A Seat At The Table

My Sisters the Waves

2012-02-06T18:02:00.000+01:00

Not long ago, a friend mentioned she believed that in a previous life she was a bear. As I was walking by the ocean some time later, enjoying my sisters the waves, feeling so 'one' with them, so close, delighting in their playful frolic and foaming manes, it dawned on me that I had been a wave in a previous incarnation.

What a lovely realization this was! My body knots suddenly untied and I felt the freedom of water spilling over my shoulders and down my back. I saw the immense depth of the ocean on which my sisters gallop toward the shore, and thought of Godde, this immensity of which I am an infinitesimally small part. I sensed then a connection between the ocean and my sisters the waves, and Godde and me. It made me feel very good, very safe, and blissfully happy.

Yesterday afternoon, my younger daughter and I went for a walk in the 'jungle' and then along the beach. We sat on a bench at the point where the wind always blows, sometimes joyfully, sometimes angrily. Yesterday, it was balmy and coquettish, as if it wanted to draw my mind away from anything that was not festive. My daughter and I sat there, silently facing the waves, each of them so beautiful, so pristine, and so glorious in the afternoon sunshine.

My sisters the waves. Suddenly, it was as if the foam of one made up a friendly figure airily walking toward me, welcoming me back where I belong. It seemed also as if Godde herself prompted me to spend time meditating on the ocean and my sisters the waves, on Godde and me. As if both the friendly depths of the ocean and of Godde were inviting me to join them and become one.

My sisters the waves. My brothers the clouds. Thank you, Godde ♥

Photo: La Garita in viejo San Juan

Speaking One's Truth

2012-02-03T21:28:00.002+01:00

“Through the intercession of St. Blaise, bishop and martyr,
may Godde deliver you from every disease of the throat
and from ever other illness.”
Blessing for the Feast of St. Blaise

I only discovered St. Blaise twenty years ago when, a returning Catholic, I worshiped at an English-speaking parish. The French in me had never head of this Saint's Feast day. Today, in Puerto Rico, I note that in the Spanish-speaking world both St. Blaise and St. Oscar can be celebrated. Maybe Anglo-Saxons have diseases of the throat more often than the rest of the world...

I like St. Blaise for the following reason: I do believe that many folks on this earth often have words that remain stuck in their throat. They cannot speak their truth, do not feel free or do not know how to share what they have in their heart. It is neither good for them nor for our world. St. Blaise, as healer of throat diseases, seems the perfect patron saint for those who cannot or do not know how to express themselves.

When I think of one's own truth, I refer to what is felt at a deeper level, somewhere in the gut or in the heart, not something that comes from a superficial, flippant reaction, or from an access of temper. Nor words to impress, put down, or divide. Words that Godde knows are true.

Imagine each one of us able to speak, equally important...

I find it so hard to communicate. I heard long ago that I can only express 66% of what I want to say and the person whom I am talking to only gets 66% of what I am verbalizing! It is remarkable really that we can all get along as we do.

So, on the occasion of St. Blaise, I pray that each one of us finds her or his voice, discovers the capacity of expressing his or her own truth in a manner that will be well received, and simultaneously learns to listen to the answer given.

Wouldn't this be nice?

In Jesus' name.

Ilustration: The Spiritual Art of Ansgar Holmberg, Godde's Ecstasy

Refining and Purifying

2012-02-02T19:20:00.000+01:00

But who will endure the day of his coming?
And who can stand when he appears?
For he like the refiner's fire, or like the fuller's lye...
Mal 3:1-4

Before he had to become like his brothers and sisters in every way,
that he might be a merciful and faithful high priest before Godde
to expiate the sins of the people.
Because he himself was tested through what he suffered,
he is able to help those who are being tested.
Heb 2:14-18

... and you yourself a sword will pierce...
Lk 2:22-32

When I think of Jesus being tested, I usually recall his death and crucifixion. But he died in such a way so that we would not have to. My mind was called yesterday to Jesus' time of testing in the desert, when his needs for security (food), reputation (let the angels catch you), and power (you will be given dominion on the whole world) were taunted to him. To each offer, he said No. Grounded in his love of Godde, he was able to resist. On the other hand, when tested again and again, I usually fail miserably. So do many of us.

I want to live from that Divine source that is within me, but find it difficult when Godde wants to remove those stones (traits, tendencies, old patterns) that close off the source...

For each one of us, Jesus endured temptations, insults, blows, our unwillingness to recognize Him for who he was (for the scribes and pharisees stand in my stead in the stories...). Mary herself, our very own Theotokos, our sweet friend in heaven, felt a sword piercing her heart. She died in her heart with her own son... She experienced pain, a pain which places me within her reach when in pain myself.

And I fret when things don't go my way... whereas He freed us from the power of death, this fear of death which 'subjects me to slavery all my life." A slave to my own needs, my own addictions, my 'acquired rights' ... when, in fact,

... whoever claims to abide in him ought to live just as he lived.
1 Jn 2:6

This Ordinary time brings out the ordinariness in my life and the great challenge that I find in following Him as I need again and again to be refined.

In His name.

Art: Duccio di Buoninsegna, Presentation au Temple. 1308-11.

Museo dell Opera del Duomo Sienne

Compassion

2012-01-29T14:17:00.000+01:00

+ O God de
Grant me the strength 
      to be gentle, 
and enough calmness 
      to be strong.  
Grant me Thy love 
      which will make me 
      stronger than death,
 So that with this love 
I may possess that 
      mildness 
at whose touch 
difficulties 
      easily give way
Br. David Steindl-Rast

Compassion consists of doing something loving for someone you would not ordinarily love. To be passionately compassionate the heart must break open — not simply be pried open or teased open or coaxed open. Compassion is the soft and bottomless well of the holy heart.
Joan Chittister, Monasteries of the Heart, Weekly Word

Do you remember the last time Life brought you a challenge, which at times felt larger than Life itself — as if here for you to learn something, something of great importance, not only for your own self but for Life as well?

A situation develops, slowly unfolds over time, and gets so tangled up that one wonders whether any 'good' solution will ever be found, a situation where none of the fruits of the Spirit seems to be present at all.

My mother told me a story years ago which has stayed with me till now. Once upon a time, a little frog fell in a jug of milk. She struggles, splashes around, gasps for air, fights for her life, thinks all is lost, until suddenly — she finds herself on top of a big mass of butter.

My heart, mind and soul have been struggling for a while now with a situation for which I seem unable to find a solution. A situation which is not life-threatening, but a source of heartache. Many moons ago, I found out that often to solve a problem I had to think "outside the box." I think I have reached this point now, a bit like the little frog on top of her butter. The situation has not changed, but maybe, just maybe, it has changed me. Amen! Halleluiah!

And it has to do with love and compassion — for myself, and for each party involved in the situation. It is there to teach each one of us something.

It is said that when in a system a small part changes, the whole system has to change as well. Let us see how this works.

In Jesus' name.

Art: Gee's Bend Quilt

Check this site.

Several Interesting Questions

2012-01-25T21:01:00.000+01:00

Today, in her blog Pastoral Postings, Fran asks several interesting questions related to the conversion of St Paul: Have you ever been blinded? Knocked down? Turned? How do you preach? Live? Pray?

These are relevant questions for any Christian. After all, when one happens to be born Catholic, as I was, one grows up with those stories. If one has attended a class on the New Testament, one is bound to have read and reflected on St Paul at some point. His conversion puzzles the mind and has us wonder how it went. My admiration goes to Ananias, a Christian, who is asked to go and talk to Saul, his persecutor, someone he has feared greatly until now. Talk of faith and obedience!

But let us go back to Fran's questions:

Have I ever been blinded? Yes. But not by Godde, I am afraid. By my own passions, anxieties, dreams, hangups: Yes. In recent years, I have slowly learned tools for discernment. As a feeling person, however, my thinking skills often fall short.

Have I ever been knocked down? Certainly. Once again, however, I am afraid that my actions and their consequences were the ones to knock me down. It is only recently that I have begun to see that my being knocked down was an opportunity to learn how and where I err.

Have I been turned? Absolutely. Several times over my life, particularly in the past twenty years. I had to reach my early 40s to start making some sense out of my life. For years I was furious to have come to this life without a User's Manual. By the time I die, I should be able to write my own.
Thanks to an Ignatian formation, I have learned to revisit my life and discover those times when Godde touched me. I have only begun now to revisit most days to find those 'thin places' where Godde was there for me.

How do I preach? In my answer to Fran, I joked and wrote that I try not to preach. Who wants to be preached 'at'? Even though, as a feminist, I know I have many times! Still, if I look once again at the past twenty years, I can see that I have witnessed more than preached on several occasions in a variety of situations. I shared experiences where Godde had been present to me, guiding me, helping me. Witnessing seems to be a good way to explain one's faith.
Sometimes I am told that I am prophet because I can see the changes that need to be made in my Church. But a prophet is even less liked than a preacher...

How do I live? Probably very much like you who visit this place. I would like to live in the presence of Godde, turning my heart, mind and life to Her at all times, and rarely succeed. Every time I stop and think of Her, however, I can feel her laughter and love.

How do I pray? Hopefully all the time. I have come to see the challenges in my life as an opportunity given to me to cling to Godde, and the many moments of happiness as an opportunity to say Thank You.

And you, what would be your answers to Fran's questions?

Art: Gabrielle Bakker, The Reader

figuration féminine

Godde to Enfold me

2012-01-24T21:46:00.002+01:00

We were driving into town yesterday when I came across this prayer, which was just what I needed. The other help I have received today was to listen to Christine Valters Paintner's Practice of Welcoming Prayer. Many emotions are storming through me these days and I need all my concentration to ground myself into Godde's love, to act out of Her love and not of my own fears.

So, if by any chance, you too need a prayer of protection as you start off your day or your night, here is something that helps me:

Godde to enfold me,
      Godde to surround me,
God in my speaking,
      Godde in my speaking.

Godde in my sleeping,
       Godde in my waking,
Godde in my watching,
      Godde in my hoping.

Godde in my life,
      Godde in my lips,
Godde in my soul,
      Godde in my heart.

Godde in my sufficing,
      Godde in my slumber,
Godde in mine-ever living soul,
      Godde in mine eternity.

The Carmina Gadelica, III, 53
Celtic Christian Spirituality

Note: I found the Celtic illustration on line. It was created by Welsh artist Jen Delyth. The story of Anu, above, is very interesting. To find more about her, just go here.

Illustration: Anu, "the Great Mother, the womb of life, the seed of the sun in our veins."

Called

2012-01-22T08:10:00.000+01:00

Jesus said to them,
"Come after me, and I will make you fishers of men."
Then they abandoned their nets and followed him.
Mk 1:14-20

Jesus,
we hear you calling us.
We want to leave our boats
and drop our nets.
Help us let
go.
A. Osdiek

The Sacred Call is transformative. It is an invitation to our souls, a mysterious voice reverberating within, a tug on our hearts that can neither be ignored nor denied. It contains, by definition, the purest message and promise of essential freedom. It touches us at the center of our awareness. When such a call occurs and we hear it – really hear it – our shift to higher consciousness is assured.
David A. Cooper, on At the Edge of the Enclosure

To hear the call of the Beloved and follow Him. To receive a new heart and a new spirit. To feel a fire raging in one's chest, one's mind in flames with love, longing, and enthusiasm. To want to change one's life. To live and love differently. To see a different path ahead. And, then, to go home.

Walking down the mountain back into the valley. Feeling distanced from what's 'real,' anchored once again in daily life, run by old habits, worn out paths, and familiar ruts. Listening for a call that is fast dying as life takes me away once again to a sort of amnesia, an oblivion of the sacred moment.

There are times of discipleship and times of waiting. Waiting for His call. A sign, Godde, just give me a sign. I wonder whether I will still know how to cast a net, or grab someone before she falls.

To sit on the beach, watch the scene, wondering whether He will see me and call me as well. But then if he does not, I can follow him, run along the edge of the sea to watch his sail disappear on the horizon. A thirst for Him. A sort of hunger that won't let go. How good it is to remember. All I needed was today's Gospel.

In His name.

Art: The Calling of Peter and Andrew, Sano di Pietro, 1472

Dorothee Soelle, a poem

2012-01-20T15:12:00.000+01:00

If I'm absolutely still I can hear the surge of the sea, writes Dorothee Soelle.

In a few hours, I will be back a stone throw from my sisters the waves. As my eyes fell on this poem, it was as if a hand was held out to me, inviting me to return into that sacred space where Godde and I are one. In his book on Christian Mystics, Matthew Fox calls this 'oneing,' where 'all dualism ceases.' (268-269) What a great promise this is for the coming months...

If I'm absolutely still
I can hear the surge of the sea
from my bed
but it isn't enough to be absolutely still
I also have to draw my thoughts away from the land

It isn't enough to draw one's thoughts away from the land
I also have to attune my breathing to the sea
because I hear less when I breathe in

It isn't enough to attune one's breath to the sea
I also have to ban impatience from my hands and feet

It isn't enough to calm hands and feet
I also have to give up images

It isn't enough to give up images
I have to rid myself of striving

It isn't enough to be rid of striving
if I don't relinquish my ego

It isn't enough to relinquish my ego
I'm learning to fall

It isn't enough to fall
but as I fall
and drop away from myself
I no longer
seek the sea
because the sea
has come from the coast now
has entered my room
surrounds me

If I'm absolutely still.

Photo: Dorothee Soelle

Blessings, Again

2012-01-18T00:09:00.005+01:00

I have already mentioned Jan Richardson's In the Sanctuary of Women. It is a book that feeds me. If you follow Jan's blogs, The Painted Prayerbook, The Advent Door, or Sanctuary of Women, you know that Jan writes wonderful blessings. Well, the book I am reading has a blessing at the end of every section. What a gift! I love blessings — ever since I ran across Numbers 6:24, Godde bless you and keep you...

Today then I would like to share with you some of the blessings which particularly touched my heart:

May your longings lead you far
and farther still
toward the place where what you desire
can be met only by Godde.
May your hungering bring you home
by another way. (29)

Peace in the longing,
peace in the leaving,
peace in the letting go.
In every step, peace. (33)

May you move through this day
with eyes open to the Godde
who shines like the sun
within and around you. (38)

May you have
the vision to recognize
the door that is yours,
courage to open it,
wisdom to walk through. (47)

Blessed be the people we carry in our blood.
Blessed be the places we carry in our bones.
May our living make a way for those who come after:
a path of blessing, a path of beauty. (56)

That you may welcome your regrets
not as sorrows
but as messengers, as invitations,
as doorways to what yet lies ahead. (59)

Finally, the last one, for now —

O taste and see
the goodness of the Godde
Who calls us to the table
and meets us in every feast. (46)

May you see Godde wherever you look!

Art: Thérèse Oulton

Blessings

2012-01-14T14:18:00.001+01:00

Yesterday I bumped into unflattering imperfections, — my sinfulness —, that brought about some humbling moments. This morning, I woke up with an unsettled heart and felt unworthy to face my small altar. I nevertheless wrote an entry on the previous day in my diary, then out of curiosity went back to early pages. My eyes fell on these blessings recorded years ago. They felt like a healing wave of love and peace washing up on the churned up shores of my heart.

May they feel the same to you.

Never worry about anything,
but tell Godde all your desires of every kind
in prayer and petition shot through with gratitude,
and the peace of Godde which is beyond our understanding
will guard your hearts and thoughts.
Phil. 4:6-7

May the Godde of hope fill you
with all joy and peace in your faith,
so that in the power of the Holy Spirit
you may be rich in hope.
Rom 15:13

May the Godde of peace make you perfect and holy;
and may your spirit, life and body be kept blameless
for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.
He who has called you
is trustworthy and will carry it out.
1 Thes 5:23

May the Lord of peace himself give you peace
at all times and in every way.
1 Thes 3:16

I pray that the Godde of peace,
who brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus,
the great shepherd of the sheep,
by the blood that sealed an eternal covenant,
may repare you to do his will in every kind of good action;
effecting in us all whatever is acceptable to herself
through Jesus Christ,
to whom be glory for ever and ever.
Amen.
Heb 13:20-21

This, then, is what I pray,
kneeling before Godde,
from whom every motherhood,
in heaven or on earth, takes its name.
In the abundance of her glory may she,
through her Spirit,
enable you to grow firm in power
with regard to your inner self,
so that Christ may live in your hearts through faith,
and then,
planted in love and built on love,
with all Godde's holy people
you will have the strength
to grasp the breadth and the length,
the height and the depth,
so that, knowing the love of Christ,
which is beyond knowledge,
you may be filled
with the utter fullness of Godde.
Eph 3:15-19

Art: Antonello da Messina, Salvator mundi (Christ Blessing),

1465, via wikipedia

Attending to the shadows

2012-01-13T12:23:00.002+01:00

... After they had broken through,

they let down the mat on which the paralytic was lying.

Mk 2:1-12

In Godde's loving presence I unwind the past day,

starting from now and looking back,

moment by moment.

I gather in all the goodness and light,

in gratitude.

I attend to the shadows and what they say to me,

seeking healing, courage, forgiveness

Sacred Space

It is also astonishing to find that some very good characteristics turn up in the shadow. Generally, the ordinary, the mundane characteristics are the norms. Anything less than this goes into the shadow. But anything better also goes into the shadow! Some of the pure gold of our personality is relegated to the shadow because it can find no place in that great leveling process that is culture.

Robert A. Johnson,

Owning your Own Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche, 7

The story of the paralytic. Again. Each time though something different calls my attention. Today, as I followed the lowering of the paralytic down to Jesus, I wondered about my own paralysis. Where am I paralyzed?

Having no answer, I reflected on this healing and wondered whether it was the first healing of a paralytic in the gospel of Mark. So I checked. Sure enough. A demoniac was the first to be healed in the course of Jesus's mission; then Peter's mother-in-law; followed the cure of various diseases and demons; a leper was then made whole; and today the paralytic, as if Mark wanted to show the various aspects of Jesus's healing powers.

To dwelve deeper in my prayer, I then turned to Sacred Space, where I go pretty much every day, after the bishops' website and Give Us This Day. In the time leading to the gospel itself, one of the suggestions offered was to unwind the past day, revisiting it and, in the process, "attending to the shadows" — those moments of discomfort, projection, or sheer denial of one's emotions, whether good or bad.

(I am no expert on the shadow. Phil at Blue-Eyed Ennis may have told us a lot already about it. In this case, she will enlighten me.)

Going back to today's gospel, being lowered down to Jesus's level, I attempt to address my own paralysis, whether of faith, of energy, of adventurous spirit. A certain conditioning coming from my age, maybe, and all that it represents in our society today. What would I do if I knew I could not fail, O Godde? Which service would I undertake? Which action would I dare? What sort of a Christian would I become? What have I hidden under the carpet of my unconscious, that is left there unused, unobserved, ignored, a 'stranger' to myself?

It will take many hours of weeding in the garden before I can turn up that tiny gem of understanding that will beg me to release it and let it become what it was meant to be from the beginning of times.

In Her name.

Illustration: Shadows in the field, Camino 2006

To experience Jan Richardson's,

visit her site The Painted Prayerbook.

Why, Godde?

2012-01-12T11:54:00.000+01:00

"Why has Godde permitted us to be defeated today
by the Philistines?
Let us fetch the ark of Godde from Shiloh
that it may go into battle among us
and save us from the grasp of our enemies."
1 Sm 4:1-11

I rarely like battles in the Old Testament, or anywhere else for that matter — too patriarchal and macho for me. This morning, then, I glanced at the passage, saw what it was about, and let out a big heavy sigh. I braced myself and started reading.

Surprise! The passage energized me. Here is Israel losing in battle against the Philistines and deciding to use their ultimate trump card, their absolute 'weapon': the Ark of Godde. Sure enough, the Philistines are frightened; their army can only lose against 'gods.'

To the disbelief of both parties, the Philistines win. Israel's rout is complete: thirty thousand foot soldiers die; so do Hophni and Phinehas, Eli's sons. Eli himseld collapses and dies upon hearing the news. So does the wife of Phinehas, while giving birth. It is mayhem, an apocalyptic scene in Israel.

After further exploration, I discover that the Philistines took the Ark with them, but it brought plagues wherever it was set. Panic ensued. Even Dagon, their God, was found prostrated in his own temple in front of the Ark. It is a lose-lose situation. Finally, unable to bear more, the Philistines sent back the Ark to Israel on a cart laden with additional gold (wikipedia).

This excerpt moved me because often I expect my prayers to be answered the way I want: Godde reigns in my life. I am her beloved daughter. I ask, expecting to be answered; I knock, assuming the door will open; I seek and am sure to find. Well, sometimes I find that my prayers are not part of Godde's will.

How often is Godde used in war, in political battles, in religious struggles as a standard leading to victory? How many times have young people been blessed before dying in battles. As if Godde monitored armed conflicts from heaven the way Zeus and Athena followed the Trojan war...

How often do I ask Godde to do the job on my behalf?

In today's reading, I saw a message for me: when my prayers are not answered the way I want, when I cannot pray myself out of a situation, when the mystery of Godde's will loses me in a heavy fog of dread, I can grab her Hand, pray for courage and grace-full-ness, and look for the right path, in my heart and the events challenging me

Not my will, Beloved Godde, but yours.

Just give me your grace and your love,
this is enough for me (Ignatius).

In Your name.

Illustration: the Ark in the land of Philistines and the Temple of Dagon,

Wall painting from the West wall in the Dura Europos synagogue,

Wikipedia

A great link from Loyola Press: Discernment —Consolation and Desolation

Godde indeed

2012-01-09T15:49:00.000+01:00

Godde indeed is my savior;
I am confident and unafraid.
My strength and my courage is Godde,
and she has been my savior.
With joy I will draw water
at the fountain of salvation.
Is 12:2-3

I found the readings overwhelming today on the US Bishops' website on the occasion of the Baptism of the Lord: too many of them, as if the Liturgy Committee has been unable to decide and make a clear choice. I ended up with Give Us This Day's selection. But my heart felt bleak and the whole time of my prayer I could only stay on the bank of the Jordan watching Jesus being baptized, just half-present to the scene.

Downstairs, at the kitchen table, my husband, clear-headed and happy, pointed out to me this psalm I had overlooked. It fitted my anxious mood perfectly.

How can one start a new year filled with gloom and doom when one's life could hardly be better? I am not sure. I also know that I am to acknowledge my state of mind as it is and not sweep it under the carpet because it does not fit my expectations.

What is sure, however, is that Isaiah's verses today will become my affirmation for the new year. Just saying:

Godde indeed is my savior;
I am confident and unafraid.
My strength and my courage is Godde

and I feel better. I am not alone. Someone understands me, loves me, and walks before me always.

Now then, I can return to that bank by the Jordan and watch once again John baptizing Jesus. Shortly afterwards, I present myself for baptism as well and I feel every drop of the water of salvation running down my face and body. Peace enters my heart and mind: I am your beloved daughter and with me you are well pleased.

In Her name.

Photo: Neighboring garita in viejo San Juan, 2011

Christmas Clean-Up

2012-01-07T11:17:00.000+01:00

As snow flurries dance their way down on to the roof tops and the ground below, our younger daughter is helping us clean up and put away all that has been used over the Christmas season when we were, blissfully, all under the same roof.

This is the kind of work I usually like to do in music. I clicked on a CD which was there from before: Vivaldi's 6 Cello Concertos. Within seconds, I knew this was too solemn for my mood. I looked at old tapes and saw Jimi Hendrix. Purple Haze. This was 'Per-fect'! It had me dancing straight away.

When I hear a 'music from my past,' it takes me right back to it and always strikes me as wildly odd that the young woman who loved this music is now a grandmother so heavily into prayer and meditation.

How glad I am to have been who I was fifty years ago onwards! How difficult it was at times though! How little hope I held for myself... Had a fairy-godmother come to me and allowed me to look into the years to come, I would never have believed it. My life has been better than the dreams I held dear. Godde has given me so much more than I ever anticipated.

I am now glad I was wild when I was twenty. When I don't recognize the face in my mirror (even though I must say it looks friendly and usually kind), when my body can no longer bend as it used to (yoga is the answer, I know), when I feel grey inside and outside (which is not so often), all I need to do is to listen to one of my old favorites and a certain spirit of mine comes back to life.

And so it did this morning. Whereas a snowfall when our grandsons are here, is a source of excitement and joy, when they are away, it has something cold and nostalgic, a sort of icy silence that covers my frozen heart. Jimi's Purple Haze, however, brought back a young me, unmarried and wondering whether I would ever meet someone, a girl who loved arts and jazz, who painted her nails black, who spent sleepless nights and had a fabulous English breakfast by the pier at dawn... Those were the days.

Behind every aging face, wrinkled, haloed with white hair, is a young soul, female or male, with experiences and lives that cannot be imagined, unless for some strange reasons something triggers up memories that spill out.

Today I love the young girl I was fifty years ago. I am glad I did not die when I tried to. What an incredible adventure these years have been!

As I put away the Christmas decorations, it is suddenly all of me who is present to the memories of those past two weeks, a grandmother so grateful for her children and grandchildren and the young girl whom I was for the life I was given.

In her name.

Photo: Jimi Hendrix, Pop Art Portrait of a Legend

PS: If you want to leave a comment and

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¡Feliz Día de Reyes!

2012-01-05T14:27:00.000+01:00

This morning, my Puerto Rican friend Nelson, a soon-to-be Franciscan, sent me an e-mail wishing me a Feliz día de Reyes, a Happy Three Kings' Day. This evening, Puerto Rican children will place some hay at their doorstep for the camels of the Kings (even though the Three Kings usually come on horses — pasos finos —, in Puerto Rico). Tomorrow morning, Puerto Rican children will receive more gifts (many have already received gifts on Christmas morning). Upon reflection, it makes sense to exchange gifts on Three Kings' Day (Epiphany in other places), when the the Magi bring gifts to Jesus, the infant, rather than on Christmas morning itself.

Here are a few Latin expressions of the Día de Reyes' celebrations.

Poema del día de los Reyes

(Nicaraguan poem)

Yo soy Gaspar. Aquí traigo el incienso.
Vengo a decir: La vida es pura y bella.
Existe Dios. El amor es inmenso.
¡Todo lo sé por la divina Estrella!

Yo soy Melchor. Mi mirra aroma todo.
Existe Dios. Él es la luz del día.
¡La blanca flor tiene sus pies en lodo
y en el placer hay la melancolía!

Soy Baltasar. Traigo el oro. Aseguro
que existe Dios. Él es el grande y fuerte.
Todo lo sé por el lucero puro
que brilla en la diadema de la Muerte.

Gaspar, Melchor y Baltasar, callaos.
Triunfa el amor y a su fiesta os convida.
¡Cristo resurge, hace la luz del caos
y tiene la corona de la Vida!

(in English)

Ya vienen los Reyes Magos, caminito de Belén

To all my Puerto Rican friends (whom I will now see very soon),
A muy ¡Feliz Día de Reyes!
To my other friends, a Blessed Epiphany.

Illustration: Los Tres Reyes, Vivir Latino

Can I come too?

2012-01-04T14:19:00.001+01:00

The two disciples... followed Jesus.
Jesus turned round, saw them following and said,
'What do you want?'
They answered, 'Rabbi —which means 'Teacher' —
'where do you live?'
He replied, 'Come and see;'
so they went and saw where he lived,
and stayed with him that day.
John 1:37-39, The New Jerusalem Bible

At three a.m. this morning, first I read Barbara's beautiful blog, Barefoot toward the Light. Then I moved to Give Us This Day, and found that today's gospel was John 1:35-42, when two followers of John the Baptist discover 'the Messiah.'

Thanks to Fr. Tim's meditation, a co-pastor in our parish twenty years ago or so, this excerpt has remained a key passage in my heart ever since. Tim invited us to follow Jesus to his place and spend time with him there. Meditating this way was very new to me; I liked this very much, finding really easy to imagine the encounter; and the memory remains imprinted in my mind and heart.

I can nearly hear Jesus say, 'What do you want?' Nothing much has happened yet. John the Baptist has recognized him and pointed him out to his followers. Jesus is the Chosen One of Godde. Still Jesus is an unknown entity. No story has been written yet, or if it has, it has never come down to us. His charisma is already very real, however.

Something is taking place between Jesus and John's followers. What makes them follow him? He is not that much older than they are. What makes him so appealing to them?

I just remember reaching his little room twenty years ago. It could have been a house. I only remember a small room, a cell really, with a bed, a trunk, a stool and a little square window. He took the stool and I faced him, sitting on the bed. It still feels as if it had been yesterday, or just a few hours ago really. I had so much to tell him then: a lifetime of forty-five years...

Last night, as I read the famous verses, my heart had a movement of joy: I felt home really. I knew the way down to his room. It is just that, at that precise moment, I was not asked to come and see. I was not invited. Those two men had been. This is when I heard myself blurt out, 'Can I come too?'

I was neither 45, nor even 20 — the years I so often have when I follow Christ. I was no more than 9 or 10, a sort of grimy street urchin, a pushy little girl, who was dying to be with those three young giants. I got a smile from Jesus, and I followed the three to the lake, to the place where he lives.

I went back to bed then, my heart overflowing with joy and gratitude, my eyes teary. It felt like such a special moment! Such a treat, such an encounter... It was so lovely it took me one more hour to fall back asleep...

In His name.

Illustration: Georges Rouault, le Camino

Élan, my word

2012-01-03T20:43:00.000+01:00

If you follow Christine Valters Paintner's Abbey of the Arts, you already know of her invitation to share your Word of the Year. In 2011, my word was essence and essence indeed was my companion throughout the months — a sort of diving into my inner world to find what was at the bottom of it, as if I could do such a thing. For 2012, 'élan' came to me. A very French word, a particular attitude toward life, not so easy to translate. Every language has such words, better said in their language of origin. A bit like 'chutzpah' in Hebrew, 'tikka' in Hindi with a wiggle of the head, and 'vale' in Spanish.

Take élan. My Mac dictionary defines it as 'energy, style and enthusiasm.' Some of the synonyms it gives are: panache, éclat; vitality, liveliness, zest, verve, spirit, sparkle, enthusiasm, gusto, feeling, fire; oomph...

Essence accompanied me through a year of introversion and solitude. Elan feels like being thrown into a pool, screaming, laughing and spluttering.

Last year was serious, too serious. This year, I want to laugh more. I want to learn to do cartwheels, to whistle between my fingers to call a cab. I want to be silly...

I am not very good at New Year's resolutions. I like to read other people's, like John Predmore's at Set the World Ablaze. Mine are more like a to-do list that never gets done! This year, at the end of each day, I just want to look and see for that moment when I acted with élan. An élan a day will do me just fine.

Have you thought of a word for yourself?

Illustration: Remembering to Play, seen on Facebook

Thin Places

2012-01-03T12:00:00.003+01:00

In Celtic spiritual traditions, [thin spaces are]... spaces where the veil between worlds becomes transparent, and heaven and earth meet ... places where the lay of the land evokes an awareness of the sacred. These spaces are haunted by the holy. Time runs differently here...
   ... Perhaps the mystery of thin places is that when we find ourselves in them, when we recognize them, we become more present to the Godde who is always present to us. Something in the landscape meets us, inhabits us. The veil that falls away is not external to us; it is within. ...
     ... This thinning between worlds happens not only in the physical terrain but also in the landscape of time... The rhythm of the Christian year offers its own thresholds, inviting us to enter into a deep awareness of the Godde who dwells both within and beyond chronological time. ... Thin places remind us that we travel in the presence of the communion of saints and in the company of the Godde who, in the person of Jesus, intersected and inhabited time. ... It is a mystery, this simultaneous entering and shedding that Godde does with time. In the thin places, we are given a glimpse.
     ... There are also thin places that we carry within ourselves, our own stories, our own internal terrain. ... They come as reminders of how it matters what we choose. They come too as a reminder of grace: that Godde can work within every choice, even the ones we made long ago.

Blessing

May your journey through this day

offer a thin, thin place

where heaven and earth meet

and time falls away

Jan L. Richardson, In the Sanctuary of Women

"Thin Places," 85-87

I could not tell you exactly when I first read about thin places. It could have been in an e-mail on a women's spirituality forum— some time in the past twenty years. It made sense to me then because, some nights, especially toward Christmas and the New Year, I feel like Godde bends over toward the earth and kisses each one us on the forehead.

The concept of thin places has popped up again and again over the years, each time becoming more real. Till I read about it in Jan's book some evenings ago. This is when it started working on me and I looked back at the thin places in my life, those moments when Godde feels present, around or within.

I chose a photo of the Camino Aragonés as an example of a thin place, possibly because the Camino's draw on so many of us ex-pilgrims comes from its being a very long thin place meandering through Europe, and particularly Spain. When walking the Camino, I feel like I am walking through Godde. But then, many of the places I love give me the same impression. Like when I walk in the streets of viejo San Juan or on my very own holy mountain, behind our village in France.

In our own home, I would say that our kitchen is a thin place, especially by the sink, when I wash the dishes, or my red armchair, facing the small altar on the window sill. It is said that thin places appear where people pray a lot; also, somehow, where the Spirit, for reasons of her own, likes to dwell — mountain tops, small gurgling streams...

As to thin places in my own life, this is a new concept to me and I will have to ponder the topic in the weeks to come. What touches me most about this are Jan's words: Godde can work within every choice, even the ones we made long ago... Possibly those choices that stay and haunt me and have made me who I am today.

A thin place is a bit like coming nose to nose with Godde, my heart melting suddenly feeling so sweet and peaceful, as if I could feel Godde's tender eyes resting on me.

Today, then, and this whole year, I wish you to come upon thin places in your life where Time stops and you find yourself slowly dancing through eternity with this Godde who loves us so extravagantly.

In Her name.

Photo: Camino Aragonés, 2007

Good-bye to this Year

2011-12-31T14:45:00.000+01:00

But since the year was made possible by Godde's grace the way we experienced it, since it was more Godde's merciful doing than our failure, we can bless it, we are permitted to do so and have to do so. We may say good-bye to this year with gratitude and place it into the hands of a gracious and loving Godde, the Godde who is eternity and who preserves for us our part of eternity, including the part to which we say good-bye today and tomorrow. What we offer in gratitude Godde graciously takes, and what is taken by Godde is preserved and made holy, blessed, and set free. With that it remains eternal: our year is save and forever retained.
... We do not carry more than we are capable of carrying. When we have the impression that only the burdens of the old year carry over into the new while what was easy and joyous is left behind, then let us say during our good-bye to the old year: "My Godde, you are coming along, and therefore I gladly carry with me all of the old year that I simply cannot leave behind, recognizing it as yours, to be preserved for life eternal."
So, let us say good-bye to the past year! It was a year of the Lord, a year of grace, a year of inner growth, even if we did not feel it. After all, Godde's strength achieves victory in our weakness. Thus, we really can praise Godde at the end of the year and thank him [sic] and give him honor, for he is good and his mercy is everlasting.
Karl Rahner, The Mystical Way in Everyday Life, 31-32

This morning, I listened to a reflection offered by Vinita Hampton Wright on Days of Deepening Friendship. It is all about gratitude for this past year. Listen to it; I am sure you will be surprised at all those moments for which we can each feel grateful. The suggestion which pleased me most was to be grateful for those difficult times which I have survived. Apart from the grace-filled moments of encounters with the Divine, aside from the many joyous moments with family and friends, old and new, 2011 has also been a year with leaky roofs, unreliable contractors, difficult relationships, and my body giving up on me. But I did survive those times; some of them will be awaiting me from tomorrow on. But, as Karl Rahner says, "My Godde, you are coming along..." Thus, all will be well, and all will be well, and every kind of things will be well," as our friend Julian would say.

As this year comes to a close, I thank everyone of you for coming to this place and leaving a comment that shows me you have been here. May we meet again in 2012, whether here or on your own blog.

Blessings ♥

Illustration: La Fuite en Egypte,

photo taken somewhere between Jaca and Burgos, Camino 2008

Listening to My Hollow Places

2011-12-30T12:24:00.000+01:00

...Gathering at the table of Communion, of Eucharist, invites us to listen also to the hollow places within us, to seek sustenance and nourishment, to be reminded we are not alone. The table invites us to meet Christ and one another at the point of our hunger. It confronts us with the knowledge that we can't get by on our own reserves. And it offers a place to hold those hungers.
In a culture that constantly tells us what we're hungry for and how to sate our desires, it is a marvel that the central sacramental space of the Christian tradition is a table that beckons us to acknowledge that we have deeper hungers and keener desires than the ones our televisions, magazines, and radios confront us with. To gather at the table is a countercultural act that challenges us to sort among our competing hungers, invites us to name the desire that lies beneath them, and beckons us to resist the urge to stuff ourselves not simply with food but with whatever keeps us from acknowledging the emptiness within us. ...
Jan L. Richardson, In the Sanctuary of Women, "The Hunger Table," 45

Ah, this year's end is working me over. This morning, I came across a quote at Set the World Ablaze that said:

Christ’s life was strange and wondrous for it was imprinted with the new power of a person who lived life in a new way.
Maximus the Confessor

I like the idea of 'living life in a new way." I see this happening by attending to those inner hungers that are gnawing at me deep down, and by joining others at the Eucharistic table. It is now a while that I have stopped 'stuffing myself with whatever keeps me from acknowledging my emptiness within...' There comes a time when stuff becomes over-rated. As I recently saw on FB:

Abundance is not something we acquire.
It's something we tune into.
Wayne Dyer

Now is a good time to listen to the hollow places within me, knowing that nothing I can buy will fill them. Only He can.

In His name.

Illustration: The Institution of the Eucharist, The Luminous Mysteries,

Creighton University

Awesome

2011-12-29T11:04:00.002+01:00

Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies' straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.
Annie Dillard, Teaching A Stone to Talk

I found this quote in Jan Richardson's In the Sanctuary of Women, which I was gifted on Christmas morning (joy, o joy!). Jan explains that in her search for the holy, she periodically stops to wonder, What am I doing anyway, asking for the living God to become known to me and to know me?

You know how one reads a book and, around the corner of page, suddenly stumbles on a thought that goes 'twaannngggg' in one's mind and has one stop in one's track, stunned by its veracity and pointedness. Well, this is what the words 'does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke' did to me.

I rarely enter prayer first reflecting on the awesomeness of the One I am to face. I fear I often take Godde for granted. I may even be condescending... I have grown accustomed to Her grandeur whether looking at the Alps, a sunrise or sunset, or clouds floating above the ocean. I stop and gawk, of course. I recognize the origin of the beauty, but I do not dwell on the power behind the Big Bang and the creation of the universe. I am an ant imagining Her creator in her own image.

As this year comes to an end, I pray for the grace to spend time in awe with 'the living Godde becoming known to me' in the year to come.

In Her name.

Illustration: Clouds, viejo San Juan, 2006

Another year is coming to an end

2011-12-27T14:10:00.002+01:00

The Road of Life

another year is coming to an end.
I can feel her tug at my calendar;
I can sense her insistent movement.
I can hear her call to cross over.

Outside my window the trees are empty
and the air has the ripeness of snowfall.
I cast an inward glance to the past
and feel a deep desire to catch its glow.

Something in me wants to hold on,
to gather all the good things close to me.
A part of me that years for security
keeps encouraging me to grasp it all.

Then a tiny thimble-full of light
moves its way through my insecurity;
it weaves a thread of courage,
sending sparks into the dark.
Up and up it rises through my spirit
until it meets my controlling grip.

The Firefly flickers of Godde's grace
are enough to embrace the unknown.
A surge of powerful surrender
takes over all my looking back,
and ever so gently and hopefully
I risk the road of another new year.

Joyce Rupp, May I Have This Dance?

Surely because today is the Feast of St John, Apostle and evangelist, from the depth of my heart, I felt the longing to travel to Ephesus next year and visit the house where John and Mary are said to have lived. I thought then of writing a list of what I would like to do in 2012, allowing myself to be thoroughly unreasonable. I will then release this list into the Cosmos and tell Godde, "This, Beloved, or something better..." For Godde has a better imagination that I have, and nothing is impossible to Her.

Wishing you a blessed time in this Christmas Octave.

Photo: Grilly in her winter coat, December 2012

Merry Christmas! Joyeux Noël! ¡Feliz Navidad!

2011-12-26T16:40:00.003+01:00

Beholding His glory is only half our job.
In our souls too the mysteries must be brought forth...
'The Eternal Birth,' says Eckhart,
'must take place in you.'
Evelyn Underhill, Light of Christ

Since the coming of Christ goes on forever —
he is always he who is to come
in the world and in the church —
there is always an Advent going on.
Jean Daniélou, in An Advent Sourcebook

A Christian's goal is never reached; it is the way it is, and as it should be. An Advent is going on all the time and The Eternal Birth must take place in me. I need time, lots of it, to prepare myself.

It is strange that the gospel read at the beginning
      of the time of preparation of Christmas
is that of the end of the whole history of the world.
Yet that is not really surprising.
For what is afoot in a small beginning is
      best recognized by the magnitude of its end.
What was really meant
      and actually happened by the coming,
            the "advent,"
      of the redeemer is best gathered from that completion of his coming
      which we rather misleadingly call
            the "second coming."
For in reality it is the fulfillment of his one coming
      which is still in progress at the present time.
Karl Rahner, Everyday faith, 1968

The glow of Christmas eve and Christmas day is still with me, a sort of grace that fills my heart and mind with peace. A new understanding of Advent fills me with gratitude: what a gift! Jesus is indeed coming.

The Christmas Octave is on. The time comes to say goodbye to 2011 and hello to 2012, to let go of all that does not fit in what is to come. To help me in this, I will follow Christine Valters Paintner's Holy Birthing: Practices for the 12 days of Christmas.

Wishing you — and me — to keep the Spirit of Christmas throughout the coming days and into the New Year,

Blessings.

Art: Adoration of the Shepherds, Taddeo Gaddi, 1330-1335

Farewele, Advent

2011-12-24T14:29:00.000+01:00

In my Advent Sourcebook, I came across an English carol from the fifteenth century in 'old English.' As I began reading it, I suddenly could hear my mother-in-law quoting Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, with the very special accent and rhythm of the English of that time.

Interestingly, this carol seems to say that life was not particularly pleasant during Advent. It appeared to describe Lent more than the weeks leading to Christmas. But then, in those days, Advent did look like Lent, hence the purple color of the vestments. (Or maybe the writer of this hymn was just very poor...)

Today is the last day of Advent. Tonight and tomorrow we will enter the Christmas Season. Hopefully, Jesus will have been born in each one of our hearts and we will be ready to help Christ make the world a better place.

Farewele, Advent; Christmas is cum;
Farewele fro us both alle and sume.

With paciens thou hast us fedde
and made us go hungrie to bedde;
For lak of mete we were nyghe dedde;
Farewele fro us both alle and sume.

While thou haste be within oure howse
We ete no puddynges ne no sowce,
But stynking fisshe not worth a lowce;
Farewele fro us both alle and sume.

There was no fresshe fisshe ferre ne nere;
Salt fisshe and samon was to dere,
And thus we have had hevy chere;
Farewele fro us both alle and sume.

Oure brede was browne, oure ale was thynne,
Oure brede was musty in the bynne,
Oure ale soure or we did begynne;
Farewele fro us both alle and sume,

The tyme of Christes feest natall
We will be mery, grete and small,
And thou shalt goo oute of this halle;
Farewele fro us both alle and sume.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas, with no thin ale and stinking fish, but salt fish and salmon — if it is not to dear...

In the joy of Christ's presence in our lives,

Illustration: Nativity, Très Riches Heures du Duc de Berry, 1382

Around The Magnificat

2011-12-22T15:32:00.000+01:00

The Almighty has done great things for me,

and Holy is Her name.

Magnificat, Lk 1:46-56

My soul is always stirred when, looking over my life, I count the many times Godde has rescued me from sorrow or saved me from danger. These are just the moments of which I am aware! How often has She saved me unnoticed?

The Magnificat is a resounding song of praise and thanks for all that Godde has done in the life of a very young woman. Each one of us, however, taking the time to revisit one's life, will not fail to notice that this hymn can be appropriated and made one's own.

As a tribute to Mary, her courage, her endurance, her fortitude, and the example that She is to so many of us, I present below two reflections on her role in history and two poems, directly or less directly related to it.

In Her name.

We can see in [the Magnificat] a total reversal of values and structures. It is, undoubtedly, a radical message of the sort which can be read in the work of revolutionary prophets of different ages. The pity, however, is that the Christian tradition has succeeded in domesticating Mary so much that she is known as the comforter of the disturbed, rather than as the disturber of the comfortable. Her words can be an inspiration for radical action for changes of consciousness in people and in the structures of societies. The Magnificat reveals how she reconciles social radicalness with personal service, a revolutionary message with interpersonal love. This is a powerful and attractive combination of practical action, deep reflective prayer and personal concern.
Fr. Tissa Balasuriya, Mary and Human Liberation: the story and the text, 58

Mary, Prophet of Godde's Justice
... Leonardo Boff write that even though traditional Christianity "has rendered the critical, liberating content of the Magnificat impotent, today's Church must take up its urgent task and develop a prophetic image of Mary —an image of Mary as the strong determined woman, the woman committed to the messianic liberation of the poor from the historical social injustices under which they suffer." ...
James A. Wallace, Preaching to the Hungers of the Heart, 154

Sing we a song of high revolt
Make great the Lord, his name exalt:
Sing we the song that Mary sang
of Godde at war with human wrong.
Sing we of him who deeply cares
And still with us our burden bears;
He, who with strength the proud disowns,
Bring down the mighty from their thrones.

By him the poor are lifted up;
He satisfies with bread and cup
The hungry folk of many lands;
The rich are left with empty hands.
He calls us to revolt and fight
With him for what is just and right
To sing and live Magnificat
In crowded street and council flat
Fred Kaan (1929-2009), in An Advent Sourcebook

Holy are You,
O One Who Sings
the song of the new creation,
in Whom there is no separation
into hierarchical clusters
of gender, race, or class.
As we await that redemptive moment
of our cosmic liberation,
let us work to release from bondage
all who are imprisoned
in the quiet desperation
of their little locked lives.
Holy are You,
O One Who Frees.
We need your affirmation
now and forever.
Amen.
Miriam Therese Winter, WomanWord, 78

Illustration: Janet McKenzie, Holiness and the Feminine Spirit