Holy Week

We spent Holy Week at our place in the country.  Sometimes using fewer words is better.

Home

We left the garage door open for one day, and a bird (one with sole) built a nest in one of our shoes. We all want a home. We all need a home.

At a recent retreat, all participants were asked to introduce themselves by saying where home was for them. I said, "In Marilyn (my wife) and in God." I did not think about my answer very much, but rather offered the answer that was there within me. Yet it makes me curious why I did not say "with" rather than "in."

With God is true, yet is much too small. More accurately I am with and in God, so I suppose that also applies to my home with Marilyn. Marilyn is much more than what is contained by her body. Marilyn is spirit, thoughts, memories and a future yet to unfold. Marilyn lives in my heart. So actually, I am with and in Marilyn as well.

I am so grateful for the awareness of the integration of my home in and relationship with Marilyn, and my home in and relationship with God. In love and with God, there is no dualism.

All this talk of home reminds me of a poem from my book.

A Trip

I closed my eyes and was transported to a remote planet,

where colors danced as from artistic genius,

where beauty abounded,

and gentleness pervaded all,

a place of tangible revelation of God,

calm and bursting with energy at the same time,

breathtaking and life-giving,

overwhelming yet reassuring.

Then I opened my eyes and I was still in that place.

I was home.

Surprise

Each time we have gone to our place in the country over the past ten years, I have been surprised and delighted to see something new (to me anyway). This past week was no exception. I saw a hanging bird's nest. I did not know birds constructed nests in this fashion. How clever. Marvelous indeed.

I read once that perhaps the best name for God is surprise. I wonder how I may be surprising people (sometimes I even surprise myself), and I wonder if I am attentive enough to other people to be surprised. I often welcome the surprises that God wishes to bring ... many times the surprises are things or happenings that I never could have imagined ... and always a gift in some way. Reminds me of a short poem from my book, Everyday Sacred.

     Surprise

     If you live in today
     you will welcome the surprise of tomorrow

Fishing

I find fishing to be a contemplative practice.  Totally focused.  No thinking.  Be-ing in nature.  Be-ing in and with God.  It feeds my soul and refreshes my spirit.

I find fishing to be an act of violence, especially when catch-and-release, as I practice.  Harming the fish for no reason other than my enjoyment.  Exploiting nature.

Yet with a post-modern perspective, I can rationalize fishing with the "both/and," and I tell myself that perhaps one day I may fish without hooks ... just not yet.

And I have a feeling that in this regard, the fish may be linear thinkers - very clearly discerning the proper path.