Spirit Category

Am I aware, in this moment of formlessness, functioning through this form? from The Grace in Aging Kathleen Dowling Singh

The sunrise was spectacular … dynamic shades—almost neon–of pink and orange reflecting on the underside of what looked like an army of slate-hued, altocumulus clouds set against a brilliant cyan sky. In fact, the vibrant contrast of colors added to the three dimensionality of the billowy puffs making them look like poofy swirls of cotton candy floating across the airspace.

“C’mon, c’mon, you can do it … go, go, go …” I cheered inwardly, as a trio and a separate duo of geese were straining to close ranks on a larger vee of fellow Canada flyers. I was captivated by the wonderous spectacle of their simultaneous flying and honking. Wide-eyed, I stood in place until the feathered skein was a tiny dot in the sky.

“Gases move from high-pressure areas to low-pressure areas. And the bigger the difference between the pressures, the faster the air will move from the high to the low pressure. That rush of air is the wind we experience.” (scijinks.gov) Having taught sixth grade science for years, these words reverberated in my soul as I stood listening to the whooshing aria echoing on the needle-limbed pine trees. Variables such as the tree height, branch fullness, and wind speed contributed to the artistry of the sacred hymn.

Contentedly curled up on the couch together, my four-year-old granddaughter and I listened to the “Carol of the Bells” as sung by music box cardinals. She asked, “You know Papa?”
“Yes.”
“You know Vicki?”
“Yes.”
“You have GGDad.”
“Yes, I take care of him.”
Aside from the sound of crooning songbirds, a cozy silence follows and we snuggle in the warmth of mutual love and affection.

And then there was this …

My father’s car needed an oil change and inspection so I drove to a local automotive shop. The young man who did the work was quick and efficient. When he finished, he backed the car out of the bay in order to place the new inspection sticker in the window. I stood off to the side, but close by.

As he removed the old sticker, washed the window and glued the new sticker in place, he was chatting with a young woman. They seemed to know one another. She had a very sweet-looking labradoodle puppy—a tawny brown curly coat, full of energy, prancing and tugging on his leash.

I knelt down to pet him when he danced close to me. The woman seeing this, forcefully yanked on his leash—the puppy yelped–her jaw and head jutted forward spoiling for a fight—looked me dead in the eye and screamed “NO!!!” She then returned to her conversation with the mechanic as if nothing happened.

I maintained a calm demeanor throughout the encounter and may have said “sorry.”

Within the span of a few seconds, the mechanic stepped aside when he completed his task and I thanked him. As I climbed behind the wheel, my would-be canine friend jumped all over me … yet I did NOT touch him.

“What the frack was that? It’s not ok for me to pet her dog, but it is ok for him to jump all over me,” I sassily asked God as I drove home. Mostly, though, I genuinely felt sorry for the dog. I harbor no ill-will towards the woman and wouldn’t even recognize her if I saw her again.

When I shared this experience with my cousin, he said he could easily have told her–“f*** you, looking her in the eye with a direct and present demeanor, willing for whatever additional response or engagement she might have”–which could certainly be one response to such nonsensical ire.

On the whole, I do not like confrontations and work to avoid them; but this wasn’t that. I did not feel any anger or negative emotion towards her in the moment … not while I waited, not while I got in my car, not even when I was being cheeky with God, and not now.

Jean-Yves Leloup in his commentary on The Gospel of Mary Magdalene says the following:

Offering the other cheek means presenting an entirely new and unexpected way of dealing with the problem. It means to oppose violence with consciousness, to look the other in the eye, to regard the other as subject like oneself, and to refuse to be a predictable object. To be in harmony is to enter into resonance with other subjects, and with other liberties …

To be in harmony with our enemies is to skillfully allow their violence to pass through us without contaminating us. Just as in the martial arts, this attunement to our attackers can then awaken a consciousness in them that could help them to get out of the trouble they are in.”

Additionally …

As long as our peace is dependent on any kind of external reality, it is not Peace; as long as our love for others and for the world is dependent on attitudes and feelings toward us, it is not Love.

I do not know if this explains my response or not. I wish I could say I walk around that consciously aware. I think I just got lucky.

Our purpose on Earth is not to manipulate things … but to meet each other in living encounters. Life is too short to be lived by exploiting each other. There is something better for us to do, and the time we have is barely enough to learn how to love one another. Jean-Yves Leloup

Ain’t that the truth!

DEAD … is not dead!

“The First Law of Thermodynamics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. Alternatively, some sum it up as “the conservation of energy.” Ultimately, the First Law of Thermodynamics is a statement that energy can be transferred between the system and the surroundings through the transfer of heat (q) or by the performance of mechanical work (w). ΔE = q + w

Energy doesn’t simply materialize or disappear. Any gain in energy by the system will correspond to a loss in energy by the surroundings, or any loss in energy by the system will correspond to a gain in energy by the surroundings.”

I took a chemistry class in high school and again in college and loved both. Whereas many of my fellow students, particularly in high school, thought the subject matter was boring, I marveled at its’ elegance. I especially enjoyed balancing chemical equations. I loved the beautiful symmetry of this exercise!

“Matter can change form through physical and chemical changes, but through any of these changes, matter is conserved. The same amount of matter exists before and after the change—none is created or destroyed. This concept is called the Law of Conservation of Mass.”

These two laws of science perfectly explain the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly! So obvious yet sophisticated and ultimately perfect!

And doesn’t “Energy doesn’t simply materialize or disappear” remind you of the following verse?

I am the alpha and the omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end. Revelation 22:13

God, energy, The Divine, The Universe—whichever you prefer–has been, is and always will be.

Dead … is not DEAD!

The last three months have been very challenging health-wise for me. I thought I was making progress adjusting to the synthetic form of the levothyroxine hormone my body needs to continue to function, since my thyroid was removed due to cancer. Little did I know a perfect storm was brewing that would cause severe diarrhea, a urinary tract infection and acute hyperthyroid symptoms all at the same time.

I felt like sh**!

Have you ever been sick to that point where you wondered if you were ever going to get well again?

My hope was fading fast.

One night when I finally managed to drift off to sleep, my mother came to me. She has been away from earthly form for almost six years. She was standing in a hugely immense tunnel—it was not dark, but it was not wholly light—it was kind of like being in a tunnel of gigantic clouds. I ran to her and we embraced. She held me tight as I wept in her arms. No words were spoken, just the knowing of love and hope shared when I most needed it. I woke up crying.

Some of you may find that hard to believe. You may think, “oh that was just a dream.”

My mother was as alive to me then, in that moment, as she was when she was here in form.

Dead … is NOT dead!

Sunday morning, I went for a walk as I always do with my four-legged cohort, precious Polly, and instead of reveling in the quiet of the dawn, I wanted to yell at the top of my lungs HAPPY EASTER! I did not shout out loud, but my heart and soul were fervently cheering, HAPPY EASTER, HAPPY EASTER, HAPPY EASTER! I did start humming and quietly singing one of my most favorite hymns …

Low in the grave He lay
Jesus my Savior!
Waiting the coming day
Jesus my Lord!
Up from the grave He arose
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes
He arose a Victor from the dark domain
And He lives forever with His saints to reign
He arose! (He arose)
He arose! (He arose)
Hallelujah! Christ arose!
Robert Lowry

Our response in grief to a person’s death, depending upon who the person was and our relationship with him or her, can sometimes leave one feeling angry and bitter.  This is not a good place to be because one can end up believing the illusion that dead is dead.

This earthly shell that I currently inhabit will fade, will dissolve, will die, but I will not because …

DEAD … is NOT … DEAD!

There is only transition and transformation.

I assure you that unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it can only be a single seed. But if it dies, it bears much fruit. John 12:24

Or perhaps this …

“I’m not afraid of death because I don’t believe in it. It’s just getting out of one car, and into another.” John Lennon

In fact, the personal name of God, Yahweh, which is revealed to Moses in Exodus 3, is a remarkable combination of both female and male grammatical endings. The first part of God’s name in Hebrew, “Yah,” is feminine, and the last part, “weh,” is masculine.
theconversation.com

What do you think God looks like?

He has brown hair and green eyes. What do you think God looks like?

I think God looks like love.

What does love look like?

That’s a good question. There are different kinds of love like the romantic love between your parents. There is the love a Nana has for her grandchildren. There is the love between siblings and the love between friends.

I think love looks like rainbows.

Good one.

I think God has rainbow hair and rainbow eyes.

Cool! Is God male or female?

I think God is transgendered.

Wow, I think that’s amazing.

When my sons were young, I found the best place to have conversations with them was in the car because they were a captive audience. Our talks weren’t always serious; there was a mixture of fun shenanigans such as burping contests, making artificial fart noises with their arm pits and deciding whose song was playing on the radio as well as discussions ranging from sex to religion to … anything. Our minivan was a conversational confab group on wheels.

Seems this holds true now with my grandchildren as the above repartee between me and my granddaughter demonstrates. Her astute insight was cut short by our arriving at our destination. I did not get to ask her, for example, if she knows the meaning of the word transgendered.

Having taken a page out of his mother’s book, my son and daughter-in-law have been open in sharing about the topic of sex with her—age appropriately of course—so it is quite possible she knows exactly what she means. Either way, her acute evaluation of God’s gender identity shows a sharper awareness of God beyond the labels that many adults impose upon God. This will come in handy for her now and into adulthood as she navigates loving others the way Jesus teaches us to love.

Having been a follower of Jesus for most of my life, I have often wondered about his physical appearance. I use to believe that I needed to know what he looked like in order to fulfill a deep longing for an intimate and loving relationship with him as his follower.

In the Jewish Bible, Isaiah describes him as having “no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him.” The author of Hebrews from the Christian New Testament says, “He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature …”

Clearly his character is far more important than his features.

I would still like to know what he looked like when he was here in form, yet I am content to seek and see his temperament, disposition, uprightness—God’s Christ consciousness–within my fellow human beings.

I was waiting on a client to bring her car around to load her groceries from the food pantry. The sun was in my eyes and I guess it must have looked like I was scowling. David—himself a client/volunteer–asked if there was a smile under my mask. Seeing Christ in his eyes and peace in his countenance, I removed my mask and smiled, thankful for the reminder.

Not feeling particularly happy with what I was wearing one morning as I entered JCCM, an older gentleman client told me I looked nice. Seated on a bench outside the building, his appearance was disheveled and gaunt yet with an inward strength of Presence. Christ was in his eyes as well and I knew his out-of-the-blue compliment was not a come on, but a sincere, encouraging word. I thanked him and complimented him on the lovely cross hanging from his neck.

Debra, with bedraggled clothing and rumpled hair, helped me unload a cart of free breads and pastries onto a table in the front of JCCM. I do not remember what we talked about as we worked together, all I know is I felt a calm reassurance emanating from her as we did.

I was recently diagnosed with Papillary Thyroid Carcinoma, and I am just so grateful. Do not misunderstand me, I am not grateful for the cancer, but for the ways I have seen and am seeing Christ …

… in the care and concern of my doctors,
… in the love and affection of my family and friends,
… in the joy and playfulness of my dog, Polly,
… in the beauty of nature,
… in the serenity of mundane tasks,
… in acts of compassion and mercy and kindness of strangers …

Have you ever felt so grateful that you simply cry? I have. I do. I am now.

Christ is everywhere in everyone and everything. In Christ we—all of us, each and every human being ever and always–live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28).

We are here to help each other heal as St. Francis of Assisi makes clear in his “Peace Prayer.”

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master,
Grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

Being awakened to Christ is to die now because eternal life is being an instrument of Peace now!

I think this is what Indian poet and mystic, Kabir Das meant when he wrote the following:

” I have
learned
from Him how
to walk
without feet,
to see
without eyes,
to hear
without ears,
to drink
without mouth,
to fly
without wings;
I have
brought my love
and my
meditation into
the land
where there is
no sun and moon
and without
eating,
I have tasted
of the sweetness
of nectar;
and without water,
I have quenched
… my thirst. ” …

( from: Songs of Kabir )

In peace and gratitude …

I saw Christ today.

She was sitting at a table by herself in the fellowship hall of the church I attend.

I purchased the altar flowers in remembrance of my parent’s wedding anniversary—what would have been 67 years. Bright yellow Zinnias, deep red Carnations with lavender Asters completed the lovely arrangement which was a perfect blend of mine and my mother’s favorite colors.

Christ spoke to me as she was finishing her microwaved beef stew meal. She said her daughter’s favorite color was yellow and that she had died in the last year.

I could tell in her longing expression, she wanted one of the Zinnia’s but did not want to ask. I was going to give her one anyway. When I handed her the flower, I told her the bouquet was for my mom who had died. She asked how long ago my mother had passed and I said five years.

Thinking the moment had passed, I began to walk away. Christ was not finished with me, however. She called me back, “come here.” I did. She reached for my hand and I accepted hers.

Care-worn wrinkles adorned her face and hands, dirty fingernails and a weathered sweatshirt graced her frame along with garlands of bedraggled hair—I wondered about the life she had lived and was living.

Once our hands were clasped, she closed her eyes and began praying. Because I did not want to miss a moment of this sacred awareness, I kept mine open, watching and listening.

There was no “Gracious God” or “Heavenly Father” beginning. Her prayer was not punctuated with any “thee” or “thou.” No “we just ask,” no promises were made, no sin was mentioned nor forgiveness requested. In fact, the only thing she asked for was for God to bless me and that she, herself, had lost her mother in 2007. Some of her softly spoken words sounded like reverential mumbling. There wasn’t even an “amen” at the end; just a very gentle shake of my hand and her eyes opened.

A good-bye, a thank you—as I was leaving, I glanced back, she seemed lost in sweet memories staring at her flower.

No sermon, no invocation, no hymn that I heard that Sunday morning touched me as deeply as Christ did in that very brief, yet timeless instance.

I cried most of the way home—not sad tears, or happy tears—just tears of realization at how holy beautiful is Christ and how precious is all of Life.

“Hello, ma’am.” He smiled broadly and waved.

I was walking Polly. I smiled back, though not quite as widely. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m super fantastic. How are you?”

When the pandemic began, I reluctantly quit volunteering at the JCCM food pantry. One of the regular clients was Jeffrey. I have written about him in this space before. Homeless, few possessions—what he can carry in a backpack—always smiling, yes, always, and with a pep in his step.

“I’m super fantastic too, thank you.”

“You have a great day, ma’am.”

“You too.”

How could I not respond that I am super fantastic?

I have a roof over my head. I live in comfortable surroundings. I have a closet and dresser full of clothes, shoes, hats, and coats. My refrigerator and kitchen cupboards are full as is my stomach. I have a book shelf full of books to read and electronics to utilize. I drive a bad-ass truck with a tank full of gas that takes me wherever I want and need to go. I have friends and family who ‘get me’ and love me. I have a loving, sweet, gentle dog. I am retired and I have my health.

How could I not be super fantastic? I have so much more than Jeffrey.

Or do I?

If I didn’t have all of the above, would I genuinely and sincerely be able to say I’m super fantastic?

I don’t think it’s about comparing how much stuff either of us have anyway. It’s about knowing Who you are and to Whom you belong and Jeffrey is all in, 100% positive, without any doubt whatsoever sure of Who he is and to Whom he belongs.

My oldest son sent me a birthday card in which he wrote:

Has your latest year of birth been mostly happy? Well, whether or not, I hope you are well. Love, C.

Between isolating (due to the pandemic); enduring the insufferable Mr. Trump; mourning COVID deaths, gun violence, and civil rights injustices; and divorcing, year 62 was challenging. But what year of life for anyone isn’t challenging?

I answered my son, that yes, I am happy.  Upon further reflection of my son’s use of the word ‘well,’ I’d say I am well–it is well with my soul. (Horatio Spafford)

Like Paul, “I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances.” (Philippians 4:11). Of all people, Paul knew what it was to suffer—wrongfully imprisoned multiple times, beaten, stoned, shipwrecked, abandoned, whipped—still he did not lose heart.

Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4: 16-18

In other words:

All this love we are reaching to be one with begins with seeing the beauty of our own selves… Without any need to be perfect… The way God loves us… In each rising discovery that we are beautiful in the way God knows beauty the world we have all made up together becomes more beautiful… And so Creation extends, through consciousness, by transforming all that we made up, into Light… J.F.

I’m super fantastic!

And so are you!

I have been thinking about you a great deal recently, given that it is Eastertide. In particular I was wondering what it was like for you after you spoke the words, “It is finished” and then bowed your head and “gave up your spirit.”

What did that feel like?

I picture you with your arms outstretched, simply falling backwards, much like someone collapsing inversely into a body of water but without the splash, jolt or sting. Instead of water, I imagine you perfectly suspended in brilliant light, your arms still effortlessly extended. No darkness, no pain, no anxiety, no worry, no fear, no shame; just gleaming radiance bearing you with tender ease.

On one of my early morning walks with Polly, I noticed something I hadn’t discerned before. Because Polly zigzags across my path as we walk, I have to look down and slightly ahead so as not to trip over her. In so doing, I found myself listening more intently. What I heard can best be described as seeing the space around the birds’ chirps and twitters.

That positive space was teeming with expectancy; pregnant with poetry. The quietude spoke through and cradled the birdsongs simultaneously; as if it was conversing with itself as the birds were singing to each other.

Could this also be part of what you experienced?

I have read the story of your crucifixion, death and resurrection many times and have heard countless sermons about salvation, but this Easter was different. I felt and sensed you in a new and unexpected way.

The word ‘faith’ is often understood as accepting something you can’t understand. People often say: “Such and such can’t be explained, you simply have to believe it.” However, when Jesus talks about faith, he means first of all to trust unreservedly that you are loved, so that you can abandon every false way of obtaining love … It’s a question here of trusting in God’s love. The Greek word for faith is ‘pistis,’ which means, literally, “trust.” Whenever Jesus says to people he has healed; “your faith has saved you,” he is saying that they have found new life because they have surrendered in complete trust to the love of God revealed in him. Henri J.M. Nouwen

That’s it, isn’t it? That is what you did when you “gave up your spirit.” You surrendered in complete trust to Love.

Yes, Susan, that’s it. You can trust me, I love you … the more you trust me, the more intimate we become. I know you and nothing you ever do or say will make me love you less for we are one.