeal and stir, or... peanut butter and honey sandwiches. Also goes well along side a scoop of ice cream in lieu of chocolate sauce...or in addition to that chocolate sauce. To add one more, I did recently burst into a grin upon finding peppermint Mentos at an abarrotes near here and promptly bought three rolls.

Beverage...Three are on an even par... Cold water, really cold 2% milk, and strong coffee.

2) Your lifesaving article of clothing.

This one hits home...or in my case, far away from home. What I could bring to Chile was limited. The BEST choice I made was to include a thin, soft, snug-comfy, navy blue fleece. It is soft and comforting in its material, folds down to easily stuffable size, and is just enough of another layer to cut morning fog and chill.

3) Your lifesaving movie/book/tv show/music.

Book....three. Leaves of Grass, Mr. God this is Anna, and The Magnificent Spinster. (I´m not including the Bible because that´s a given)

Movie... Fried Green Tomatoes, Dead Poet´s Society, The Grass Harp

4) Your lifesaving friends

They know who they are. Two of the longest standing...One, I have known for 26 years, since eighth grade, and she did save me in high school. We decided a long time ago that we were in this friendship for life and I will always be grateful for that. She knows me deep down, we can talk about anything, and I know we will be there for each other. The other, I have known for 16 years. She makes me laugh from my toes on up, sings with passion, teaches with passion, cooks up a storm, is silly, and kind, and serious, and wonderful.

5) Your lifesaving moment.

What comes to mind for me is a series of conversations I had a number of years ago when I needed to loose the bonds that held me. The people who heard what I had to say responded with directness, love, generosity, trust, and kindness. I was then and still remain humbled by this. Humbled in awe, not smallness.

Olive a good story

2009-10-29T16:52:00.001-04:00

I was walking down the hill toward where I catch the bus to go home and passed one of the zillion feral dogs that roam around. He was nosing around on the ground and looked like he was eating.

As I approached, I noticed little things littering the sidewalk that looked an awful lot like olive pits. Sure enough, the dog was eating a pile of olves someone had left--but was spitting the pits!! I saw him loll one out with his tongue!

A pit-spitting feral dog... for some reason, I enjoy the dignity of that. I bet he´d know which fork to use when too.

You never know the stories of those who live on the street.

Friday Five from Far Away

2009-10-23T12:04:00.002-04:00

My First Friday Five From Far Away From Where I Was Before! Which is to say, I was in NYC and am now in Chile.

RevGals say...Let's talk about music. Share with us five pieces of music that draw you closer to the Divine, that elevate your mood or take you to your happy place. They might be sung or instrumental, ancient or modern, sacred or popular...whatever touches you.

1. The song raised by a chorus of mockingbirds doing their thing in morning fog while walking to work in southern Louisiana.

2. Mystery by Paul Winter Oh Mystery, you are alive!

3. Salve Regina... oh, this is like rocking me to sleep...I love the waves of it, the up and down fullness that spreads from it...the sort of sound that makes candle flame lengthen and the night deepen down.

4. Gabriel´s Oboe from the movie The Mission. If I was a kite, this music would be my wind.

5. The song Que No Se Ve by Teresa Parodi, an Argentinian folk singer... The song talks about living what you do not see....and the sustenance offered by what is not seen.

Come, Live in the Light...

2009-10-22T08:52:00.000-04:00

Primero en castellano y después en inglés. : )
First in Spanish, and then in English.

De mi diaro de vida
From my journal

21 Octubre 2009

7:05 AM
En el mismo momento que ayer, estoy aquí en mi dormitorio con los sonidos de la casa en la mañana. Bueno, mas que los sonidos, estoy aquí con la vida de la casa como se manifiesta por las mañanas. Me di cuenta, sentando en frente de la ventana con mis pies encima de la mesa, que estoy reconociendo y acostumbràndome a la luz particular de las mañanas en nuestra hogar...su manera de entrar la casa, sus movimientos y iluminaciones. Ahora, después de unas semanas, parece que ella es una amiga mia, acogiéndome y esperándome con ternura y tranquilidad.

Sé donde quiero sentarme o ponerme de pie con mi desayuno porque conozco la luz. Sé unas de sus preferéncias, sus lugares en donde a ella le gusta jugar con los pajaros y flores, los lugares en que ella pinta sin preocupación o delantal. Ella deja los colores caer donde quieren.

Para mi, decir que conozco la luz es decir que estoy reconociendo la gloria de Dios como se la manifiesta en ese momento, en ese lugar; estoy disfrutándola. Y por eso, estoy tan, tan agradecida al fuente y profundidad del misterio santo que ha hecho todo desde su corazón.

At the same time as yesterday, I am here in my bedroom along with the sounds of the house in the morning, Well, more than sounds, I am here with the life of the house as made known in the mornings. I realized, while sitting in front of the window with my feet up on the table, that I am recognizing and coming to know the particular morning light that comes to our home...her way of entering the house, her movements and illuminations. Now, after several weeks, it seems she is a friend...welcoming me and waiting for me with a peaceful calm and tenderness.

I know where I want to sit or stand with my breakfast because I know the light. I know some of the places that she prefers, some of the places where she likes to play with the flowers and the birds, where she likes to paint without worry or an apron. She lets the colors fall wherever they like.

For me, to say that I know something of the light is to say that I am coming to know the glory of God as made manifest in this moment, in this place. I am enjoying it. I am so very grateful to the fountain and depth of the holy mystery who created it all.

Té y pensamientos

2009-10-20T10:34:00.002-04:00

I am in an office of the Pastoral at the moment with a cup of tea. I actually said the Creed this morning while sitting in front of the window that looks out across the street in front of our house. Not that saying the Creed is AT ALL a usual part of my praying, but this morning was the first time I have been able to make it though that much internal English...the first time to say as a whole something I know by heart in English. And better to try something whole and memorized for me...rather than thinking my own thoughts in English, trying to pray in English with my own internal conversation... there are bits and scraps only...then it all either runs into itself in Spanish and English or just plain stops because I can not sort out which one to use. Silence is something to relax into, and I can on occasion, when there is actually a space to be silent! Five people, one bathroom, and one room other than bedrooms, and a highly communitarian style of living that begins at 630 in the morning and goes until 1030 or 11 at night...well, it poses a challenge. Yes, I can stay in my room or go there earlier, but those times in the morning or in the evening are when everyone is there and together...watching ¿Dónde está Elisa?, a ridiculous yet captivating telenovela, or simply having a snack and talking or working on something.

The other thing that I do rather enjoy on a simple, human level, is that every one says good night to one another when they are going to bed and good morning when first seeing one another in the morning. The intention of it, the impulse to greet one another simply because you see one another for the first time after six hours of sleep. Nothing big, just a simple Hola or Buenos. And when you go to bed, it will be six or seven hours until you see one another and here´s hoping you have a good night too.

This reminds me of night prayer at the Benedictine monastery in MA when the abbot prays that all may have a restful night and a peaceful death. At one time, I thought it rather morbid to pray each night for a peaceful death, especially in the same breath as a restful night. But, in a way, it is a sign to me that each new day together is a gift. Should we not see one another again, may it be well for all...and if we do, what a treasure that new day.

As I sit here, writing, watching the students arrive, and enjoying the last sips of tea that could strengthen the weakest of souls, it makes me realize how or why writing is different than the internal dialogue...it comes in and goes out my fingers, if that makes sense. It comes, it goes, there is room for new. When it is just me thinking in head and heart, it gets all swirly. Wild experience.

To each who read CTL, know this brings a smile, a hug, a laugh, and a new spring green leaf from the copihue outside the office.

Two prayers/Dos Oraciones

2009-10-16T08:22:00.002-04:00

Here are two prayers I have recently written. The experiences leading to each one have been unique in my life. Enriching, provoking, questioning, refreshing and frustrating in the way that newness can sometimes be. One of the beautiful things is that I think they sound better in Spanish...and for me, that is something incredible. I prefer the images that are brought to mind with the phrasing and the sounds. Wild, mystical, and amazing, that.

Llevo en mi bolsa al álter de Dios todo que me asombra y me confunde, todas las maravillas y todas mis dudas, traigo ausencia y deseo y necesidad- y con ternurna, con reveréncia, las dejo contigo en la seguridad que mañana mi bolsa otra vez estará llena. Aunque no entiendo lo que estás haciendo en mi, tengo la confianza que será fuerte, suave, y bella.

I bring in my satchel to the altar of God all that delights and confuses, all that brings wonder and all that brings doubt. I bring absence and desire and need--and gently, reverently, I leave them with you knowing that tomorrow, my satchel will again be full. I do not understand what you are making in me, but I have confidence that it will be strong, soft, and beautiful.

----

Cuando cierro mis ojos, veo la oscuridad; si los abro, puedo ver tu corazón. Cuando cierro mis oídos, oigo la soledad; si los abro, puedo oir tus olas, tus rios, y la emoción de la lluvia. Cuando cierro mis manos, puedo protegerme; si las abro, puedo dar y recibir.

Ayúdame estar siempre en la abertura de tu amor.

When I close my eyes, I see the darkness; if I open them, I see your heart. When I close my ears, I hear lonliness; if I open them, I am able to hear your waves, your rivers, and the emotion of the rain. When I close my hands, I can protect myself; if I open them, I am able to give and receive.

Help me to always be in the openness of your love.

Las 10 Convicciones de Damián

2009-10-11T19:24:00.002-04:00

Here are the ten convictions of Damián of Molokai as referenced in the earlier post today...

1. I will fight without ceasing and without discouragement because I believe God is always with me, giving me a hand.

2. I will struggle without fear or rest to build up the reign of God here on earth...but I constantly dream of the radical new world God has promised: heaven.

3. I will always propose giving priority to those who are weaker, those who have been abandoned, and those who are marginalized.

4. I want to be the voice of those who have no voice.

5. I will not find the beauty of a person on the exterior, but rather the interior.

6. I will not judge, nor condemn, nor exclude anyone...from this will come my strength to understand and tend to others.

7. Like Jesus, I want to live my life totally without self-interest, because the one who loses their life for another will be saved in the next.

8. To find the strength to love those excluded, I daily turn to Jesus, looking in his heart for the ardent fountain of divine love.

9. What I fear in life is not poverty, nor sickness nor struggle, but rather the absence of faith, love, and hope.

10. Though the work may be hard and draining, though illness may invade my body, I am the happiest person in the world.

Damien and the Not so Itsy Bitsy

2009-10-11T15:13:00.002-04:00

I had an interesting experience this morning after washing my face in the bathroom. Think about washing your face... no glasses, right? And then you bring the towel up to your face to dry, right? Picture a black dime...inflated to three dimensions. Put eight legs on this chubby dime... THAT is what was on my towel as I brought it up to my face!! The spiders are populous and healthy in this part of Chile, I am told. But there is only one that can kill you...I suppose telling me that was to be some sort of consolation.

It isn't the spider itself so much that bothers me...more the splat-factor. Although, having one that close to my face is a little too intimate an aquaintence, thank you, and I don´t care how big it is.

The day is bright, clean, and beautiful today. And this morning´s laundry is dry on the line. I do enjoy clothes dried outside and brought in all warm from the sun. The big deal in the area, aside from Chile beating Columbia and thus earning a spot in the World Cup in South Africa, is this morning´s canonization of Damien of Molokai. The Los, as the congregation of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary is known here so as to distinguish from El, which is us, have a big presence in these areas and several parishes are dedicated to Damien.

His story is an interesting one and one of his famous writings is The Ten Convictions. My favorite of the ten is What I fear in life is not poverty, not sickness or conflict, but rather the absence of faith, love, and hope. The rest of them are lovely as well.

My day will end with folding the laundry I washed and hung about eight hours ago. There is something pleasing about that sort of circling. To say nothing of clean pyjamas...

de Reñaca

2009-10-05T10:04:00.000-04:00

I write this while sitting in the room of my community's house that serves as everything except kitchen, bathroom, and bedrooms. I can hear dozens of feral dogs barking outside, nothing unusal about that, and smell the instant espresso that many have for their morning wake up. The view from the window on my right includes a neighbor's flag still up from the Fiestas Patrias of 18 September, electric meters, a rose bush in the front yard, lots of dust, and a lemon tree across the street. I have finished with my breakfast, washed the dishes (except my mug of espresso!), straightened my room, and am now catching up on some writing.

I have been to the Sacred Heart School in Reñaca several times already to watch, look, ask, and listen for ways that I might be able to be of help there. As it is a bilingual school, they are quite excited to have someone nearby who is a native speaker and can help the students with their pronunciation. To get to the school via micro, the local public transportation, takes about an hour and a healthy walk. The ride takes you steadily down, closer to the ocean. The house where I live is up in the hills. As you climb up into the hills, the poverty level increases along with the beauty of the view. The saying here is that the most poor have the best view. It is seen as a sort of ironic justice.

Also, I have had a chance to help here in the neighborhood. This past Saturday, a clinic was set up in the parish hall with a doctor, pediatrician, hair dresser, vet, and podiatrist volunteering their time. There was clothing for sale, and breakfast was served to all. Many came and took advantage of the services for their children and themselves, as well as some pets.

I am not at school today, Monday, because it is our weekly day for gathering as a community. People will come home around 12:30, we will have our main meal together, and then someone will have prepared prayer and an activity for us as a community. Responsibility for this rotates--I still have three weeks to figure out what I am doing when it is my turn!

Falling and Springing

2009-09-25T08:31:00.002-04:00

From Rev Gals! It's a Fitting Fall Friday Five for me! Why?

Because it is my favorite season and I leave at 11:45 tonight for nine months in Chile where it is rising Spring. I'll still have access to the Internet and will be chronicling the experience in one way or another. The nine months will be followed by two months back here and then off to Rome for five months with other Religious of the Sacred Heart of Jesus who have been on their international experience. We will make our final vows in January of 2011.

For now, Fall!

1. Share a Fall memory.

Augh, so many. Walks in the woods when I was a child, the SMELL of the leaves, the cool, the soil. Coming back in to a house that smelled good because something was in the oven or on the stove, the clarity of sound as the air cools...

2. Your favorite Fall clothes--(past or present)?

Hands down--kneesocks, jeans, turtleneck, sweatshirt. But, for work--khakis and a corduroy shirt. Soft, snug, just the right temperature.

3. Share a campfire story, song, experience...etc.

Um, not really a campfire story, but I remember lying on my back in a Wyoming fall and looking up to the cosmos with a (detached, naturally) rifle scope of my father's. At that moment, I understood for the first time why it is called the Milky Way. SO stunning, inspiring, freeing, and humbling to look at it all!

4. What is your favorite thing about this time of year?
The feeling of being snug but cool outside and coming in to warm. It's a season for walking and crunching around, a season for beauty! The leaves! Augh!

5. What changes are you anticipating in your life, your church, family...whatever...as the season changes and winter approaches?

Well--my ministry, my community, my continent, my primary language of use, pretty much everything! But, it is rather fitting, actually, that I am headed into Spring for the journey feels much like that--new discovery, new becoming, possibility, revelation...

The Bonus: Fall Food

Three things immediately come to mind-- Chili, homemade vegetable soup (with saltines crushed up on top just before eating), and apple cobbler. Funny how these things are specific in my mind-- not just any old, but those versions specifically created from the recipes used by the women in my family.

Things seen

2009-09-23T17:15:00.004-04:00

I was returning from the post office this afternoon and saw these two little scenes.

The leaves and bright ticket caught me...the arrangement on the sidewalk, yes, but also the components and chance of them being together... where would that ticket take someone who picked it up? Where did it already take someone? Where will the wind lift it next?

The plant is a force of life! Not a smidge of dirt to be found but such a commitment to growth! It boldly puts roots where it can, gripping to the binding force of life in spite of odds and challenges. Go for it, plant. Grow.

Oh. My.

2009-09-22T22:30:00.004-04:00

This is the unsophisticated thought that has been running through my head since picking up my Visa yesterday and realizing that I am actually leaving for Chile on Friday evening and God willing, arriving in Santiago at noon the next day.

I am at once quite mellow and exceedingly wound up. I am filled with a depth of gratitude only surpassed twice in my life. I am both worried that it all won't get done and confident that by the time I go, things will be in place. I feel grounded and free and on various levels aware of the both the gift and cost of that feeling.

This is not a trip I am taking from which I will return to what I had known and been doing. A larger unknown now begins. Chile, back for two months of visiting and rearranging suitcases, Rome for five months of "Probation" and Final Profession, and then...?

Am I ready? Ready for what will be asked? Ready for what will be offered? Ready for what I do not know? Ready for revelation? Ready for encounter and question and awe and silence and loneliness? Ready for others to go their way while I go mine? Because, I am not alone in my journey.

I am blessed tremendously by having others around me who are also making their way. Sometimes we share a map for a while, come to know one another. And you look at one another and say, for now, I need to head over here for a bit. You keep going and we'll circle around again, I am sure. Because, the point of convergence is God. The center drawing us down, the love inviting us onward, the reflection of beauty, the welcome table, the rest and cool drink, the challenge, the laugh, the one who knows all of the constellations.

Somehow, believing that helps make this all the more amazing and all the more real. Because mystery is amazing and mystery is real. Not easy. That's sometimes the way it is and often how discoveries are made....how discoveries are made and revelation happens and fullness becomes.

Stairing

2009-09-18T07:32:00.002-04:00

From RevGals... a most thoughtful Friday Five

Halfway down the stairs
Is a stair
Where I sit.
There isn't any
Other stair
Quite like
It.
I'm not at the bottom,
I'm not at the top;
So this is the stair
Where
I always
Stop.

Halfway up the stairs
Isn't up,
And isn't down.
it isn't in the nursery,
it isn't in the town.
And all sorts of funny thoughts
Run round my head:
"It isn't really
Anywhere!
It's somewhere else
Instead!"

— A. A. Milne
“Halfway Down,” When We Were Very Young

Thinking of your childhood as a stairway, when did you feel (and how did you feel then)

1. at the bottom?

Have to say, I wasn't really aware of being at the bottom. I had no idea what was going on around me, sometimes, but I considered getting out of bed and having a new day ahead of me to read and learn and wonder and explore another stair on the journey. I suppose, though, I felt a certain sense of desperation for that journey. Wanting to experience and know in the bones that what I believed was true--there was more to the world than what I saw and heard around me, that there was a place where I could be and do who and what God had given me as gift and call...and not be alone. There would be others on the staircase with me, to stop sometimes, to look, to comfort and encourage.

2. at the top?

Not there yet--don't expect to be until I'm walking into that most amazing vista with no horizon...

3. halfway?

What a gift! To be able to look back and say wow, I walked THOSE stairs to get here? Those stairs strewn with both obstacles and openings to naviagate? Whoa. To see what I left on those stairs and what/who I brought with me. To be able to look ahead and say WOW! I'm walking those? What will happen? What will I come to know? What views await? What people?

4. At this point in your life, where would you place yourself on your own stairway?

Don't know, really. I'm just walking and looking and saying Wow. A lot. Wow, isn't it amazing and Wow, the tragedy. Stairs don't only go one direction. I know this personally and by familial association.

5. Identify a place for you that "isn't really anywhere" but "somewhere else instead."

Writing, creating, praying space! The loose space where I and the world and God sit together in flow and conversation and being. Love that space.

Upon First Seeing

2009-09-16T09:02:00.003-04:00

For a video of the renovations being done and more info--click here.

This is an excerpt from my journal after first being back in the main Church. I couldn’t find a place to sit that allowed room for the expanse of feeling moving around within me so I went to the back. And then out came the sacramentals of pen and paper… sometimes, you simply must pray.

Wow! Life! Light! Crispness and Clarity! As though I once was blind, but now—ah! The singing we do here these first Sundays feels like it is beginning to seal the work that has been done. New layers of life and living and feeling and glory and humanity’s reality are being offered—in a way, a chrism of praise is being applied to the freshly revealed…
I love that!

The bounce of the feeling in here begs for dancing. I can’t find a place to sit where I am comfortable because there is too much to see… not that I am in constant motion here in the back, but it feels free-er to me to be standing with space around—especially in this “new space” that is Xavier. Which, really, isn’t new, but simply re-awakened. Before, it was like being tucked in under blankets whose warm weight was secure and reassuring. Now, though, that weight has been lifted—much like when one moves from warm slumber into the stretching deep breath of wakefulness. Both feelings are wonderful, though different from one another.

Amen for the new day dawning!

Our Lady of Sorrows

2009-09-15T07:46:00.003-04:00

Today is the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, to whom St. Madeleine Sophie Barat dedicated the Society of the Sacred Heart in a tumultuous time of our history.

May the ones whose hearts have been pierced and yet found life be a source of love, understanding, compassion and consolation in a suffering world.