Out of the Ashes Beauty Will Rise

Hold on, hold on

Life will rise

Greening over

The burnt bits the ashes

Pain fades and

One day

You will open your hand and

Watch it go

Smoke curling into the sky

And what will be left, you ask

You, eternal, beautiful you

Standing tall 

Waving in the currents

Of the wind.

                                          ~ Claire Gryffn

On a walk in a nearby nature reserve we came across a hill that had burned down a few years ago.  I marveled at the intense green of the moss in such sharp contrast with the blackened stumps still around.  I realized what so many others---thousands, millions, billions maybe---have realized before: no matter how painful, how devastated, how burnt and dead, there is always the chance for resurrection, maybe not in the same form, but in some other way that could be even more beautiful than before.  I have always loved the thought that hearts need to be broken to allow the light in. 

Blessed be.

In the Tomb of the Soul

We went to an Easter service at the Unitarian Universalist church this morning.  It was deep and lovely and very touching.   Here's one of the readings:

Rolling Away the Stone


In the tomb of the soul, 
we carry secret yearnings, pains, frustrations
loneliness, fears, regrets, worries


In the tomb of the soul
we take refuge from the world
and its heaviness


In the tomb of the soul
we wrap ourselves in the security of darkness---
sometimes this is a comfort
sometimes it is an escape
sometimes it prepares us for experience
sometimes it insulates us from life


Sometimes this tomb-life gives us time
to feel the pain of the world
and reach out to heal others.
Sometimes it numbs us
and locks us up with our own concerns.


In this season where light and dark balance the day,
we seek balance for ourselves.


Grateful for the darkness that has nourished us
we push away the stone and invite the light 
to awaken us to the possibilities
within us and among us---
possibilities for new life in ourselves and in our world.


One of the many things that struck me in this reading was how rolling away a stone in front of a tomb is an act of love.  When you are inside the tomb you may not be able to roll away your own stone.  But someone can do it for you---someone who is not put off  by what might lurk inside, someone who wants to let in the light simply because they care about you.  And once they have, and you emerge, and you see the light,  then you can do it for someone else. And so, rolling away the stone is a collective effort.

I would be remiss if I don't add a link to the song "Roll Away Your Stone" by Mumford and Sons here.

Not the Destination

T.S. Eliot claimed that "April is the cruelest month, mixing memory with desire."  I'd argue that that distinction goes to March.   Here, high up in the Northern hemisphere, I know that February is brutal---I expect nothing less.

I have tried to train myself again and again not to be fooled by March, but every year I fall anew for her trickery.  One day she opens her hand and gives you wonderful soul-nourishing warmth and then the very next, she snatches it away.  Just as your optimism has been kindled, she whacks you over the head with a frozen fish of a day.  Worst is when she gives you bright sunshine with an icy breeze.  I bet March laughs when she sees us heading out in our cool clothes just to run back into the house after five minutes to get out winter jackets.

This past Sunday was just such a day---bright and sunny, but cold.  I itched to get out of the house, to soak up some of that nice sunshine, but where to go?  I imagined a coffee shop which faced west where we could sit in the sun and have tea and a scone.

I force the kids out of the house.  "Enough with sitting in the house playing video games.  Get your shoes and jackets on.  Dad and I'll be waiting in the car. Chop-chop!"

Grumble grumble grumble, but they comply, as children generally do.

We've been driving for about seven minutes when the question comes:  "Where are we going?"
"To a coffee shop."
"Which one?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"I'm looking for one that faces west so we can sit in the sun."
"You mean, you have no destination in mind?"
"I do have a destination in mind."
"Then where is it?"
"I told you already, I don't know.  We're going to drive around until we find something we like."
Collective moaning from the back seat.
"I don't like this!" 
"I absolutely always need a destination otherwise I get very upset! 
"Can you please take us home!"

"Please keep quiet and look out of your windows to see if you can see a coffee shop with sun shining into it," I say.

"How can you go somewhere if you don't know where you're going?"
At this point my irritation level is starting to rise but I keep my calm, confident that when we find that coffee shop, and when they have a treat in front of them, it will be all worth it.

"Anyway," I say, "we're explorers.  This is what exploring is.  You set forth to see what you can see.  If you always only go to the places you know, you'll never see anything new."
"We don't want to explore..." Moan moan moan.

Rudolph and I look at each other.  What were we thinking.  This is hell.  At least they aren't fighting with one another.  But they are starting to bicker.  When it gets too loud Rudolph tells them to quiet down.  They only do it for a minute.  Pretty soon the noise has reached a level that makes it impossible for us to have a conversation.  We ask them to be quieter again.  Once again they comply for about a minute.

Then suddenly, despite all my high hopes, despite all my best efforts, I lose it.  I yell at the kids. I tell them that I am sorry I brought them with and that I am never going to do it again and that they are ungrateful little brats.  I listen to myself but can't seem to make myself stop.  I am behaving like a two year old.

They're quiet in the back seat.  I am fuming in the front seat.
"Where are we even?" I spit out.  "I have no idea where we are."
Rudolph asks "Do you want me to turn on the gps?"
"No!" 
Who's the child now? some part of me asks.

I drive along, tasting my regrets.  I regret everything---and I mean everything: that I had children, that I was born, that I am living in a place that makes me go in search of coffee shops so I can sit in the sun, (I don't regret marrying Rudolph though) I regret having such a temper and so little patience.  I regret being lazy in the morning because that always puts me in a bad mood.

I am still stewing in my regrets along a pretty and winding road which I hardly notice when, right in front of me is a sign that says "Wilson's Farms."

"Hey, look!" I can't help calling out, "It's Wilson's Farms."  I've always wanted to go there but whenever I look for it I never seem to find it, and here it is, right in front of us.

I pull into the parking lot.  The sun is shining.  Below us we can see into the green houses where plants are thriving.  I unfasten my seat belt and turn to the kids.  They look at me with big wary eyes.

Now I regret yelling.  I regret the mean things I said.

A friend told me a while ago that the key to healthy relationships is not to try to never tear them, because that's almost impossible given that we're all just human.  No, the key to good relationships is how well you mend the tears that do occur.

I own up to my childish behavior.  I apologize for everything I said.  I say that I take it all back and that I didn't mean it and that I was just angry and frustrated.  They open their hearts like children do and let their forgiveness flow out to me. I soak up the warmth of  their love.

Now that we're all smiling again, we pile out of the car and into the store.  It is bustling with people who all seem in a good mood.  There isn't a coffee shop, but there is a bakery.  We buy apple pie and hot cross buns.  We walk around for a few minutes and pile back into the car.  We point the car in the direction that we think is home and without a map or a gps we find our way back.  The road seems to unfurl itself in front of us.  Like a red carpet it leads us to our house where now the sun is lighting up the living room.  We make tea, sit on our couch, and eat our apple pie.

"We should do this again," my middle daughter says and the other two children agree.

Daffodils

Yesterday we invited some friends over for dinner.  Among other things (wine, good cheer, kids) they brought flowers (daffodils and tulips).  

Daffodils are my favorite flowers---I have a special soft spot for them.  I ask myself why I love them so much.  Here are some of the reasons: they are a promise of the sunshine to come; their outer petals are like an open hand offering a chalice of gold; they smell so beautiful; the first time I read the poem "The Daffodils" by William Wordsworth it opened up the world of poetry for me.  I memorized the poem (though I often forget the last few lines).  

I wish I could go and have a conversation with Mr. Wordsworth.  I like to imagine it would go something like this:

"Mr. Wordsworth,"  I would say, "remember how once you saw a field of daffodils and you wrote a poem about it and the poem was about how often, when you lay on your couch, you'd think back to the daffodils you saw?"  

"Yes....and your point is...?"

"My point is that because of your poem, I, too, saw the fields of daffodils so that now your memory has become mine, and when I lie on my couch I recall the poem which recalls your memory.  So thank you for writing it.  It has given me a lot of joy throughout the years."

"Oh, well, I don't know what to say.  Would you like some tea and then afterwards I can show you what I am working on right now."

And here is the poem.  Read it slowly, or better, close your eyes and ask someone to read it to you:

          I WANDERED lonely as a cloud
          That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
          When all at once I saw a crowd,
          A host, of golden daffodils;
          Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
          Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

          Continuous as the stars that shine
          And twinkle on the milky way,
          They stretched in never-ending line
          Along the margin of a bay:                                  
          Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
          Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

          The waves beside them danced; but they
          Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
          A poet could not but be gay,
          In such a jocund company:
          I gazed--and gazed--but little thought
          What wealth the show to me had brought:

          For oft, when on my couch I lie
          In vacant or in pensive mood,                               
          They flash upon that inward eye
          Which is the bliss of solitude;
          And then my heart with pleasure fills,
          And dances with the daffodils.

I was looking for a picture to put here but did not find anything that looks like what I imagine the poet saw.

Forgiveness

I used to think that forgiveness was a feeling that I had to wait for---once I felt the feeling, I could forgive the other person.

Last year, I had a moment of clarity.  One morning I woke up and realized that forgiveness is not a feeling at all.  It is an action---more specifically, it's a choice.  It's the choice to let go of blame, anger, pain, and feeling yourself a victim of the situation.  No longer did I have to wait until I felt better about someone or something, I could be proactive and forgive and carry on with my life without the extra baggage.  And why would I not forgive?  We are after all products of our particular circumstances, our nurturing and our genetic make-up.  The poet, Maya Angelou said it best:

"We do the best we can with what we know, and when we know better, we do better."

If you are holding onto pain caused by another, forgive them.  Forgiveness is a gift to others, but most of all you will find that it is a gift to yourself.

Better Days by Eddie Vedder

When I fall in love with a song, I just want to listen to it again and again.  This is the song I am currently in love with.  Hope you like it too! 

I feel part of the universe open up to meet me

My emotion so submerged, broken down to kneel in

Once listening, the voices they came

Had to somehow greet myself, read myself

Heard vibrations within my cells, in my cells

My love is safe for the universe

See me now, I'm bursting

On one planet, so many turns

Different worlds

Fill my heart with discipline

Put there for the teaching

In my head see clouds of stairs

Help me as I'm reaching

The future's paved with better days

Not running from something
I'm running towards the day
Wide awake

Feelings, Thoughts, and Actions

I feel! that I have chosen to come to this planet to explore and experience feelings.  It seems an excellent place to do so.  I am talking of course  about feelings of both a sensory and an emotional nature.

This planet seems just about the most perfect place anyone can imagine to experience feelings.   Let's consider just one thing: fruit.

From an evolutionary perspective, all that was needed to encourage us to eat fruit, was for fruit to taste sweet.  But fruit does not only taste sweet, nor is sweet the only taste we are able to experience when eating fruit.  No, there are so many varieties of fruit and they are all different in taste and texture, not to mention how they look and smell, and we lucky earthlings have the capacity to experience all of those differences.

But in this posting I want to explore specifically feelings of an emotional nature.  It seems we can't help but feel.  We are creatures born to feel.  Whatever we feel physically, evokes a feeling emotionally.  We feel pretty much during all of our waking moments.  We may not always be aware of our feelings, but they are always there, just below the surface.   We can not not feel.  We also can't control our feelings.  Maybe I am wrong.  Maybe some people can control their feelings.  I know I can't.  I also don't think I should try to.

Feelings are packets of information about myself, the people in my life, and my environment.  They are the letters that my spirit sends to itself about how it's going down here so far.   But, if I can't and shouldn't control my feelings, does that mean I should let them control me?  Not at all.  They should inform me, but they shouldn't control me.

I have come here to this planet not by myself but with others.

 Part of that deal is that we will live together here and, in order to do so, we agree to abide by certain rules.  Personal feelings have to be balanced by the rules I accepted when I signed up for earth.  What are the rules I accepted? To try to love others as I love myself---to try to be a good a human as possible.

My personal feelings may not always want me to abide by those rules.   I might feel like I want to yell at the slow driver in front of me, or grab the last of the ice cream, or stay seated while other people are working.  But doing that would break the rules that I agreed to, so I try not to let my feelings dictate my actions. I let them inform me.  I learn through my feelings that I get agitated when I am late.  That means I might need to budget more time when I travel.  I learn through my feelings that I like ice cream and I like it so much that I am tempted to act selfishly.

So, feelings can't be controlled, and should be seen as information.  Actions, on the other hand can be controlled, and should be. I believe that we are always responsible for how we act.  There is nothing more to say about it.  We are responsible.  If our actions hurt others, we are responsible.  If there were good reasons for why our actions hurt others, we are still responsible.

If we can not control our feelings and if we shouldn't even try to, and if we are responsible for our actions, do we have any wiggle room between these two?  I think so.  Our thoughts stem from our feelings and they can inform our actions.  I think we can control our thoughts.  It's not always easy, but it can be done.  I can replace a negative thought springing from a certain feeling which wants to lead to a negative action, with a different thought---one that would lead to a different action.  I can replace the thought "Jerk!" that arises when someone drives aggressively with "Maybe he's in a hurry.  I know nothing about his life."  If I allow myself to think "Jerk" that would most likely spur me onto an aggressive response, and I'd be responsible for that.  Thinking "Maybe he is in a hurry.  I know nothing about his life," opens up the possibility in me to let it go.

I can replace "I will grab the last ice cream before anyone else can" with "There is no food scarcity, I don't need to eat it now" or even "I'll take one bite and really savor it and leave some for someone else."

So, to sum up:  Feelings are information; we can not control them and we shouldn't try to.
Actions can be controlled and should be since we are responsible for everything we do.
Thoughts are the tools which can be used as a means to navigate between feelings and actions.  We can control them.  It's not easy but it's possible.  At least I feel it's possible.

And that concludes my early mornings thoughts and feelings about feelings, thoughts, and actions.  I feel now that I want to put the laptop down and snuggle under my blankets.  I think I will listen to my feelings.