Three were rising

As I returned from walking our little dog, I looked up between the palm trees and saw the vertical line of three stars that announce the coming of winter. They are called the belt of Orion. This group of stars have been my favorite since childhood. I miss seeing them each evening during late spring, summer and fall, only visible in the very early hours of pre-dawn mornings. They are part of Orion the hunter, not the killer or murderer or dominating male, but the symbol of the man who hunts for food and the lively-hood of his family. This mythological figure is fierce, active, energy filled, radiant, fur covered and rich with nutrients for the male identity. He is part of a vast dialogue that reaches back through human history in stories told around the evening fires, to teach children the lessons of adult responsibilities for family and communities. Stories we have forgotten to tell to our children, so that our nation is filled with adolescent/adults who have not been brought through a healthy initiation into maturity. The fierce male, like Orion, is not aggressive, but intensely motivated by an internalized moral compass and a genuine love of people. So with the onset of winter and the birth of the Christ-child, let us remember the fierce, radiant power that comes from being more fully human. Thank you Orion for rising again this year and reminding me of living out my identity with vigor and sensitivity.

As it should be

Branches move with the early evening cooling breeze. The quiet is punctuated by crows squawking on their way back to the river. Seeing them fly allows for thoughts that travel back through days and years seeking landmarks of definitive change or a continuum of building with "sameness." Now that would be a relief-to be content with life built upon the issues of character that reappear at each junction of trials and demands from the "outer" pressures of life. To accept that what I am made of will not change, but, peace with that reality will bring what seems to be change, but rather it is just hearing the birds and feeling the breeze and knowing all is as it should be.

advent of hope

This morning we met in the "Place of Prayer" and read some scripture, sat in silence, listened to the noise around us and the quiet whisperings of God. A story was shared in rememberence of hope found in the love of God for us and during one of the times of silence, I realized how fast the pace I have been living at. It was good to stop and listen and feel the cool breeze on my face, the rough stone beneath me and the renewed sense of anticipation that the Christ will be born. Peace and justice and restoration and hope come with the birth of the messiah, the one who sets us free from our schedules, the unending lists of activities that fill our time. The "to do's" can rob us of the joy of immersing ourselves in this season, this time of celebration, this period of preparation for winter, for gifts given and received, for evenings with family, for taking care of those less fortunate than ourselves. Let us begin this advent season listening to the quiet murmurings of a loving God amidst the noise that often surrounds us.

The space in between

There is a distance between us, a gap that is invisible to the casual observer. The space between two people and the space between two buildings and the space between an artwork and a viewer and the space between an artist and their materials and the space between the physical and the divine and the space between the sensuous stuff of life and the rational intellect of our minds. It is in this place that great questions are formed, philosophy has its way, art of all kinds is birthed and religion finds a home. When we expect an answer that ends the questions we leave the gap and move on. So many do not even know that the gap is waiting for them to be enriched by the struggle for meaning, challenged by the transcendent nature of meeting the other in the space that lies in between.

Letting it in.

How often when we hear of someone's suffering, we throw out a one liner that makes us feel better and then move on as quickly as we can. Feeling the pain of others is an uncomfortable experience. It makes us feel vulnerable and unsettled. I sometimes wonder if we hear and see so much horror on the news that our sensory receptors are dulled. The endless footage of accidents, murders, war and tragedies of all kinds. It is too much to take in, so we practice holding it at bay and enjoy our meal while we continue to watch. The call to feel with someone, to hear their story, to embrace their pain, to be thankful for the rich lives we have as individuals and as a community, that is love. So, let it in, feel deeply with those you share this journey with.

moments...

The moments pass us by, we are too distracted to notice the connection, the person, the event. Those moments lead to other moments that we will never see, because we failed to do the simple task of, "paying attention." It is essential for a life well-lived. Look carefully, see with your eyes wide open, listen to the inner voice of prompting, look for connections. When we experience the moment, it leads to other moments and events and people and an ongoing chain of life-changing interactions that echo into our future. So, be alert, life in the present, calm your mind, be where you are, listen carefully and the moments of meaning will become a lifetime of rich encounters. Remember, pay attention.

Tend to your own

There is something to be said about how clearly we can see what needs to be done in the adjacent yard. Why don't they take care of it? There are weeds, the fence is in need of repair, the trees have not been properly trimmed in years, their leaves are mostly in my yard each Fall, and what about those herbs they planted three years ago, that now have taken over the entire side yard, do they even know how to cook with them? Does any of this sound at all familiar? We have such a clear vision of what others should be doing. Its easy, we spend a good amount of time looking over the fence to see how they are progressing. And when it is pointed out to us what a mess we live in, the excuses that flow off our tongues have been rehearsed so many times we have begun to believe them ourselves. In the letter Paul wrote to some Christians living in or near Thessalonica, he shares three things that speak to this issue of monitoring other's yards. First, he says to mind your own business, second he encourages us to live a quiet life and third, he admonishes us to work with our hands. Pretty clear and simple. Look in our own yards, quietly go about the business of taking care of our own messes, using our hands to work. If only more people would spend more time cleaning up the results of their lack of disciplined garden tending and quietly go about the business of doing the work at hand. What a different world it would be.