within oneself... the Beloved

 “Within oneself, very clearly, is the best place to look [for the Beloved]… and it’s not necessary to go to heaven, nor any further than our own selves; for to do so is to tire the spirit and distract the soul, without gaining as much fruit.”

~Teresa of Ávila, Collected Works, vol I, 357

It has been way too long since I last posted—and I have so much to tell you about!

There’s a new book, a new baby, a landmark anniversary, an upcoming gathering, a new beginning… where do I begin?

After a string of several days of violent and downright scary storms here in Oklahoma, the past couple of days our weather has been lovely, with chilly nights and plenty of sunshine.

And I simply can’t get enough of being outside.

Sometimes I am in awe at how much nature affects me, how deeply it blesses and renews my spirit. It’s not about just recognizing the beauty in creation—and the hand of the Creator, but about the peace and grace I find just being in it.

I know, I know. Nature can also be fierce, unpredictable, combustible, extreme. Trust me. I know. I live in Oklahoma!

But no matter what I need, or what emotional state I’m in, or how much anxiety I’m fighting, or what feelings are bubbling from deep inside me, or how dry my prayer life seems… I look at the clouds in the sky, or listen to the concert put on by the birds in my backyard, or feel the wind come sweeping down the plains and across my face—and I breathe deeper.

God is here. The Beloved is within me… and I can rest in the Beloved.

I have so much to tell you! But that’s enough for now...

sit still...and turn your eyes around

Golden leaves carpet the woodland floor 

And the branches of the trees,  

With colours ranging from gold leaf 

To rustic copper is something to adore.

~Autumn leaves by David Wood

Read the whole poem here.

Go, sit upon the lofty hill, 

And turn your eyes around, 

Where waving woods and waters wild 

Do hymn an autumn sound. 

The summer sun is faint on them — 

The summer flowers depart — 

Sit still — as all transform’d to stone, 

Except your musing heart.

~The Autumn by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Read the whole poem here.

I have a blanket of giant, sycamore leaves covering our front yard.

I love taking walks in the neighborhood on days like today, right after a strong and windy cold front comes through town. No one’s had a chance to “clean things up,” giving me a chance to kick the overflowing leaves covering the sidewalks!

                                                  

There is something intuitively contemplative about this time of year.

The brilliant colors. The shorter and shorter daylight.  The sounds of wind and crispy dry leaves. The expanding barren landscape.

Nature’s rhythmic transition seems to demand that I stop and take notice. It creates in me a mood of introspection, reflection, and wonder.

I’m being invited to make time to be, not just do. Wishing the same for you!

Elenita reminds me to stop, notice, and play!

Friday treat: God is my repairer of fences

A few years ago, I discovered Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit, a Discalced Carmelite nun who lived a faithful life as a member of the Mother of God Carmel in Pewaukee, Wisconsin.

That life-giving commitment is in itself worthy of our thanksgiving and praise. Yet Sister Miriam, born in 1905 as Jessica Powers, was also a prolific poet. Nearly 300 of her 400 poems have been published in periodicals and books, including America Magazine, the sign, and Commonweal.

This is the first of her poems that I fell in love with:

Repairer of Fences

I am alone in the dark, and I am thinking

what darkness would be mine if I could see

the ruin I wrought in every place I wandered

and if I could not be

aware of One who follows after me.

Whom do I love, O God, when I love Thee?

The great Undoer who has torn apart

the walls I built against a human heart,

the Mender who has sewn together the hedges

through which I broke when I went seeking ill,

the Love who follows and forgives me still.

Fumbler and fool that I am, with things around me

and of fragile make like souls, how I am blessed

and to hear behind me footsteps of a Savior!

I sing to the east; I sing to the lighted west:

God is my repairer of fences, turning my paths into rest.

Isaiah 58:12 (Douay)

"Jessica Powers is an artist, painting in words the movements of the heart, the aspirations of the soul, the homelessness of a pilgrim people, the joys and sufferings of the mystic, the song and dance of those in love, the beauties of creation," noted Bishop Robert Morneau in the Introduction of “The Selected Poetry of Jessica Powers,” an anthology of her poetry which she approved five weeks before her death in 1988.

Sister Miriam's "Scotch-Irish ancestry, her many years of rural living, her love of St. John of the Cross, her desire to draw people into the presence of God,” wrote Bishop Morneau, “have all radically influenced her poetry and her life"--and that of her readers.

Jessica Powers, Sister Miriam of the Holy Spirit, served God in the midst of her people--and the song she heard in her heart continues to bless us today.

For a Lover of Nature

Your Valley trails its beauty through your poems,

the kindly woods, the majestic river.

Earth is your god-or goddess, you declare,

mindful of what good time must one day give her

of all you have. Water and rocks and trees

hold primal words born out of genesis.

But love is older than these...

Go here to see the entire poem, "For a Lover of Nature."

the nature of hope... hope in nature

On the banks of the Río Frío, Leakey, TX

“Our life finds tongues in trees,
books in running brooks,
sermons in stone and
good in everything.”

            ~William Shakespeare in “As You Like It,” Act II, Scene 1

From the spectacular Caribbean ocean waters of my childhood, to the serene Oklahoma wheat fields of my adult life, a love of nature has been a constant in my life.

Yes, I am an island girl, a beach lover. And, undeniably, it is standing at the edge of an ocean looking out into infinity that I most clearly and intimately catch a peek into God’s eternal nature.

Walking North Padre Island, TX

I love the shifting personality of the beach—from season to season, day to day, hour to hour.  Because, as Tom Hank’s character Chuck noted in the movie “Castaway,” “Who knows what the tide could bring?”

Yet rather than confine my ability and desire to experience God, my intense experience of God at the water’s edge simply magnifies my sense of God’s presence all around me. Like a toddler, I find myself shrieking, “More, more!” with every new encounter of God’s grandeur in creation.

Sunrise on plane, between Milwaukee & Denver

This weekend as I flew home from Milwaukee via Denver, I experienced yet another stunning sunrise, although this time without my Elena to enjoy it with!  As our plane neared Denver, I was surprised and awed as the land beneath me began to turn white.

But the best part of the landscape experience that morning came two hours later, as I flew out again, this time on my way to Oklahoma. What had previously looked like a solid white blanket of snow interrupted only by rivers and roads, had now become alive with brown and green ridges noting the landscape’s topographical differences.

Previously hidden by snow, the curves on the fields – like roots – now formed an outline resembling a bouquet of circles and rectangles.

Nature, like life, is continually changing. Is there a greater source of hope?

my backyard, 2012

Psalm 104: a meditation in pictures

Bless the Lord, O my soul.

    O Lord my God, you are very great.

You are clothed with honor and majesty,

    wrapped in light as with a garment.

Pamplona poppies, 2003

You stretch out the heavens like a tent,

    you set the beams of your chambers on the waters,

you make the clouds your chariot,

    you ride on the wings of the wind,

you make the winds your messengers,

    fire and flame your ministers.

Sea of Galilee, 2012

You set the earth on its foundations,

    so that it shall never be shaken.

You cover it with the deep as with a garment;

    the waters stood above the mountains.

mountains in Galicia, España, 2003

From your lofty abode you water the mountains;

    the earth is satisfied with the fruit of your work.

Río Frío, Leakey, TX, 2005

The trees of the Lord are watered abundantly,

    the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.

In them the birds build their nests;

    the stork has its home in the fir trees.

You make darkness, and it is night,

    when all the animals of the forest come creeping out.

California coast, 2006

O Lord, how manifold are your works!

    In wisdom you have made them all;

    the earth is full of your creatures.

Yonder is the sea, great and wide,

    creeping things innumerable are there,

    living things both small and great.

Teresa's backyard, 2011

These all look to you

    to give them their food in due season...

When you send forth your spirit, they are created;

    and you renew the face of the earth.

Malibu, CA, 2006

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live;

    I will sing praise to my God while I have being.

May my meditation be pleasing to him,

    for I rejoice in the Lord...

Bless the Lord, O my soul.

Praise the Lord!

Knowing the Way

Monarch butterflies are astonishing creatures. Every Spring, tens of millions of monarchs leave their Winter refuge deep in central Mexico to journey to the southern states in the U.S., where each butterfly proceeds to lay hundreds of eggs. That generation, and sometimes the following generation of monarchs, then continues trekking across North America through June—arriving as far north as Canada’s prairie provinces of Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba.

At the end of summer, the monarch butterflies turn around and flutter 3,000 miles south, back to Mexico’s Michoacán Forest for the Winter.

monarch sightings Fall 2012

This time of year, their journey takes them right through central Oklahoma. Even though the hot and dry summer has diminished the number of migrating monarchs this year, I have been delighted to watch the winged beauties dancing through and even roosting on the oak trees in our backyard this week.

I love the fact that scientists cannot explain their circular journey. They simply don’t know how these subsequent generations of monarchs can orient themselves and navigate each year towards a place they've never been before.

Pondering this miracle in nature, I can’t help but think of our wondrous God, “who made heaven and earth and sea and all that is in them”—a God who, like tending to the details of every single monarch, fills me with daily nourishment and gladness of heart.

monarchs traveling through Oklahoma 2012

By the way, if you want to become a “citizen scientist” and assist in the tracking of monarchs, drop by: http://www.learner.org/jnorth/monarch/