Awesome Flowers

The other day at a meal a group of us talked about the way we sort all our photos on our computers. Some use categories; some use years; some use more specific dates. I use specific dates for the most part. But, I loved hearing one person tell us that a category she uses to organize is simply "Awesome." There were some who also used the category "flowers."

So, in honor of this conversation, here are some awesome flowers from my time in Maine during a visit to Thuya Garden.

This subcategory is Dahlias--one of my favorite flowers:

And file these in the subcategory "Becoming," as I found the same flower in different phases of its life cycle:

(Belle blanche) 

(Zinnia)

(Another Dahlia or two or three)

And, finally, creatures on flowers:

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Two Weeks Later

After a safe return from some wonderful time with family and friends, you can trust that you will be graced with many pictures of my adventures in upcoming posts.

My time in Maine was an embarrassment of riches: good, good people; beautiful, awe-inspiring nature; and delicious, flavorful food.

My friend and I stumbled upon a lovely store one day, and we found a book full of quirky lists. So, my first sharing of my time away is a list of rules from Immaculate Heart College in Los Angeles from the 1960's. The list was written by Corita Kent (at the time Sister Mary Corita) for the art department at the college.

RULE ONE: Find a place you trust, and then try trusting it for awhile.

RULE TWO: General duties of a student — pull everything out of your teacher; pull everything out of your fellow students.

RULE THREE: General duties of a teacher — pull everything out of your students.

RULE FOUR: Consider everything an experiment.

RULE FIVE: Be self-disciplined — this means finding someone wise or smart and choosing to follow them. To be disciplined is to follow in a good way. To be self-disciplined is to follow in a better way.

RULE SIX: Nothing is a mistake. There’s no win and no fail, there’s only make.

RULE SEVEN: The only rule is work. If you work it will lead to something. It’s the people who do all of the work all of the time who eventually catch on to things.

RULE EIGHT: Don’t try to create and analyze at the same time. They’re different processes.

RULE NINE: Be happy whenever you can manage it. Enjoy yourself. It’s lighter than you think.

RULE TEN: “We’re breaking all the rules. Even our own rules. And how do we do that? By leaving plenty of room for X quantities.” (John Cage)

HELPFUL HINTS: Always be around. Come or go to everything. Always go to classes. Read anything you can get your hands on. Look at movies carefully, often. Save everything — it might come in handy later.

I loved stumbling upon some artists in Acadia who came on a painting trip. The particular artist I encountered has been painting for 25 years and is now painting full time. He travels with a group of fellow artists to different locations; when he told me this I said, "What a wonderful way to create community." He said he hadn't thought of it that way. I asked if I could take a picture; he obliged. Community, indeed.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

One Year Later

It seems like many of the quotes and poems I have been reading lately are quintessential summaries of my novitiate experience.

“When God comes into our midst, it is to upset the status quo.” (Kathleen Norris)

Today officially marks one year of God upsetting my status quo. The novitiate has been a time to reflect on some of my patterns, both those that are healthy and those that need some developing (if you will), as I grow in this monastic life. God has certainly swooped in in new ways calling me to a fuller way of being. Though it is often hard to point out growth in the day-to-day, I do trust that I have gentled a bit and learned a lot over the course of this graced year. Here's a poem by Kay Ryan called New Rooms.

The mind must
set itself up
wherever it goes
and it would be
most convenient
to impose its
old rooms—just
tack them up
like an interior
tent. Oh but
the new holes
aren’t where
the windows
went.

As I re-enter "the normal routine" in the upcoming weeks, I will try on this new view that has been building inside me, hoping not to return to those old spaces. I will try to stay attuned to the deep gratitude I have for life and for the beauty that surrounds me, both in nature and in other human beings. Our dear Mary Oliver speaks of this, and I would be remiss if I didn't include a poem of hers as I end an important stage of my life. Long Afternoon At the Edge of Little Sister Pond:

As for life,
I’m humbled,
I’m without words
sufficient to say

how it has been hard as flint,
and soft as a spring pond,
both of these
and over and over,

and long pale afternoons besides,
and so many mysteries
beautiful as eggs in a nest,
still unhatched

though warm and watched over
by something I have never seen –
a tree angel, perhaps,
or a ghost of holiness.

Every day I walk out into the world
to be dazzled, then to be reflective.
It suffices, it is all comfort –
along with human love,

dog love, water love, little-serpent love,
sunburst love, or love for that smallest of birds
flying among the scarlet flowers.
There is hardly time to think about

stopping, and lying down at last
to the long afterlife, to the tenderness
yet to come, when
time will brim over the singular pond, and become forever,

and we will pretend to melt away into the leaves.
As for death,
I can’t wait to be the hummingbird,
can you?

Hummingbirds have been a symbolic animal for me since I entered community, so it was fitting that the image at the top of worship aid for Liturgy this morning was two hummingbirds drinking sweet nectar. What a beautiful day! What a beautiful year! Praise God!

I will be back after I return from some time away visiting family and friends.

Until then...

Let us walk in the holy presence.

(from fineartamerica.com)

O Happy Labor

We used our extended weekend to take a bike ride out to Findley Lake. Elevation gain you might ask? Over 1300 feet! Needless to say, the ride home was much more pleasant.

Here are some snapshots from the journey.

starting out 

gaining momentum

 a rather deceptive gradual, gravel-filled incline that paid off with a lovely lake view

joy after fixing my broken chain...thanks to the able mechanics!

destination: half way: Findley Lake 

nourishing ourselves with nature's bounty on the return trip 

fin.

May all be blessed with work that brings dignity to the human soul.

Let us walk in the holy presence.

Psalmody

O Love, my Beloved,
How powerful is your Name
          in all the earth!
You, whose glory is sung in heaven
     by the angels and saints,
Who with the innocence and
          spontaneity of a child,
Confound those who are mighty
          and proud,
You comfort the unloving and fearful.

When I look up at the heavens,
     at the work of Love's creation,
     at the infinite variety of your Plan,
What is woman that You rejoice in her,
And man that You do delight in him?
     You have made us in your image,
     You fill us with your Love;
You have made us co-creators of
          the earth!
     guardians of the planet!
     to care for all your creatures,
     to tend the land, the sea,
          and the air we breathe;
     all that You have made,
          You have placed in our hands.

O Love, my Beloved,
How powerful is your Name
          in all the earth!

Most of the time I know what I am going to say here a day or two before it's time to write. Today, I had no clue. All day I sort of waited for the lightbulb to go off. I figured I would find a line from a psalm at evening praise and use that, but when we began with Psalm 8 tonight (Nan Merrill's version is above), something else happened. Someone was walking to her prayer seat, and while we were reciting, she was reciting the lines from memory as she walked. How beautiful? One of my favorite things about the monastic life, one so deeply entwined with the psalms, is that this holy poetry becomes a part of us. This moment tonight reminded me of something I just read from Kathleen Norris (Amazing Grace, again):

It interests me to find so little God-talk in monasteries. This sometimes disappoints the more pious (or romantic) candidates who assume that monks spend all their time discussing visions and are shocked to find them evaluating the World Series instead. I suspect that the ample spiritual wisdom to be found in monastic communities comes not from pious chatter but the discipline of the psalmody. Immersing people so completely in poems that speak vividly of the human in relation to the holy seems to serve as a corrective to religious code language.

It is only a month until the baseball playoff season begins, right?! (I know Notre Dame won their opener yesterday! GO IRISH!)

Let us walk in the holy presence.