On Being a Contemplative

 

 Proverbs 25:11

"A word at the right time is like apples of gold 

in a network of silver."

Yesterday  I had a breakthrough.

 

It was one  of those epiphany moments

 when something you have known your whole life,

which others have told you

 so that on one level

 you accept the truth of it,

yet at another,
 push away from yourself 

with a sort of 

"but how can these things be"  feeling;

 (but without the humility).

My then spiritual director's voice 
comes to me from 

 years back as I write.

" I think your problem is 

you have never truly accepted

 you are a contemplative."

Well how right she was.  

More accurately perhaps 

I did not know exactly what 

"being a contemplative"

 meant.

Then yesterday reading the wonderful

http://blueeyedennis-siempre.blogspot.com/

(yes, I'm directing you there again.

"Updating Embracing The Leper" post,
 the part in green writing ),

the penny dropped.
This was my "word at the right time".

I suddenly saw that,

"being a contemplative"

 simply means seeing the Beloved,

(the Absolute,

the Divine,

God,...)

EVERYWHERE

IN ALL THINGS 

THROUGHOUT ALL THINGS

TO KNOW THAT ALL IS ONE

AND THAT THIS IS NOT A BETRAYAL OF MY FAITH,

(which some deep part of me 

has so feared)

BUT RATHER,

 IT'S CONSUMMATION. 

If  you could know 

the religious boxes

 I have tried to fit into;

(I who know only too well 

that God is beyond

 any formula),

you would surely know

 what a fool I am;

how incredibly slow to learn;

yet how faithfully,

patiently,

surely,
 yet loosely,

 the Beloved has held me,

and led me.

If none of this makes sense to you,

or seems applicable to you,

at least do take this for yourself.

 Just as faithfully,

as patiently, 

as trusting in the power

 of his/her  own grace,

and of you,

(for that is what

 this loose holding of us means),

is the love that holds you,

now and always.

What a true Valentine!

BE BLESSED

 

Monday's A Go!

Photo by West Midlands Buses in Photographs

(Apologies.  This is a bit long!) 

A Monday morning with the snow slowly dribbling away underfoot,

a damp mist hovering and clinging,

and we had to make a trip into town to the bank.

I'm still a week away from being allowed to drive after surgery so,

not wanting to trouble folks who've offered us transport
should we need it,

and being of the generation who think taxis an extravagance,

we opted to go by bus.

We were at the stop in time but waited for over half an hour,

and as the two buses which should have come didn't,

we hopped on one going somewhere else,

and re-routed just to get in out of the cold.

Two buses and an hour or so later,
(we did have a cuppa stop),

we reached our destination
having taken just over four times as long as usual.

On the way back we found there have been no buses going our way

for over forty minutes,

but when a bus did come,
rather than leave us to shiver the driver generously 

allowed us all to cram in,

although it was already standing room only.

Jammed together like un-oiled sardines

there was much grumbling, and joking;

comparing details about the length of wait,

and much polite helping one another 

to squeeze further down the bus,

or towards the exit should some unfortunate

need to insinuate themselves between the shopping bags,

bodies, and baby buggy
to get off.

(How DO people give each other a sense of boundaries
whilst pressed against each other,
  swaying and grabbing at anything within reach to stay upright?
It must be in keeping the eyes averted.)

Sure enough a lady in a cheerful red coat warned me
not to look directly at a certain man.

"There's something not right there.

He's apt to be very abusive if you catch his eye."

A muscular young man offered his arm to steady

an elderly lady, 

whilst another used colourful language to regale
anybody within earshot about his trip

to see his probation officer,
and how he needed to get to court

"to iron some things out". 

Fearful of either encouraging him to further familiarity 
or upsetting him by ignoring him,
those near him made vague reciprocal noises while,
yes, avoiding his eye.

Women's voices,
the older fabric of the mini comunity created a 
comforting warp and weft,
 
"Did you go last night Eileen?"
"I did not..."


"Can you believe I only went into town for
one fancy button for that cardi I'm knitting..."

Next to me a slim young mum with toddler in tow

squashed by my side

and managed to juggle her mobile phone to her ear

and assure a school that she WAS on her way 

to pick up her other child.

Another pale faced young mum jiggled the buggy
with increasing anxiety

as her babe's cries grew more frantic.

And there we were, brought to a halt,

caught in the mess of traffic
and held in some sort of un-wanted intimacy

by a series of road works.

Eventually, windows streaming with condensation,

  we began to inch our way out of the gridlock.

  Tucked into a corner behind the driver I 
saw how after battling to make the exit
from their far from comfortable journey,
at every stop, almost without exception,
despite their haste each passenger turned their head 
to thank the driver.

"Most of the world remains unknown to us.
Most people remain strangers.
This is one of the shocking things about travel;
....we can descend...
right into the middle of an  ongoing life.
...This is the fascination of encounter...
The stranger can bring blessings and encouragement.

...(or) destruction and negativity."

John O'Donohue.

Go Well~Be Blessed

P.S.  In mitigation of West Midlands Transport my daughter who travels on two buses each day to and from work, tells me our experience was unusual; and I think if I'm fit to undergo yesterday I'm more than fit to drive, don't you?

Winter's Promise

This morning as I looked out on the frozen world 
beyond my window my attention was caught by the seeming lifelessness before me, and I found myself thinking,
what seems frozen and lifeless

can become

  warm and radiant with life again

 if we just remain open,

even a little, 
and wait.

But I know the very thought of being open ever again,

even to the softest touch,

can sometimes be too much for us.

We can feel too bruised,

too empty to take the risk.

All we feel able for is staying in the numbing dark.

And indeed at times there is healing in that...

So I began to write my thoughts,

and got as far as posting them,

but unsatisfied,

I returned to my laptop and on impulse
went to a wonderful blog, I often dip into,

http://blueeyedennis-siempre.blogspot.com

only to find it dealing with exactly the thoughts
I'd had pressing on me,

but much better, and in greater depth.

Feeling this was more than just coincidence
I jettisoned my earlier post and

if you feel moved to, do click on the link

and take some of the wisdom and comfort offered there, 
either for yourself, 
or to enrich and inform your prayers for those in need.

Or perhaps if that's too much to take on board

you can listen to 

"Lay Your hands gently Upon Us"

 

 and let that speak.

 *

As gently as the snow falls here at this moment,

so gently may the green shoots 

of our healing

be covered,

and nurtured,

this week end.