“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.
Let us walk in the holy presence.
(from fineartamerica.com)
