Living Intentionally

Advent reflections

2007-12-16T08:07:00.001-08:00

The image you see above is a digital montage by Barbara Desrosiers, and is entitled Luminous Dawning

Meditating upon the birth of the Christ-child led me to combine the images of a baby, a cathedral, and dancing light. Luminous Dawning is an attempt to hint at the power of faith, the protection of the Almighty, and the eternal birth of hope despite this world of pain. Upon the completion of this piece I found a kindred spirit in the words of Meister Eckhart.

“The awakened heart is like a luminous sphere just giving without thought to any who may come close or gaze at it. The soul becomes blessedly lost to all but its own holy being.” ~Meister Eckhart, Jerusalem

The web site Explore Faith features a section, A Time of Miracles, which includes reflections on the seasons of Advent and Christmas. I've used a couple of them for our family's evening Advent reflections.

Last night, though, I was busy trying to get caught up with cookie baking, and had spent a large part of the day trying to find clothes with my daughter. And then driving home in almost blizzard conditions. My Advent/Christmas spirit was almost nonexistent, and I was thinking, "Heck with this--we can just skip the candle thing tonight." But my husband pursuaded Son in Ohio--the one who isn't into the whole "God" thing--to look for a poem. And Son actually came through with something quite lovely...

Someday, Perhaps
Judith A. Lindberg

It begins long before the first frost -
Somewhere between memory and reality.
It touches us with compassion
and whispers to us of hope.
It tiptoes into our hearts with elation
and opens our souls to faith.

Its name is Christmas and we have yet to learn
How to keep it close for more than
this one brief, shining moment.
Someday, perhaps... with love.

"Be a lamp unto yourself"

2007-12-12T19:50:00.001-08:00

I haven't been posting about our Advent readings, but we've continued to have them. I've been battling writer's block. But I thought I'd share what I read tonight...

'Be a lamp unto yourself.
Don't search for light anywhere else;
the light is already there, the fire is already there.
Just probe a little deeper into your being, enquire.
Maybe much ash has gathered around the fire...
Just probe deep inside, and you will find the spark again.
And once you have found a single spark inside you,
you will become a flame, soon you will be a fire...
a fire that purifies, a fire that transforms,
a fire that gives you a new birth and a new being.
Be a lamp unto yourself.'
Last words of Gautama, the Buddha

And for music, I went with this. (Not entirely sure it goes with the Buddha quote, but I think the song is cool.)

Advent ritual: Day 1

2007-12-04T19:01:00.000-08:00

As part of this exercise in choosing to live more intentionally, I'm trying to make sure we do some sort of evening ritual each day during Advent. We did something like this for the first time last year, but I'm still figuring this thing out. Son in Ohio is very vocal about being an unbeliever, and frequents a web site called "God Is Imaginary". So I'm trying to find readings that aren't necessarily religious--or not exclusively Christian, at any rate. Mostly, I want to make sure we're taking time to "ponder", to reconnect, to step back from the frantic December pace.

We were planning to start lighting Advent candles on Sunday night, but Daughter ended up having more homework than we thought, and Son was asleep early. Last night I was giving final exams. So tonight was the first night we actually did this thing, which, in case I wasn't entirely clear on this, I'm kind of making up as I go. But I've come up with something of a loose structure: light candle, do some sort of reading, and play a piece of music. And then one of the kids blows out the candle.

Son in Ohio mentioned something about Moses and the burning bush earlier today, and that inspired me to look up something I'd read several years ago by Rabbi Lawrence Kushner. I used it for tonight's reading:

Creation is the process of waking up. Take the story of Moses and the burning bush. Most people were taught that this story is about God performing a miracle to get Moses' attention. Now if you were God, how would you get someone's attention? Maybe split the Red Sea, maybe set up a pillar of fire--big time stuff. But why make a bush catch fire and not get burned up? Why would God do that?

I was once sitting at home in Boston in front of the fire, and I made this discovery. Do you know how long you have to watch wood burn before you know whether or not it's being consumed? Five minutes, which means there could be a miracle going on in your fireplace but you wouldn't know it unless you watched for five minutes.

The burning bush was not a miracle, it was a test. God wanted to see if God was dealing with somebody who would pay attention for five minutes. So creation begins with opening your eyes and paying attention. And when we pay attention, we discover the world, and when we discover the world, we discover that everything is connected--or at least a lot more things are connected than we had previously thought. We get a sense that there's something else going on.

God didn't create the world once and for all; God continuously creates the world. The process goes on all the time, and we try to be aware of it.

And the music was I played was Bach's Air from Suite No. 3 in D Major. When I looked through our music, it was what I could find that seemed to fit the bill: peaceful, but not dreary, and not overly long. I have no idea what music I'll be using tomorrow, so I'm open to suggestions.

What my dog taught me

2007-11-27T14:18:00.000-08:00

This started as a comment in response to Dogs, Doorwalls and Dianisms at My Left Wing. Somewhere along the way, the comment got long enough to actually be a post. That doesn't seem to happen to often lately, so I decided to go with it...

One of the things that has been on my mind this fall is the sacredness of my connection to one of my dogs. It hasn't been easy to put into words, but I took a shot when my brother and I took Brady and Winnie to the dog park over the Thanksgiving weekend.

In part this has been prompted by my realization that Brady, the collie, must be around 10 years old at this point. I hadn't really given his age much thought--while the changes in my kids have been hard to miss, Brady always seems the same to me. It was only once he started to show some stiffness upon getting up that I really gave his age much thought.

Then there was last month's retreat. Its theme of Celtic spirituality (emphasizing nature and animals) served to reinforce the notion that I had some spiritual "work" to do centering around my relationship with Brady. There's just this amazing connection between us--sometimes it seems like he can read my thoughts.

Yet he always seems to be "underfoot", and our son in particular doesn't like the dogs around him. Winnie can go lie down somewhere when she's not wanted around, but Brady picks up on people's moods, and if anyone is emitting any "upset" vibes, he just *has* to be right there. (Winnie has that same sense of compulsion if she detects the presence of food.)

Anyway, the easiest way to restore some sense of calm or order is usually to just put Brady out in the yard. Over the years, he's spent a lot of time in the yard.

When I first got Brady, I took him to obedience classes once a week. We went through the beginner's class, and then intermediate. He earned his "Canine Good Citizen" certificate. The goal had been to eventually get involved with animal assisted therapy as a volunteer activity we could do together.

But then I got into animal rescue. Then I got out of animal rescue, but not without acquiring a second dog. Once I had two dogs, I was less inclined to take Brady "out" anywhere, and felt less compelled to do so, since the two dogs had each other.

Late this summer, I found out that there is a free (meaning no charge--you can just show up rather than paying for a membership) off-leash dog park in a suburb of Columbus. The first time I took Brady there, I was just blown away by the utter joy I could see in him. It had been ages since I'd seen him genuinely happy. His most characteristic mood for some time before that, had been "worried". Worried about the "pack", the family. I decided that I needed to make an effort to take him out more often. Like I should have been doing all along, but I'd stopped at some point. And dogs are so darn forgiving and accomodating, aren't they?

Earlier this fall, when I was working on a temp project and teaching three classes, I was sometimes too tired to get up for church by the time Sunday rolled around. On one such Sunday, when I had failed to get myself to church or the gym, I decided that taking Brady to the dog park could take the place of both that day. I was starting to think of time with Brady as a form of spiritual practice.

Boy, if that doesn't sound like some sort of namby-pamby watered-down progressive version of religion, I don't know what does.

But this is bigger than just "doing right by the collie", I've come to realize. It's about living more deliberately, acting rather than just reacting. Actually stopping to make choices rather than just allowing myself to be pushed along by life's currents. And that applies to my personal life as well as any involvement I choose to have in the "public square", whether that ends up being political or quasi-political or--whatever. But, as I mentioned here, all I know is that I'm committed to doing something to help make the world a better place.

Yet it's too easy for me to allow "the prevailing mood", whether it be on blogs, or in the media--or just my kids sniping at each other--to distract me from focusing on that goal. And now, with the artificial "frenzy" of the holiday season added into the mix, I could really use some help with this. I'm sure I can't be the only one dealing with this. So, I'm thinking that this would be a good time for those who are kindred spirits in feeling this way to come together and support each other. And help each other find strength, patience, humor, and perspective for the journey.