DESPITE ALL ODDS, WE HAVE WONDERFUL DAYS

I've been finding wisdom everywhere these days.  It seems to seek me out.  Sometimes what we need finds us. Maybe what is finding me will resonate with you as well. 

This is from mid-nineteenth century poet, essayist and philosopher Ralph Waldo Emerson.  Perhaps you had to read him in school as I did.  He writes, 

“I have confidence in the laws of morals as of botany. I have planted maize in my field every June for seventeen years and I never knew it come up strychnine. My parsley, beet, turnip, carrot, buck-thorn, chestnut, acorn, are as sure. I believe that justice produces justice, and injustice injustice.” 

An entry from Emerson's Journal (1852)

I love the way he expresses this:  we grow what we sow.  Whether in our gardens or in our hearts.  Or in our national life, we might say as well.  I believe that's right.   That the laws of moral causation are as scientific as the laws of nature. We can trust our life to it.  So if we want to change what we grow we need only change what we sow.  Individually or as a community.  It may be a simplification, but isn't that what the summer protests over the suffocation of George Floyd at the knee of a police officer were trying to accomplish?  

This next thought is from poet Mary Oliver in her little book Upstream.  It seems profound to me, and applicable during this time of pandemic death.  She says, 

"In spiritual work with good luck (or grace) we come to accept life's brevity for ourselves." 

So many of us have been reminded of life's brevity this year.  It is my hope that our spiritual work prepares us for the end when it comes, even though we have done our best to live. That is my wish for the 426,000 souls who have died thus far in America from the coronavirus and the over 2 million world-wide. I remember how attuned my mother was in her last days, continuing to console those around her that we would survive the final beat of her heart.   

Oliver expresses another truth that has come home to those who mourn. 

"In the mystery and the energy of loving, we all view time's shadow upon the beloved.  We do not think of it every day, but we never forget it."

In some ways we spend our lives anticipating the deaths of those who are beloved to us, as they do ours. It is why we are so precious to each other. Because in the wide swath of time everything material and temporal must fail.   

I do not see these thoughts as depressing, merely dark, quiet and gentle.  Each of us has been wounded at some time and place, if not now.  A wound may be secret or not.  It may be held private or shared for solace. But whether our traumas lie in shadow or sunlight, are old or new, our wounded brains still have the capacity to partake in wonder and joy.  Every day we find the good that takes us forward. We know this to be true. Despite all odds, we have wonderful days.  That is our glory, yours and mine. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TODAY THE SUN SETS ON THE OLD. TODAY THE SUN RISES ON THE NEW.

 

January 20, inauguration day in the US.  Many of us, most of us in fact, 78 million and counting, have been waiting for this.  There is much to say about these events as the day continues to unfold. One thing I thought of today is those well-known words, "Ring Out the Old Ring Out the New."  That is what is happening before our eyes. Amazingly the words of a poem from another time, another place, speak directly to us.  

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Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
   The flying cloud, the frosty light:
   The year is dying in the night;
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

Ring out the old, ring in the new,
   Ring, happy bells, across the snow:
   The year is going, let him go;
Ring out the false, ring in the true.

Ring out the grief that saps the mind
   For those that here we see no more;
   Ring out the feud of rich and poor,
Ring in redress to all mankind.

Ring out a slowly dying cause,
   And ancient forms of party strife;
   Ring in the nobler modes of life,
With sweeter manners, purer laws.

Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
   The faithless coldness of the times;
   Ring out, ring out my mournful rhymes
But ring the fuller minstrel in.

Ring out false pride in place and blood,
   The civic slander and the spite;
   Ring in the love of truth and right,
Ring in the common love of good.

Ring out old shapes of foul disease;
   Ring out the narrowing lust of gold;
   Ring out the thousand wars of old,
Ring in the thousand years of peace.

Ring in the valiant man and free,
   The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
   Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.

In Memoriam, "Ring Out Wild Bells" (1850)

Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

CONNECT WITH YOURSELF, CONNECT WITH OTHERS

"Rose of Sharon" means love, beauty and healing.

Found this in Bellagracemagazine.com, unattributed.  I think you'll like it.

I know it sounds fake but you really do have a lot of 

silent lovers on this planet who look at you and wish

they had your smile or your hair color or your

humor or your intellect or your intentions or your

heart, your manners, your eyes, your ease, even just you.

People who are too shy to tell you what they

admire about you or what they wish for you.

Even though it isn't verbalized, 

the universe has still heard and 

the universe has loved you for helping out on its creations.

You're that person.  You're you. 

I feel like this is absolutely true and each of us should know it.  How lovely for an anonymous writer to give us this thought to ponder.  How generous.  Let's accept these words today as part of our appreciation of self, appreciation of others.       Nina Naomi 

 

 

  

TIME MOVED LIKE HONEY TODAY

 

Monet, "Sunshine and Snow," 1881

Time moved like honey today.  Maybe for most of the pandemic for those of us who from need or choice have been home-bound.  For a change the days have not been over before we've had a chance to pay attention to  them.  Slow like honey; sweet like honey.  When ever have Mondays been like that?  And in spite of the 1/6 events in Washington; in spite of even those.  Congress meets, the cabinet defects, we are another day closer to the inauguration and still the day redeemed itself, as days have a way of doing when we let them.

That's one of my intentions for the new year, to keep whatever good the pandemic has given birth to.  The habit of zooming with friends far away.  The habit of asking how others are doing and really wanting to know.  No more pro forma these days.  The habit of listening, tuning our ear to the nuance of fear or loneliness.  Bringing the indoors out with fire pits and blankets to live in consonance with the season. 

But perhaps most of all the new way of making the best of the worst.  When the mob stormed the U.S. Capitol on January 6 most of us watching the news felt our connectedness to eachother, much as we did on 9/11.  I don't know what all the ramifications will be.  But I'll be paying attention and looking for whatever small part is open to me. 

For now I'll still be doing it from home, whose every nook and cranny I've come to love more during these ten months of seclusion.  The place where we're safest from the virus; where the masks come off and we can hold each other close.   During these months I've lifted so many prayers from this space and had so many of them answered.  One of the unspoken ones today, when time moved like honey.  

Thinking of each of you,  Nina Naomi

 

 

 

 

WINTER CONTENTMENT

 

Do certain things remind you of your childhood?  Winter reminds me.  Some of the reminders are not particularly happy.  One time I told my parents:  "I will NOT walk to school when the temperature is below than 20 degrees!"  It was probably an eight block walk and my nose was running, my fingers stiff, my bones sore from hunching against the cold by the time I reached the equally chilly high school.  We lived too close for the bus and I had no car.  My best friend and I tried singing, skipping, everything to keep warm.  Nothing worked.  St. Louis has cold winters. 

But most childhood winter memories are good ones.  You too?  On our second date my husband and I, then teenagers, sneaked into a country club and sledded by moonlight.  St. Louis is also hilly.  We shared a sled.  I had no complaints about the cold that night.

Do you agree that a wonderful thing about childhood is that our pleasures were simple?  I lived in a drafty house, had my own room and we had a dog.  The warm air from the coal furnace blew the dog's hair everywhere.  My job was to sweep it up.  A mix of collie and super-shedder, she lost large tufts of hair year-round.  I got an allowance for my chores.  I kept a diary which was mostly about boys I liked who sometimes liked me back. 

My first dog's name is still my password.  I bet something from your childhood is your password too.  I wonder if anyone has researched that. There's a reason security questions often have to do with our childhoods.  I can't articulate it, but someone can.  Some memories don't fade. 

One thing winter brings is time for introspection.  The quiet that accompanies the cold leaves more room to think.  The coronavirus has certainly left time for contemplation. Even with home-schooling and all the rest, winter is a slower season.  Let's be content.  

OH HAPPY DAY

I got vaccinated today.  I must share this.  My heart, my mind, my emotions are lighter.  It feels celebratory.  I want this for everyone.  Each of us.  Whatever age, whatever health, whatever country . . . .  For all of us to have the smile that I am wearing.  It doesn't change my behavior.  In 28 days we will get the second shot.  And even then we will continue to mask, to take care.  But the fear of dying imminently from Covid or spreading it or causing someone else's death is diminished.  I have never felt so lucky. 

I had already been thinking about downsizing my New Year's Resolutions/Intentions.  From Lose Weight (an intention every year since I turned 40) to Enjoying my Food in a Mindful Manner.  From exercising  X number of times per week to Going Outdoors for Part of Each Day.  From reducing phone time to Putting Down My Phone When Someone Speaks to Me.  These are all tiny, achievable goals.  They fall under the umbrella of Living in a Way that Makes Life Better.  

But to be able to follow these modest intentions without the fear of infecting myself or someone else?  Somehow I never expected to reach this stage this early in the year.  After all, 2021 is not yet a week old.  

When good things happen we have to savor them.  We have to embrace them and give them as much notice as we do their opposite.  So often we are programmed to dwell on the negative.  But not today.  Today I want to shout my gratitude for the scientists who found a vaccine in record time.  My gratitude for the health care workers who have kept us alive or attended our dying.    For the 78 year-old Joe Biden who could have stayed in retirement mourning the loss of his adult son (as I have lost mine) but instead was willing to tackle the hardest job in the world.  

Today our local vaccine administrators seemed so happy to see us.  They want people to get vaccinated.  They thanked us for coming, when it was they who deserved all the thanks. Wishing this day for each and every one of us.  In gratitude, Nina Naomi