AGAIN, MARY OLIVER

 

Wild Blue Iris
Chena River, Fairbanks, Alaska

How, Lord, should we pray?  The Lord might answer, prostrate yourself, fall on your knees, let the cathedrals fill with Gregorian chants, let out the stops, shake the walls and let the world hear your praise!  This is good.  

But the Lord could also answer that: 

"It doesn't have to be

the blue iris, it could be

weeds in a vacant lot, or a few

small stones; just

pay attention, then patch

a few words together and don't try

to make them elaborate, this isn't

a contest but the doorway

into thanks, and a silence in which

another voice may speak."

This too is good.  And so we have this message through the gift of voice God gave to the poet Mary Oliver, for us to read in her poem "Praying."  A poem that reminds us that we are not often in the pews beneath the great Flenthrop organ and the stained-glass windows.  Sometimes all that is near is the flower or branch and our own small words of gratitude.  Words that God hears as surely as the practiced cathedral choirs.  

However we pray, we are heard.  Thank you, Lord.  

 

WHY SADNESS? MARY OLIVER KNOWS.

I mentioned the other evening that I thought that sadness has its benefits.  Someone who heard me may have looked doubtful, if not put off.  I phrased it badly. I didn't mean to minimize our tragedies.  Sad, worried, concerned, even afraid.  Times we aren't happy.  When we are something else, something that tightens us and pushes us down.  Not the hurt that accompanies fresh grief--that far more physical response to loss.  But sadness.  

Sadness is so common, so part of the fabric of everyday, that it becomes part of the old question, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"  But since they do, I wonder if perhaps God gives us sadness so that we can respond.   We can comfort ourselves by a feeling that draws in and lets go, a feeling that often, maybe even always, brings us closer to God.  

Some of the saddest (and most romantic) music touches our hearts. Somehow the directors of the movies Platoon and The Elephant Man knew that Barber's (1910-1981) "Adagio for Strings" would anchor their movies in heartbreak. Play this for yourself, if you will, and test your response.  

We are meant to catch our breath on those anniversaries that are embedded in mystery.  Those anniversaries where someone is given to God's care for all eternity.  

Mary Oliver writes,

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

to love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

and, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

Of course.  Everything is mortal.  My flowers die, my avocados rot, my hair turns gray, my old cat wanders off and our bones grow brittle.  Worse, the young are as mortal as we. Our species death rate is 100%; our survival rate, zero.   

Mary Oliver also writes, 

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.  

Meanwhile the world goes on.

. . . 

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

I think that sadness may be a bridge.  It may catch our attention to life as it is, then once caught, we note what lives beyond our sadness.  We ready for the next round.  The round where new flowers bloom, romantics listen to music and babies are conceived.  

Sadness is never the end.  There is always something after, high in the clean blue air as we living beings are heading home again.  

The psalmist writes, "He heals the broken hearted and binds up their wounds."  Psalm 147:3  This we believe. 

Thanks be to God.  AMEN

    

WE DON'T LIVE TO OURSELVES OR DIE TO OURSELVES

We can be an adventurer at heart and also love to be home.  As we move from summer to Fall and then into winter, we remember that everyone and everything needs some quiet time. We might see the leaves and think the beauty lies there, then see them fall and think the beauty lies on the ground in the piles of yellow, red and brown.  Then look up into the bone structure of the landscape.  

I love bare branches, the Halloween of it all, the way they reach and bend, clutching the air.  There is promise in a bare branch.  A Fall Day is a multiple cups of tea kind of day where you realize that life is too short to leave the key anywhere but in your own pocket. In Fall we realize that happiness is everyday joys lined up in a row.  

Fresh air, clean water, food, companionship and warmth.  Not everyone has these simple needs met.  If ours are, we must acknowledge the good in our life. If these needs are met, each stage of life is abundant:  childhood, adulthood, parenthood, grandparenthood and old age. Or being a friend, auntie or mentor. If these needs are met, we can sit by the window when it rains and contemplate, listening to our bodies and souls, or take a walk outside, or spend time with loved ones.  If these needs are met, we must see that others have the same chances, give, help, pray but don't stop there.

Life isn't perfect, but it does have perfect moments.  There are times we reemerge, refresh, even thrive. We live in our perfect imperfect homes, consoling ourselves and others when we need it. We pray, cry and hold each other.  We realize that being alive, just that, is so wonderful that we never need say we're bored, or too tired to help, or not interested.  We liberate ourselves by doing good things for others.  

As well, we enjoy our quiet moments. We look at our lives and hold on to some things and let others go. We remember what Ghandi said, "There is more to life than increasing its speed."  We make time for walks and thank God to be alive in our broken world.  We seriously try to fix it.  We aren't apathetic--we don't live that quietly. And we don't wait for extraordinary opportunities.  We seize common occasions and do our best. 

We learn what we have to get used to.  Aging.  Less relevance.  Even death.  We learn to trust life, which is the same as trusting God.  We find out that we are happier than we ever knew with the simpler things in life.  It surprises us.  We discover that we are OK where we are.  That being somewhere is more important than getting somewhere, a saying we now know is true. 

We have a few good people in our lives.  We love life even more than when it was new to us.  We live simply and well.  Or well because simply.  We don't live to ourselves or die to ourselves; we are the Lord's.  (Romans 14:7-8)

In peace, Nina Naomi

WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY?

A field of Lilac

Ideas to help us think about this question, culled from everywhere: 

"There are two ways to be rich:  one is by acquiring much, and the other is by desiring little."

Offline is the new luxury

When we feel stressed out, a daily dose of reading can be a wonderful cure.  There's a novel for every ailment.

Make your life a little easier, especially in your head.

Don't forget to take some time for life's little pleasures.

Doing something usually brings people together, buying something does not.

What if your fairy Godmother is the wisest, smartest version of yourself--whispering from the sidelines: walk in the sunshine, jump in the water, say your truth, be kind or silly, be you.

Don't forget JOMO:  the joy of missing out.

Bloom where you are.

Dig a hole, plant a seed, water it and wait. 

The best thing to hold on to in life is each other. 

Going back to a simpler life is not a step backward. 

We read to feel less alone, to make connection with a consciousness other than our own.

Solitude is the thread that connects us with our inner world.

If it costs you your peace, it's too expensive.

CREATE AND RECHARGE, CON'T

This is a topic that's life-long.  We are always recharged by creating.  Today I worked in the yard, weeded, clipped, rearranged, 

stepped back and admired.  A modest achievement, but the cool early September air and the bending and squatting made me feel good.  I am recharged for the evening.  

On August 2nd, I promised to come back to the creative women who submitted their ideas to the Stampington publication, In Her Studio. Here are more tidbits.

• Taking breaks is vital.  Pet the cat, walk the dog, gaze out the window or make tea.  Not a break to fold the laundry or clean the bathroom; those are chores, not breaks.  
• You can work on more than one thing at a time, one medium at a time, as a way to get unstuck and keep the joy going. 
• It's only paint, or wood, or yarn as my knitting teacher says.  Believe in yourself.  Give yourself permission to start over or let it sit, or begin something else.  
• Just have fun.  We are creating for ourselves (even if we exhibit or sell).  Don't compare yourself with others.
• You don't need expensive materials; just find what works best for you.
• Begin with the intention to be authentic to yourself every time you create
• A personal style is OK, but it has to keep evolving and growing.  Otherwise, we can stagnate.  
• Giving your creation is a way to express messages of love.

Finally, for today, and this is more than a tidbit, "I have come to realize that no matter your art form, there will always be someone a step ahead and with much more skill; but, if you put 100 percent into your work and you are completely satisfied, nobody can take that away from you." @oliviastewardillustration 

Let's have fun creating.                           Nina Naomi