Before I had my morning coffee, I glanced at today’s reading … and somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt a nudge. I remembered that I’d once assigned a quick writing practice to the Stepping Stones group that meets at Mount Saviour Monastery weekly, on a week when we observed the life and death of Dr. Martin Luther King.
I asked them.. who do you see today, as the ‘blessed’ ones? And gave them 15 minutes to write. In the silence that followed, all that could be heard was .. tick, tick, tick. And that sound often feels like a countdown to something shattering … and in a way it was.
This was my writing …
Blessed are they with ties that bind
For they shall be rooted
Blessed are they who stare death in the face
For they learn to live in the moment
Blessed are the lonely
for they value community
Blessed are they who face hardships
For they learn to be grow
Blessed are they who face enemies
For they discover who their allies are
Blessed are they who share the little they have
For they will experience abundance
Blessed are they who fall down again and again
for they learn how to get up and begin again
~~~
Then today at Mass, after the reading, the priest mentioned that The Beatitudes can act as stepping stones on our paths to growth.
If you where to write your Beatitudes, what would they be?
Once again, I’m checking in after being nudged by those who wonder why I’ve been silent. I have not been silent, I have simply spent more time putting pencil and paintbrush to paper and canvas, than I have writing words. It is still telling a story, just using a different tool for expression.
Like many others I had days of quarantine and used the time to work on a painting a day, some of which I’ll share in following posts. On this day however, again like many others, I’m revisiting events, insight from the past year.
One of the challenges (meaning out of my control) was the damage done to my garden beds as a result of the removal of dead Ash trees the previous summer. While working on the flower beds I noticed some things growing that I didn’t recognize, or things not where I originally planted them (which could mean I have garden elves). I also noticed things that were damaged or looked dead but that are very much alive… I left it all alone to allow the garden to heal on its own and will asses how to move forward with it this year.
And then there was the issue of the car. It had been damaged in an accident. Much of the damage was visible, but what everyone was curious about, was the gap left by the damaged hood. No one dared to force open the jammed hood until the car was in the shop for fear it couldn’t be closed again. After more than a month wait, the car was repaired, no damage under the hood.
And later … a painting. After much practice at sketching and painting faces, I have found that I’m drawn to figures without facial features. Their expression is in their posture, hands, background, clothing, etc. This painting is one I worked on for a day during isolation, after exploring icons and tutorials. I accidentally grabbed a water solvable pencil instead of my regular HB pencil for the basic sketch and when I applied the water color to it, it smeared into a grey mass. Since it was ruined I decided to explore further. I ended up using acrylic paint, metallics, gesso and more and am quite happy with it.
It occurs to me that this new year is like the garden beds and the damaged car and the ruined painting. There is often more to a story, an accident, than what we first see.
The painting on the right next to another I’m working on …
A friend told me about a project or exercise for Lent that they’d seen online. I didn’t really have a reference for this, but it gave me an idea for doing something similar with a group of friends. In my projects I like to use paint made from common and organic things like coffee, ash, ground pigments. I’d planned to burn some papers, palm leaves, flowers, some that were beginning to crumble. I hoped I’d have a good amount of ash to use for paint. However it was so windy outside that I nixed that plan. Maybe it was because I was in a hurry to leave that it didn’t occur to me to burn these things in my fireplace. In the end, we resorted to using papers.
I have done this type of project in the past. One writes on a board or paper and then covers it up with other papers, paint or other medium. It is done for the purpose of letting go or coping with something difficult. Or for setting intention.
This is one I did a couple of years ago after the loss of someone I cared for as a brother. Instead of writing on a board and covering it up, I wrote on hand painted papers. For this one I painted a background. Then I painted another paper in with red paint.. and wrote on it with a white marker. Another paper I painted pink. I then cut out feather shapes from the papers and arranged them hoping they’d resemble wings. I didn’t turn out as I’d imagined, but it was more about the writing process and working through the intention rather than creating an art piece. The words … love, pure, love… was a description of Mother Teresa. I am a Benedictine Oblate. My oblate name is Sr. Hildegard, thus the added words and images. White dots in my art represent prayers.
Winged Heart
The projects my group worked on had a little different intention since we are in the season of Lent. Again writing was involved. It could be what we need to let go of, what grieves us, etc. Papers where then torn and glued with the beautiful side up, writing hidden as a symbol of leaving it behind.
For mine I used a grey ink color that resembled the color of ashes. I did add the small amount of liquid ash on the bottom. I added just a few lines to indicate the bodice of a colorful dress, maybe one meant to be an Easter dress.
I’ve been nudged by several people, asking if I’m well, wondering why I’ve been so silent, absent. I told them I had decided in November that the following months would not be full of rushing around, shopping, being connected online to everyone and every thing. As much as possible I wanted contact to be with family and friends, community, in person, by phone, or virtually. I wanted to breathe and pray my way through Advent, Christmas, Epiphany. I wanted to focus on moments of joy experienced.
And there were many moments of joy. Some were big, some not so much, and yet if we looked we saw joy.
This weekend was to have been the Knitters Retreat at Mount Saviour Monastery. I believe this would have been the 17th year for this group retreat. For the second year, we have had to cancel it. While we miss gathering, there is joy in knowing we are all well.
And last weekend, great moment of Joy. On Sunday I was witness to the Solemn Profession of two monks. This was not the first time I have been a witness for a monk’s solemn vows, so I knew that the ‘cloud of witnesses’ was an important part of the ceremony. By Friday the weather prediction was not in our favor. Due to rain and ice, roads would be treacherous. I live on a dead end street and so it is usually the last one to be treated in winter. Knowing I would not be able to move my car in the morning, I sent a message to the brothers letting them know I would be there in spirit, if not in person and gave them my blessing.
Sunday morning I received a call from a young man, new to monastery events and feeling the importance of them. He told me to be ready, he was coming to get me. No amount of protesting could convince him not to try. He came, parked as close to my front door as possible, reached out to grab my hand, as I reached to grab his. And we made it back to his car. On the way to the monastery we picked up a couple who have been part of the extended community for more than forty years. We made it to the chapel, and so did a few others. We were greeted with hugs from of one of the monks who would be saying his vows, surprised and happy we were there.
Though there were a lot less people present than usual, there was a sense of a chapel full of witnesses.
A reminder that “For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them”
Where did you find Joy this Season, this week, today?
A few weeks ago, on his blog ‘Sabbath Moment’ terryhershey.com Terry Hershey wrote about Phil’s Camino http://philscamino.com. The story prompted me to look through my images from five years ago in the season of autumn, when I embarked on an similar pilgrimage.
My intention was to walk the Camino De Santiago with my daughter and a few other ‘pilgrims’ to see what I would encounter. Some of the Walk was planned with the help of others who had walked before us, so much of it was decided before we started. We were ready. We doubled checked everything, our travel plans, passports, backpacking gear, maps, contacts, and more. With such careful planning it was thought that little could go wrong. And for the most part it went as planned (let’s not talk about the trip coming home). We only needed to look for signs for what to do or where to go. ‘Only’ does not mean it was easy.
When walking the Camino you are always looking for signs. If you look only for written signs, you will be lost. And if you look only for clearly displayed signs you will be lost. A sign can be the image of a shell, the image of walking stick, images of worn boots, or actual worn boots, worn paths and so on. When you come to a fork in the road or where one path leads to others, you look for a sign. And when it’s not clear, you pause and then go where you feel lead. Doesn’t that sound a lot like everyday life? When the way isn’t clear, you pause, look, pray, seek guidance and go.
We often depended on the help of those we encountered along the way. Four of us spoke Spanish as our first language, and though of different dialects, it made for easier going through Portugal and Spain. Occasionally though, the different dialects made for comical interpretations leaving us to think .. huh? In Portugal I struggled with the language, found it easier to understand written than spoken directions. Even with this advantage of common language, we’d get conflicting directions. At first it was stressful… and then we saw humor and meaning in having to ‘find our way’. We thought we’d stepped away from the daily decision making back home, and yet here we were having to make decisions on the spur of the moment. We saw that we couldn’t plan it all, we simply had to embrace it and live it.
This shell is the one I wore during my pilgrimage, it is similar to those worn by many pilgrims walking the Camino. It represents the many different paths along The Way. When looking for direction we learned the symbol of the shell was one thing to look for when we needed direction.
This sign shows several symbols used to designate a route along The Way.
Here you can see a pile of stones on this type of marker … the stones represent prayers.
And this? This was confusing at first. We learned to ‘read’ this type of sign. It’s points to nearby lodging for pilgrims and also the direction to continue the pilgrimage for those not stopping.
We learned very quickly not to guess which way to go when we came to a crossroads. We’d stop, turn in all directions till we found a clue. I remember thinking that it reminded me of praying in the four directions at dawn. The painted arrows were tricky. They could be on a curb, a post, a building, a large stone, anything. At times local mischief would result in painted arrows pointing in opposite directions. We learned that if we weren’t sure, a few of us would go up a certain way while the others waited. We found that other walkers who’d followed the wrong way would have left an X on a road to indicate it was wrong. We trusted it wasn’t more mischief and turned around. When the day’s plan is for 20 miles till the next lodging, extra miles and time along the wrong path was the last thing needed.
Of this we weren’t sure … was it just a manhole cover or was it an actual directional sign? Having no other idea we went with it and found a sign nearby.
No sign, but near a neighborhood? Look at the houses and you may find a clue you are on the right path.
Or look for a place of business.
And just when we thought we had it all figured out. We found some like this…
Finally, near our destination we encountered this.
If the signs along the way had been this large our walk may have been quicker. However, having to stop and look for clues, talk to people on the way, opened up opportunities for exploration and interaction, taught us to embrace each moment and everything we encountered. These were important lessons we bought home with us. Lessons were learned about Presence and Pathways …
A friend recently saw the inside of the cargo area of my car and commented on the variety of things I have packed in there. I explained that at the beginning of the year I had committed to being open to going with the flow of what each day brings while still tending to things that need care. And I explained that when you try to practice going with whatever comes your way each day, it does help to be a little prepared. Thus walking shoes, garden tools, warm clothing, hats for sun, rain, or cold along with an extra jacket, walking sticks, etc. are things I tend to have with me.
Today was a good example of why it’s good to be prepared. I went to the monastery very early this morning, nicely dressed, to visit with guests one last time before they departed for home and to go to chapel since it was the Feast of St. Hildegard (hildegard being my oblate name). I thought afterwards of meeting with friends and then to have the rest of the morning for creative work and gardening.
Instead, going with the flow I ended up helping with this till noon.
When moving the sheep, the monks often need help so the sheep don’t scatter. That stuff in my car, the old work shoes, the gardening shirt and more, it all came in very handy. The sheep cooperated for the most part, as much as sheep will do. The sky was amazing!!!
I watched a documentary this morning just before I took this photo of one of two Ash trees that will be removed from my home this spring. Both trees were damaged by borers and have been dropping small branches, a danger to the house and so they will be replaced with new trees. Once the tree growing through the opening of the deck we will be able to paint the deck without the fear of falling branches. I am in the process of researching what will grow well and protect the river bank. Meanwhile I will continue to enjoy the antics of the squirrels racing up and down the trees, the many birds, small and very large including hawks, owls, eagles that perch on the branches as they watch the river valley below.
The documentary below is well worth watching. If you are not yet a tree lover, you will be by the time you finish watching the film.
If you remembered to express your love and appreciation for someone this weekend, I applaud you.
If you remembered to express your love and appreciation for someone last week, last month, throughout the year, just because… you thought of them, I am giving you a standing ovation.
Personally I don’t get too excited about Holidays marked on a calendar. Sure I enjoy the gifts (for those who need to know I love dark chocolate) just like everyone else. But, the yellow roses picked out by a friend last week brought me joy all week as the color reminded me of my mother and the scent reminded me of the promise of milder days ahead. And those who called to check on me or who sent me jokes or shared ideas or just chatted, all better than any chocolate given once a year.
So please, especially now, give a loving nudge to those who may be isolated, or suffering an illness or a loss, those who may feel left out of the gift giving, meal sharing, those you care about, be they family, friend, neighbor, anyone, everyone. Do it not just today, but any day…
Today Terry Hershey wrote in Sabbath Moment, about the beauty of imperfection and the art and practice of Kintsugori, the Japanese art of using gold to repair broken pottery. The repaired piece is more beautiful than before it was broken, what I like to refer to as being ‘perfectly imperfect’. Terry’s writing reminded me of the last yearly Keys retreat at Mount Saviour Monastery, in which I led a workshop I titled ‘Broken Open’. As part of our discussion and exploration, the participants repaired broken pieces of pottery using gold as one of the materials.
This is the piece I repaired, choosing not to close it completely. It now holds paintbrushes and sits where I see it daily, a reminder of the meaning.
Perfectly Imperfect or Imperfectly perfect?
And today would have been my father’s birthday. In his last years he suffered from serious illness and it was in his brokenness that I came to know him differently, a blessing out of all the pain. And in a way, the pain caused a crack in my hard shell of protection and anger. It helped me offer forgiveness and caring in a way that brought healing to our relationship.
If you’d like to read Terry’s reflection on the topic of Kintsugori, you can do so here….
Snow, we are getting our share of it today in my corner of NY state. While many people grumble about the cold, and snow, I don’t mind it that much. Icy roads and blizzards I can do without. The postcard worthy snowfall that we are getting today is something I enjoy. I was out for some fresh air and took some photos of my back yard. In the summer, the garden shed is partially hidden by the climbing hydrangea that I transplanted from a previous home. For 8 years it was little more than a few branches, and then it went wild. The birdhouses are almost entirely hidden by the leaves in summer.
The same bareness that let me see the structure of the garden shed also lets me see all the way down to the bridge from the deck. When the trees are leafed out the bridge is hidden from view….
Life is that way too, don’t you think? Like the trees and vines in winter, it’s when things get stripped down that we can see them best.
Perennial Grace 
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