“The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”
Hope
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Sunflower looking east for the rising sun at Pineridge Natural Area -
The Presence of Nature
Waves across the ocean of grass “The unknown evokes wonder. If we lose our sense of wonder, we lose the sacramental majesty of the world. Nature is no longer a presence, it is a thing.”
John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes -
Cosmic Dance
Canada Geese at sunset When we are alone on a starlit night; when by chance we see the migrating birds in autumn descending on a grove of junipers to rest and eat; when we see children in a moment when they are really children; when we know love in our hearts; or when, like the Japanese poet Bashõ we hear an old frog land in a quiet pond with a solitary splash – at such times the awakening, the turning inside out of all values, the “newness,” the emptiness and the purity of vision that make themselves evident, provide a glimpse of cosmic dance.
Thomas Merton, New Seeds of Contemplation -
I Relate
Salsify plant found in a local Natural Area “I am still a consumer; the consumer world was the world I emerged into, whose air I breathed for a very long time, and its assumptions still dominate my psyche—but maybe a little less each year….There are times when I can feel the spell breaking in my mind….There are times when I can almost feel myself simply being.”
I must confess consumerism has been a struggle most of my life. I easily fall prey to the daily bombardment of marketing, always suggesting I purchase something I don’t need and can’t afford. There, also, has been a long history of buying today with tomorrow’s check. Mix these two together and we have trouble. For the past several years I buy only with money I already have and for things that are needed rather than wanted or enticed with. It’s taken a few years but I feel the spell is also breaking in my mind. So, I relate to his quote.
Happy Father’s Day!
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Time In Prayer
Morning reflection on a glass smooth Dixon Reservoir “It is no surprise that in our loss of connection with Nature, we have forgotten how to pray. We even believe that we do not need to pray.”
John O’DonohueJoan and I met for a walk/talk session at Pineridge Natural Area this morning. We took the shorter route around the reservoir which is not quite 3 miles. They were predicting a beautiful day after yesterday’s overcast skies and rain, so a lot of people were out to enjoy it. After our walk we ate brunch on the patio of a new restaurant called the Chicken Coop, which serves American Mexican breakfast and lunches. We will need to go back and try other things on the menu and definitely include another walk.
Time in nature is time in prayer. -
In the human heart
A lush green field on a morning walk “On the deepest level, problems such as war and starvation are not solved by economics and politics alone. Their source is prejudice and fear in the human heart; and their solution also lies in the human heart.”
Jack Kornfield -
Sojourners
Morning shadows in my bedroom “We rush through our days in such stress and intensity, as if we were here to stay and the serious project of the world depended on us. We worry and grow anxious; we magnify trivia until they become important enough to control our lives. Yet all the time, we have forgotten that we are but temporary sojourners on the surface of a strange planet spinning slowly in the infinite night of the cosmos.”
John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes -
Longing
Clouds in eastern Colorado “Longing is the voice of your soul, it constantly calls you to be fully present in your life: to live to full the one life given to you.”
John O’Donohue -
Diverse Inner Landscape
Distant clouds and moon looking upon an open prairie “The self is not an object or a fixed point of reference. It is a diverse inner landscape too rich to be grasped in any one concept.”
John O’Donohue -
Nothing except what he is
Grove of aspen trees somewhere in northern Utah For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone. They are like lonely persons. Not like hermits who have stolen away out of some weakness, but like great, solitary men, like Beethoven and Nietzsche. In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfill themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured. And every young farmboy knows that the hardest and noblest wood has the narrowest rings, that high on the mountains and in continuing danger the most indestructible, the strongest, the ideal trees grow.
Hermann Hesse
Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth. They do not preach learning and precepts, they preach, undeterred by particulars, the ancient law of life.
A tree says: A kernel is hidden in me, a spark, a thought, I am life from eternal life. The attempt and the risk that the eternal mother took with me is unique, unique the form and veins of my skin, unique the smallest play of leaves in my branches and the smallest scar on my bark. I was made to form and reveal the eternal in my smallest special detail.
A tree says: My strength is trust. I know nothing about my fathers, I know nothing about the thousand children that every year spring out of me. I live out the secret of my seed to the very end, and I care for nothing else. I trust that God is in me. I trust that my labor is holy. Out of this trust I live.
When we are stricken and cannot bear our lives any longer, then a tree has something to say to us: Be still! Be still! Look at me! Life is not easy, life is not difficult. Those are childish thoughts… Home is neither here nor there. Home is within you, or home is nowhere at all.
A longing to wander tears my heart when I hear trees rustling in the wind at evening. If one listens to them silently for a long time, this longing reveals its kernel, its meaning. It is not so much a matter of escaping from one’s suffering, though it may seem to be so. It is a longing for home, for a memory of the mother, for new metaphors for life. It leads home. Every path leads homeward, every step is birth, every step is death, every grave is mother.
So the tree rustles in the evening, when we stand uneasy before our own childish thoughts: Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.
