Circles of Protection

Several years ago, we discovered where the hummingbird had made her nest in the ancient sycamore tree outside our house. Every day, we watched her zip and zoom through the swinging branches to a nest the size of a bottle top, no larger than a quarter. Sometimes she would hover for the briefest seconds right near one of us, people-watching, and we could hear the hum of her wings. With the help of binoculars, we began to notice two tiny needles resting on the edge of that circle of a nest, that minuscule bowl, two tiny hummingbirds growing in that miniature house of a nest.

One day, we caught the tail end of a hurricane, and the sycamore branches whipped savagely back and forth for hours in the wind and rain. I couldn’t breathe for the fear of what was happening to those babies. When the rain stopped, we ran to the yard, craning our necks, straining our eyes, searching for the precious little ones, and there was the nest! And there they were! Miracle of miracles, the nest had survived, and so had the chicks! We caught the whir and the hum of wings, and the mother zipped in to tend to her storm-tossed tinies.

The orioles don’t stop at a simple circular bowl, but turn their nest to a sphere, a woven basket hanging from the branches. Twice we’ve found their nests on the ground at the end of the season when the small ones have already fledged.

Wrens, robins, bluebirds, swallows, phoebes, mourning doves–we’ve watched them build their circles of protection to hold their hope of another generation, through storms and summer heat, bumbling first flights, hungry predators.

What is the circle of protection you build, your space to keep safe the vulnerable ones?
Is it your home, your work, your school, your community life?
How do you draw the circle around the ones who need your protection?
How do you protect and nurture the small bird of your own precious spirit?
What prayer, what petition, what magic, what circle, what nest will you offer for the protection of the new thing growing in you?


Gratitude List:
1. Safe circles
2. Birds at the bird feeder
3. The way the light shines in
4. Nesting
5. Soup and bread and brie
May we walk in Beauty!


Honoring Kwanzaa with those who celebrate it: Today’s Word is one of my favorite Swahili words: Ujamaa. Cooperative economics. How can we create local systems that develop economic justice for all? How can we share our finances in ways that build up the community?


“Don’t let the tamed ones tell you how to live.” —Jonny Ox


“The best way for us to cultivate fearlessness in our daughters and other young women is by example. If they see their mothers and other women in their lives going forward despite fear, they’ll know it is possible.” —Gloria Steinem


Mark Twain: “I’ve been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.”


Frederick Buechner: “Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid.”


“A night finally came when I woke up sweaty and angry and afraid I’d never go back to sleep again. All those stories were rising up in my throat. Voices were echoing in my neck, laughter behind my ears, and I was terribly, terribly afraid that I was finally as crazy as my kind was supposed to be. But the desire to live was desperate in my belly, and the stories I had hidden all those years were the blood and bone of it. To get it down, to tell it again, to make something—by God, just once to be real in the world, without lies or evasions or sweet-talking nonsense. It was a rough beginning—my own shout of life against death, of shape and substance against silence and confusion. It was most of all my deepest, abiding desire to live fleshed and strengthened on the page, a way to tell the truth as a kind of magic not cheapened or distorted by a need to please any damn body at all. Without it, I cannot imagine my own life. Without it, I have no way to tell you who I am.” —Dorothy Allison, from “Deciding to Live”


Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov: “Love all of God’s creation, the whole and every grain of sand of it. Love every leaf, every ray of God’s light. Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love.”


“A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.” Jeremiah 31:15


XXIX
Traveler, there is no path.
The path is made by walking.
Traveller, the path is your tracks
And nothing more.
Traveller, there is no path
The path is made by walking.
By walking you make a path
And turning, you look back
At a way you will never tread again
Traveller, there is no road
Only wakes in the sea.
― Antonio Machado, Border of a Dream: Selected Poems


Walt Whitman:
“Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.
The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.
Allons! we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here,
However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while.”


A lively understandable spirit
Once entertained you.
It will come again.
Be still.
Wait.
—Theodore Roethke


“Here is one way to look at yourself through spiritual eyes: you are a message. When you wonder what existence is all about, when you ask about your purpose in life, or when you feel small in comparison to the troubles of the world: remember that you are a message sent by the Spirit into creation. What you say, what you do, how you think and feel: your whole life is a long and sustained message for others to encounter, experience and receive. You are a living message: sent to touch more lives than you can imagine.” —Steven Charleston

Among Trees

Yesterday, in her online sermon, my pastor used the Psalm 23 text, and emphasized the sheltering aspects of the psalm. At one point, she was discussing the sheltering canopies of trees, and she intimately described this weeping beech tree who lives on the campus of the Jesuit Center in Wernersville, PA. We cannot travel there now to sit beneath her branches, but here is a photo. I will meditate within her shelter today, through the images I have of her, but I will also physically sit on my porch under the sheltering canopy of my sycamore friend.

Do you have a tree friend? If you can do so without breaking your rules of sheltering in place, why not find a tree today, someone whose bark you can feel beneath your hands, whose branches filter light and air above you, whose presence can hold you steady in these unsteady times.

Below is a paraphrase of Psalm 23 that another of our pastors read during our online service yesterday. I love it.


Psalm 23
Nan Merrill | March 2010 (Vol. XXIII, No. 3)

O my Beloved, you are my shepherd,
I shall not want;
You bring me to green pastures for rest
and lead me beside still waters
renewing my spirit,
You restore my soul.
You lead me in the path of goodness
to follow Love’s way.

Even though I walk through the
valley of the shadow and of death,
I am not afraid;
For You are ever with me;
Your rod and Your staff,
they guide me,
they give me strength and comfort.

You prepare a table before me
in the presence of all my fears;
you bless me with oil,
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy will
follow me
all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the heart
of the Beloved
forever.

~ from Psalms for Praying


Gratitude List:
1. The weeping beech at Wernersville. How she is present even at a distance.
2. The sycamore who holds our home in the hollow beneath her sheltering arms.
3. That little oak up the hill, who was a tiny sapling mere years ago, and now rises twenty or thirty feet at the top of the bluff.
4. Jacarandas and frangipanis, baobabs and acacias, the trees of my childhood.
5. The trees that you are. Together, we are a massive forest of shelter and presence. Thank you for your steady breathing, your strong presence.

Take care of each other.


“I do believe in an everyday sort of magic. . .the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone.”
—Charles de Lint


“My invitation to each of you—student, faculty, community member—is to find a story of someone who has made a change, small or large, whether the consequence was their life or their comfort, and I want you to share that story with at least one other person, something that inspires you to step beyond the boundaries of your courage into a new world beyond the measure you ever thought you could make.” —Kevin Ressler, in 2017 memorial for M. J. Sharp


“What you will see is love coming out of the trees, love coming out of the sky, love coming out of the light. You will perceive love from everything around you. This is the state of bliss.” ―Miguel Ruiz


“My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage.” ―Alice Hoffman


“Sometimes I can feel my bones straining under the weight of all the lives I’m not living.”
—Jonathan Safran Foer

Who Will You Harbor?

In that story where the pregnant woman and her husband get turned away from every door, would you have offered them shelter? Would you have helped the baby? Why not do it today? Why not help the travelers seeking shelter? Why not help the people fleeing with their child from violence? Speak up for them. Stand against the violent policies that tear apart their families and send them back into danger. Listen to Sweet Honey in the Rock: “Would You Harbor Me?”


Gratitude List:
1. You, who harbored me, my angst and my anxiety, my wrangling and my struggling. Let us be the ones who harbor others.
2. Your patience. I am a slow, slow, learner, but I am teachable. Thanks for trusting that I can learn.
3. Chocolate cream of wheat pudding. I just wanted a sort of healthy-ish snack, but somehow, I started dumping cocoa powder and sugar into the cream of wheat.
4. Reflections, and reflections of reflections. In water and windows. In eyes and hearts and souls.
5. People who help me not to do the knee-jerk dance, who help me to calm down, settle, relax and breathe before reacting.

May we walk in Beauty!

The Bud Always Opens Toward Decay


“Protest that endures, I think, is moved by a hope far more modest than that of public success: namely, the hope of preserving qualities in one’s own heart and spirit that would be destroyed by acquiescence.” ―Wendell Berry, from “What Are People For?”
*
“It takes a lot of time to be a genius, you have to sit around so much doing nothing, really doing nothing.” ―Gertrude Stein
*
“It is Story that heals us, that shapeshifts us, that saves us.” ―Sylvia V. Linseadt
*
“It can hurt to go through life with your heart open, but not as much as it does to go through life with your heart closed.” –Jim Doty
*
The bud always opens toward decay,
toward falling, the fragile bits within
slipping off their tiny moorings,
sifting downward, petals drooping,
dropping to the ground below,
offering beauty and a lingering aroma
in the briefest span.

The bud which never opens
also lives toward decay and rot
but never senses sun-warm petals,
never knows the draw of butterfly,
the tickle of the bee, never feels
the moment of release, of
settling to earth.
–Beth Weaver-Kreider


Gratitude List:
1. The gift of a new mantra. Today a young woman recounted a story of not getting what she needed in a certain situation. “Next time, I will speak my need,” she said. Me too.
2. That Ross Gay poem, “Sorrow is Not My Name
“I remember. My color’s green. I’m spring.”
3. Shelter. Food. Clothing.
4. Music
5. The last of the summer sweet corn. It seems appropriate to have an end-of-summer corn dinner.

May we walk in Beauty!

Hidden Trails


Trail across Cabin Creek, where the foxes and coyotes and deer cross the creek and enter the bosque. That’s poison ivy on the cherry tree at the front left–poison ivy is the protector of wild places.

Gratitude List:
1. Lots of work getting done
2. Sheltered places
3. Sleep
4. Voices of sanity and calm amid the clamor
5. Making plans for solitude and rest

May we walk in Beauty!

Shelter

Poetry Prompt for today is Shelter, and I have been in the shelter of my bed, sick, today.  This will be a basic draft to work on later.

Things are looking rough out there.
The wind is kicking up her heels
and you look a little the worse for wear.

Step in to the shelter of this poem for a moment.
Catch your breath, escape the wild things
that have been nipping at your heels.

Sit by the fire and take off your wet shoes.
Have a cup of peppermint tea and a biscuit.
Listen to the rain pounding on the roof
and the wind howling down the chimney.

And listen to while I tell you a story.
There was a brave and golden child.
Oh, you know this one?

How she was lost in the darkest part of the wood?
How she fought her way through briars and brambles?
How she suddenly had the wind kicked out of her,
how the wild things tore her hope to pieces,
how it all blew away in the gale?

But did you hear about the part
where she took shelter with the crone,
where she looked in a mirror
and saw the reflection of her grandmothers,
how all those faces recognized her strength,
her inner fire, her unbroken spirit?

Oh yes, I know you must go back out there,
back to the storm and the wild things.
You have a harrowing run ahead of you,
a perilous journey.  Here are provisions:
cakes and tea, a small white stone,
the doll that your grandmothers made for you.

When you have gone, I will whisper your name to the wind,
I will write it on my mirrors.  I will sing it in the dark.
Whenever you feel you cannot go on,
return to the room of this poem,
with its cheery hearth and dry blankets.

 

Gratitude List:
1.  Chickadee’s spring song: Sweeeee–eeet!  Sweee-eeeeeeet!
2.  Rest
3.  Jane Goodall is coming to Lancaster!
4.  Saltines and ginger ale
5.  Green

May we walk in Beauty!