Glimmers

Dear Friends,   

The light is fading here in New England, leaves are scattered everywhere and we’re entering a new season of our lives. I am grateful for the distinct seasonal changes in nature that support the shifts and movements within. As I settle in, gathering blankets around me and keeping my pot of tea nearby, I wonder what this time of increasing darkness will bring. What wisdom or insight will appear? Celtic tradition tells us that we are beginning a time of waiting, a time of reflection, where the veil is thin and mystery is close at hand.

As I prepare to receive what comes my way, I find myself thinking about hope. I’m interested in deepening my understanding of hope, especially at this stage of my life and in these times in our country and the world. Author Barbara Kingsolver tells me,

“The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. The most you can do is live inside that hope, running down its hallways, touching the walls on both sides.”

Can you imagine such a thing? Running down it’s hallways or placing your hands on the walls of Hope? My place of hope would also include those blankets and my favorite teapot, how about yours? It would include memories and dreams, tears and laughter. This room, or welcoming space named Hope, invites me in just as I am –  carrying my doubts and fears and my eager heart, too, as I embrace this new day. Here, the chaos is stilled, the pieces come together, Love is revealed.

I nestle into the quiet darkness around me, too soon the falling leaves will be replaced by snowflakes. But this year, I open my heart to Hope’s call to surrender and trust. I open my thoughts to Cynthia Bourgeault’s understanding of Hope’s mystery,

“Hope fills us with the strength to stay present, to abide in the flow of Mercy no matter what outer storms assail us. It is entered always and only through surrender; that is through the willingness to let go of everything we are presently clinging to. And yet when we enter it, it enters us and fills us with its own life – a quiet strength beyond anything we have ever known.”

Hopeful blessing on your dear hearts, Lisa

 

Dear Friends,

Loss diminishes our sense of wonder. Loss causes us to doubt that joy could ever be felt again. And if we do feel better, sometime in that far-away-future, its been so long we may not weave the strands of Loss and Wonder together. We may not realize the deep and important movements that are taking place. We’re just glad to be breathing.

This is my invitation today. …step into the Both/And of Loss and Wonder.

Though Loss weighs us down as an ever-present awareness that seems to be in direct conflict with Contentment and Joy, we have the capacity to transcend those rough edges.  In my experience, our Either/Or way of thinking leads us to believe that Loss and all of its attending feelings must end before we can possibly feel like smiling again. Either/Or sets us up with “Life is good” on one side and “Life is awful” on the other, and we see through one lens or the other. Both/And, or unitive, thinking expands our minds and allows us to make a space for both, even all, of the aspects of life.

Yes, life can be awful. The death of a loved one, the political climate, the plight of of the poor, refugees, and marginalized in our world are evidence of serious ruptures in our human experience. At the same time, (a very key and lovely phrase), we have known love, observed selfless people caring for others, experienced moments of peace in our hearts, enjoyed the delight of a child. Both/And consciousness allows us to make room for the fullness of the human experience and find nourishment in its tenderness and joy in its wonder. As we live and work with the very real challenges around and within us, Both/And invites us to reclaim the wonder of being alive.

I close with this message from Thich Nhat Hanh, “Our True Home.” Many blessings of wonder to each of you, Lisa

“Our true home is in the present moment.

To live in the present moment is a miracle.

The miracle is not to walk on water.

The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment, to appreciate the peace and beauty that are available now.

Peace is all around us -in the world and in nature -and within us – in our bodies and our spirits.

Once we learn to touch this peace, we will be healed and transformed.

It is not a matter of faith; it is a matter of practice.”

 

 

 

Dear Friends,       

I have been experiencing this Summer as a time of passage. I bet many of us have. Our year of pandemic lockdown, with the ongoing transitions and adjustments, has been so challenging. It feels like I have to work extra hard to be patient or relaxed or silly. But this faithful attention to my inner life is not just a by-product of these times, it is vital to live in 2021 and beyond.

Thomas Moore has something to say about passage,

 “You don’t go through a passage once and for all. You have repeated experiences that stun you briefly, cause you to rethink your life and your identity, and be in the world in a different way.”

Loss, for example, is a type of passage. We all know loss, each of us grieving the people and events of our lives in our own way. This shared pandemic experience, however, leads us through a passage at the same time, stuns us and causing some rethinking, at the same time, and teaches us how to be in the world in a different way, all at the same time.

Last month, I mentioned counting the days to see our eldest son, in person, after a 20 month separation. He was born 4 years after my mother died, following her life of waist-down paralysis from a car accident. As I gather my son and daughter-in-law in my arms, we will be sharing love, an adventure and, at the same time, a reminder of the great gift of family connection…all shining more brightly due to this extended separation. Our passage as a family has indeed caused me to rethink my life and identity, and reconsider another of Moore’s lessons…legacy. He tells us,

“A legacy can activate your heart and expand your vision…The sense of leaving a legacy can fit into the rhythm by offering not just an ending, but a feeling of completion…legacy is not about the size of our impact on those who will come after us, but only the fact of having been significant to someone.”

As I count the days until I hug my eldest son, I wonder what passages you have  experienced? What transitions have stunned you into deeper reflection? And on this new day, what legacy activates your heart and calls to you? How will your energy, your light, be present to others in the world? I do know that every bit of hope that we each can muster will make a difference. Let us join our hearts in the quiet moments, trusting God, praying for each other.

“In the stillness of the quiet, if we listen, we can hear the whisper of the heart giving strength to weakness, courage to fear, and hope to despair.” Howard Thurman

Peace, Lisa

 

Dear Friends,   

You’ve been in my heart these recent weeks, forgive my delay in writing this month’s Glimmer.

Call it Summer fun, call it Covid ennui, call it I’m-in-the-middle-of-a-17-book-series-about-Maisie-Dobbs-and-I can’t-stop-reading-!

But as July comes to a close, I think of you with such gratitude and affection. I hope you are well and that this message reminds you of our connection with each other, the universe, and with the Divine whose Light will not cease to be.

Recently, I was splashing in the YMCA pool with my friends Cathy, Nancy and Janet and remembered Cathy, Nancy and Janet from my childhood. It helps that these names are generational, doesn’t it? It’s not surprising to meet the same “crowd” from coast to coast, all these years later. But that access to my memory is a gift, drawing me into a time of innocence when playing was easy and expected, when friends shared imagination without filters and laughter filled the space. 

I’ve written to you about innocence before, I’m not sure why the theme is returning. Perhaps it’s the ongoing reflection about my childhood and the desire to write the memoir that has been waiting within. We all have our stories and the telling of them can be a form of connection that is very satisfying. In fact, psychologist and author, Thomas Moore teaches that my experiences of the “original” Cathy, Nancy and Janet are as alive as my life today! He encourages us to enjoy the fullness of who we are, as the years accumulate, bringing the vitality, laughter and innocence right along with us into present day.

I like that invitation, I like seeing my friends in my mind’s eye and seeing myself responding and joining in. This, for me, is a form of connection that grounds me as I go forward in this day and welcome the splashes that come my way. And you, friends, are part of that network of memory and affection. Thank you for filling my heart and sharing my journey. Thank you for teaching me about belonging.

peace, Lisa

 

Dear Friends,   

We’ve traveled through many topics these years together: loss, hope, authenticity, trust. Before and during the pandemic, we have considered the stories that teach us about ourselves, people and the world around us. Today, as June unfolds in it’s own unique way, we too are unfolding. We’re considering life outside of our “Covid cloud,” and wondering what it looks like….where do we belong?

I played squirt gun with my son last week, learned about his island on Animal Crossings, and I hugged him. Simple pleasures with an adult child, but after eighteen long months on different sides of the country they were everything. It felt like we shared a core part of our mother-son relationship, it felt like home.

This past year was filled with loss and adjustment, two areas of life that are challenging in the usual rhythms, but this year strained our capacity to cope. We learned patterns of survival which can restrict our ability to thrive. As we step back out into the world, we step back into ourselves in a new way – into those emotional touchstones that remind us of who we are and where we belong.

At least that’s how it is for me. The spontaneous tears that arrived as I wrapped my arms around my 6’2″ son, nourished my heart and eased the grief from this extended isolation. I’m grateful that this loss of physical contact is over and hold extra empathy for those whose loved ones cannot be hugged anymore. I pray that we all find ways to give voice to our losses and expression of our love. Those moments draw us into our heart of hearts, where Love resides, and holds us close. 

As life moves forward, may we trust the threads that tell us where we belong. May we be open to God’s blessing upon the sacred weaving of our lives, as we make meaning out of joy and sadness, new life and loss. May we learn the language of love in all it’s forms – squirt guns, hugs or quiet moments – and become emissaries of hope. That is my call, please join me. Let yourself love even when it hurts.

Lisa

I think my son enjoyed the hug too, and I can’t wait to wrap my arms around his brother in 97 days……96……95……

 

 

 

 

Dear Friends,                         

Spring has arrived at Lake Beseck! New life in the form of yellow-er goldfinches,  greening tree branches, and bright, red tulips popping up to say, “Hello!” The birds sound so happy! Trills call out, tweets and ch-ch-chats follow, geese honk as they stop by for a visit – but not for long, if the swans have their way. Strong swan wings create music as they flap in flight, chasing the geese or anyone who dares to trespass. New life on the lake, and I find myself, once again, grateful for the rhythm of seasons that invite reflection. I am grateful for the invitation for new life within myself, as well.

You have been on my mind, friends, April is almost over – how did that happen? I have been busy and fully engaged, I know that’s part of the reason that time is passing by so quickly. I have also been aware of the fullness of a day, the richness of a moment, for I have learned to slow down in new ways. The pandemic demanded that, I believe, it was a year like no other. This Spring is like no other, as well, isn’t it? New life is being birthed in each of us sitting upon our dear Earth. (I am mindful of my “sister” in Australia, whose seasonal rhythms are the opposite of mine, but no worries. New life and Spring extend beyond time and space, they are invitations to the soul.)

I was gifted with another invitation for my soul this week, it came in the form of two little girls. Five year old and four year old little packages of wonder and delight! They embodied Spring, I guess you could say, with their innocent faces, evolving language, and bright, little-girl colors. They touched a long-ago part of myself who remembers the joy in learning to balance, new shoes, and a neighborhood puppy. They gave me permission to embrace wonder, even if it makes me look like “that crazy lady down the street.” Joy is too precious to contain, friends… when it arrives – go for it!

We have traveled many paths together over the years. I pray that this time of new life brings ease into your day, joy into your heart, hope into the world around you.

With affection, Lisa

Dear Friends,             

I’ve started a new “practice.” I’m having lunch with my dad.

As I put together a salad or warm up some leftovers, I anticipate the warmth of our connection. Sometimes I light a candle, sometimes I just look outside, but always I experience a calm that I associate with his calm, his kindness, his deep love for me.

This is a big change from my life-long habit of talking, reading or looking at a screen while I eat. Of course, it’s a healthier choice too – I’m tasting the food, noticing my hunger or fullness, even slowing down and chewing mindfully.  My renewed commitment at 70 is affirmed by my dear dad, gone so long ago at 36.

I think you could call this new prayer experience a return to innocence. I imagine this nest of safety and love, myself as a little girl, and I gratefully rest here…held by loving arms, at peace, and experiencing deep trust. My dad speaks and strokes my hair, I am truly nourished. I hear Enigma’s words and see entrancing images as I return to innocence:

Don’t care what people say
Just follow your own way
Don’t give up and use the chance
To return to innocence

Irish poet and philosopher John O’Donohue speaks of our ancestors in the “Celtic circle of eternity.” In a recent post, Richard Rohr quotes O’Donohue’s vision, stating,

“The Celtic Irish tradition recognizes that the eternal and the transient worlds are woven in and through each other. Very often at death, the inhabitants of the eternal world come out toward the visible world.”

I’m grateful for Rohr and O’Donohue’s affirmation of the mystery that I am entering and I love Enigma’s video that illustrates something of my experience. But, mostly, I am content to sit here – in silence – with my dad.

I might just start having breakfast with him, too.

with love, Lisa

Dear Friends,

My husband and I have been living in our town for 14 years. It’s a rural community in central Connecticut of 4, 381 souls, where we are blessed with lakes, wooded areas, and all four of Earth’s seasons. When we first moved here, we commuted – one to the north, the other to the south – for work in the outer world. Now we stay home, rooted even more firmly this past year.

But our town has been redefined, hasn’t it? The borders have moved to include family and friends only available through the computer screen. The life-changing pandemic touches friends on the Connecticut shoreline and a child I will never meet in Peru…in Oakland…in Lesotho…in Assisi. The tragedies of Covid-19 and systemic racism have upended our small-town image of community and asked us to consider the family of humankind.

That’s such a hard leap, such a demanding task. I am only one person, with one set of gifts and limitations. How can I, or any of us, meet the needs of others that increase exponentially?

Recently, I was reminded of another town, Grover’s Corners, where Emily and George Gibbs entered the mystery of life and death. Their story, so lovingly told by Thornton Wilder in the play, “Our Town,” includes this brief conversation between George and his younger sister, Rebecca.

Rebecca: I never told you about that letter Jane Crofut got from her minister when she was sick. He wrote Jane a letter and on the envelope the address was like this – it said Jane Crofut; The Crofut Farm; Grover’s Corners; Sutton County; New Hampshire; United States of America.

George: What’s funny about that?

Rebecca: But listen, it’s not finished – the United States of America; Continent of North America; Western Hemisphere; the Earth; the Solar System; The Universe; the Mind of God – that’s what it said on the envelope!

George: What do you know?

Rebecca: And the postman brought it just the same!

You, me, Jane Crofut, all of us live inside the Mind of God. We are, indeed, a family of humankind – the five fingered ones, as a wise woman described recently. We share this planet, its resources and its challenges. We share the great mystery of experiencing a single snowflake, while opening our hearts to a symphony of stars, the promise of life, the gift of Love.

On this day, traditionally set aside to celebrate love, let us deepen our trust in the “Love that passeth all understanding, that you might be filled with the fullness of God,” and join our hearts and minds as one.

with love, Lisa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dear Friends,   

Six years ago, this month, I made a commitment to you. I made a commitment to myself, as well.

Each month, as I write from my heart, I reach out to your hearts, and share a story, an image, a message of hope. We are fellow travelers, at this moment in time. With God’s help, I choose to shine my unique light in this way. As Sue Monk Kidd reminds us in The Book of Longings, “Each of us must find a way to love the world.” It is my intention that by sharing a personal glimmer of hope, you and I might increase our connection in the universal realm of light and of love. It’s that simple and that profound, for I have every confidence in your light and your ways to love the world.

I’ve been aware of my Grief in response to the tragic and tumultuous times that surround us. The months of loss and chaos have accumulated, strained my reserves and have demanded new and deeper awareness of the gift of life. It isn’t easy, I often choose a path of distraction when I am overwhelmed by the losses through Covid, systemic racism and broken leadership. But denial and distraction don’t last. When I wake up to a new day, I have new choices. Today I listened to the bird’s morning chatter and gazed at the tree’s branches extending to the tiniest twig. I saw life.

On this new day, I think I’ll let Grief sit under the same blue sky that greets me. I think I’ll invite Grief to share a cup of tea, as I read the paper or get ready to fix dinner. I cannot chase away the losses that surround me, so I’ll ask Grief to guide me into a place of surrender, a place of trust in something greater than myself. This is how I will love the world today, as I make room for both sadness and hope to co-exist in my heart. 

I am grateful for our journey together. Our relationship invites me into that “soul place” that hears Love speak.

Blessings on this new day, Lisa

 

Dear Friends,                                   

I was walking the grounds of our local Christmas tree farm the other day. The tree was selected, sawed down, and traveling up the path on a very cool tree cart. In that moment, my little-girl-self appeared. She was content. I was content. The sky was blue, the air brisk, but comfortable, and the tree had two pine cones! Brown, oblong, their scales open in response to the dry air. No other decorations were needed on this tree, though more were sure to come, because these nature’s ornaments held on and were coming home!

She has shown up before, sweet little Lisa. With her set of memories and expectations, she’s often caught in the narrative from long ago. She sees the world around me through the lens of loss and tragedy – but that was her world, not mine. Christmas is filled with similar opportunities of getting lost in time, memories and expectations are everywhere! Perhaps it’s one of those “thin places” that mystics tell us about. Our long ago experiences are with us still… haunting us, reminding us, seeding the memories of joy, of loss, of whatever our hearts encountered in years past.

This particular Christmas brings its own set of challenges, doesn’t it? I do not need reminders of past losses or limitations, for this Christmas has plenty to spare.

And so, I greet the pine cones hanging on the Christmas tree. Today they are surrounded by colored lights and happy bells, clever elves and angels of peace. And so am I. You will find me sitting in the silent dark of each morning, taking in the wonder of Christmas. These humble pinecones remind me of the gift of small things, of the taken-for-granted things that are all around me. They remind me of steadfast friends and moments of peace, and yes, the cycle of death and life. This Christmas I return to the humble stable, and praise the birth of Love.

That is my gift to you, dear friends, the reminder that Love is in our midst  – in one another, in our own hearts – all the time!

What ‘love’ is I don’t know,
if it’s not the response of
our deepest natures to one another.

~William Carlos Williams

With love,

Lisa