One look at the night sky, and I know why I'm not meant to live in a city - it holds great healing power for me. Gazing deeply into the night reminds me of how it feels to gaze upon someone who is beloved. And perhaps that is what I am doing - gazing into the face of God.
I arrived at the Monastery after a beautiful drive into autumn (thank you, weather forecast, for being wrong). Just a little hint of red and yellow along the roadside...and a velvet covering of sage/gray surrounding White Bird Hill. Each mile brought a deepening of my breath, and freedom to my shoulders (my habitual storage site for tension). Once settled in my room, I began a familiar routine, including sitting at the window and watching the night sky emerge.
Only tonight instead of stars, the sky filled with clouds.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good cloudscape (and the recent weather has meant no disappointment in the cloudscape department). But I wasn't looking for clouds tonight, and started to get up to close the blinds when that inner voice said "wait."
So I waited. Slowly, the clouds disappeared, and a vibrant night sky emerged. What a sight! I watched for the longest time, when I decided more would be better (time to go outside). This was when I realized that I may have remembered to bring half my library with me, but I definitely forgot my jacket. No matter; I bundled up in layers, and headed out through the lounge door to - glory! The leaves are still on the trees (shielding the lights from the Inn), and so from my dark little patch of mud (rain earlier today), I had a brilliant view of the Milky Way. I watched this glorious sight until my joints were frozen and the back of my head felt permanently stuck to my shoulders. I quietly chanted one of my favorite prayer chants: "All my fears fall to you, O Kind One who hears, and knows only love." Then - silence.
Was Joseph Campbell right - is our greatest goal to be able to have our heart beat in sync with the heartbeat of the universe? For a second tonight...perhaps...maybe...
...yes.
Sometimes waiting makes all the difference...as does showing up.
Breathing deeply,
Kim
Monday, September 30, 2013
Monday, September 9, 2013
The Rain, a Lake, and 4 Drunk Bikers
Teachers come in many forms. Yesterday I sat and watched a grasshopper eat a blade of grass - I had to slow down and focus in order to appreciate this remarkable teacher. Today my first teacher was the rain.
I woke up today before dawn, hoping to walk on East Inlet. But the sky said rain, and I didn't want to risk walking on wet rocks. I felt a twinge of disappointment, since the trail is where I have powerful encounters with Spirit. As I thought about this I began to laugh - as if God's presence and interaction with me is determined by my location! I instead went down and sat on my very favorite bench on the dock of the lake, and opened my heart to, well, whatever might happen.
At first the lake was extremely still - mirror like - reflecting the mountains that surround her on two sides. The detail of the reflection was incredible! I thought about the lake - it is very deep and still (at that moment). Yesterday it had whitecaps, but in this moment it was still. I felt drawn to that image - the stillness - and allowed myself to settle into a deep place of quiet.
A few minutes later the surface of the lake began to show interesting patterns - delightful designs. Soon the designs changed and looked almost electric - alive - energetic (it reminded me of that scene from the movie "Close Encounters" when the alien ship and humans began communicating with flashing lights and musical tones). The patterns danced and played on the surface of the water - deep and still yet alive and energetic! I was mesmerized by what I was seeing! And then, out towards the center of the lake, an area the size of a small car began to light up and shimmer like fireworks - diamonds - an incredible display! I closed my eyes and then looked one more time - it was still there! Slowly it settled down, and the patterns resumed. I offered thanks for the possibility of deep stillness with energetic beauty - a display to rival any fireworks show! Can I find that kind of balance in my life?
In the late afternoon (rain) I drove the Kawuneeche Valley one more time, drinking in the beauty of the Never Summer Mountains (my favorites next to Baldy), all the young trees that did well this summer, and the amazing beauty of the headwaters of the Colorado River. As the rain increased, I headed back to the cabin to read, rest, and prepare to leave tomorrow.
And there I met my new teachers - four drunk bikers staying in the cabin next to mine. They have been hard at drinking and smoking since early afternoon (impressive display of empty bottles lining the railing) and are doing this on the deck, so I cannot sit out there, and cannot leave my windows or door open for the smoke. Even with the cabin buttoned up, I can hear them clearly. I come here for peace - they come here to party. And they are my teachers tonight because I do not want to hold onto the feelings I have toward them. Yes, I feel justified, but what good does it do me to fill my heart and mind with anger, frustration, entitlement and righteous indignation? It has no impact on them (they seem quite happy - and loud). I am the one sitting in here contemplating their demise, and stuffing my heart with anger.
I am also in the process of reading David R. Hawkins book "Letting Go - The Pathway of Surrender." It is one of the best (and most challenging) books I have read this year - even though I do not agree with all his observations. Learning to acknowledge emotions without feeding them is not easy; choosing to instead strengthen positive emotions is harder still. It seems tonight I will have ample opportunity to practice these lessons. Frankly, I would rather not practice this at all - which means I have found another growing edge.
"May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be free from suffering. May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be filled with love." And may they be quiet! (It is a process...)
Sigh -
Kim
I woke up today before dawn, hoping to walk on East Inlet. But the sky said rain, and I didn't want to risk walking on wet rocks. I felt a twinge of disappointment, since the trail is where I have powerful encounters with Spirit. As I thought about this I began to laugh - as if God's presence and interaction with me is determined by my location! I instead went down and sat on my very favorite bench on the dock of the lake, and opened my heart to, well, whatever might happen.
At first the lake was extremely still - mirror like - reflecting the mountains that surround her on two sides. The detail of the reflection was incredible! I thought about the lake - it is very deep and still (at that moment). Yesterday it had whitecaps, but in this moment it was still. I felt drawn to that image - the stillness - and allowed myself to settle into a deep place of quiet.
A few minutes later the surface of the lake began to show interesting patterns - delightful designs. Soon the designs changed and looked almost electric - alive - energetic (it reminded me of that scene from the movie "Close Encounters" when the alien ship and humans began communicating with flashing lights and musical tones). The patterns danced and played on the surface of the water - deep and still yet alive and energetic! I was mesmerized by what I was seeing! And then, out towards the center of the lake, an area the size of a small car began to light up and shimmer like fireworks - diamonds - an incredible display! I closed my eyes and then looked one more time - it was still there! Slowly it settled down, and the patterns resumed. I offered thanks for the possibility of deep stillness with energetic beauty - a display to rival any fireworks show! Can I find that kind of balance in my life?
In the late afternoon (rain) I drove the Kawuneeche Valley one more time, drinking in the beauty of the Never Summer Mountains (my favorites next to Baldy), all the young trees that did well this summer, and the amazing beauty of the headwaters of the Colorado River. As the rain increased, I headed back to the cabin to read, rest, and prepare to leave tomorrow.
And there I met my new teachers - four drunk bikers staying in the cabin next to mine. They have been hard at drinking and smoking since early afternoon (impressive display of empty bottles lining the railing) and are doing this on the deck, so I cannot sit out there, and cannot leave my windows or door open for the smoke. Even with the cabin buttoned up, I can hear them clearly. I come here for peace - they come here to party. And they are my teachers tonight because I do not want to hold onto the feelings I have toward them. Yes, I feel justified, but what good does it do me to fill my heart and mind with anger, frustration, entitlement and righteous indignation? It has no impact on them (they seem quite happy - and loud). I am the one sitting in here contemplating their demise, and stuffing my heart with anger.
I am also in the process of reading David R. Hawkins book "Letting Go - The Pathway of Surrender." It is one of the best (and most challenging) books I have read this year - even though I do not agree with all his observations. Learning to acknowledge emotions without feeding them is not easy; choosing to instead strengthen positive emotions is harder still. It seems tonight I will have ample opportunity to practice these lessons. Frankly, I would rather not practice this at all - which means I have found another growing edge.
"May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be free from suffering. May they be happy, may they be peaceful, may they be filled with love." And may they be quiet! (It is a process...)
Sigh -
Kim
Sunday, September 8, 2013
God's Name Is Lucas (and he wears a Batman tee shirt)
Although all creation is sacred (God's body, so says Sallie McFague), the East Inlet Trail in the Kawuneeche Valley of Rocky Mountain National Park is especially sacred to me. I have hiked this trail since 1988, and no matter how far I get on it, I always have a powerful experience of the Sacred - of God. Always - without exception. And without exception, the experience is different/unexpected every time.
Once while praying in the First Meadow a huge bull moose appeared - he was too big to be real! I was speechless (and camera-less), and stood in reverence of Grandfather Moose. Years later his grandson taught me that I was capable of a pre-dawn vertical rock scramble in order to avoid being gored by angry teenage moose! Wildflowers and chipmunks have ministered to me, as has Old Baldy, my favorite mountain. And on my 50th birthday whilst resting on the rock shelf (offering thanks for my life and wondering how I was going to hike out with a blown knee), a hummingbird appeared and hovered in front of me - close enough to touch! As I hiked out that day, the hummingbird reappeared each time I felt I could not go on - God with wings!
My sacred experiences on this trail motivate me to hike just before dawn (before the crowds descend on the trail). Although families hiking in Rocky bring me hope, they do not necessarily add to my experience of silence, solitude and the Sacred. I would have been on the trail today pre-dawn, had it not been for a tough negotiation session with my knees. In light of my recent fall (and their memory of the 50th birthday hike), they came to the table with a list of demands: Mindful walking (slow and steady), no pain meds pre-hike (so I can't do too much), no set destination (turn back when needed), and leave after sunrise (to avoid a vertical rock scramble, or slipping in the dark). Since their demands were fair, I accepted their terms, and they agreed to the hike.
The hike was glorious! I may have set a record for the slowest trek to the First Meadow, but each careful step reassured my knees and allowed me to see more than I usually see. I sat in my thoughtful spot and offered thanks for Chapel of Garioch and her anniversary, and Boise First and kick-off Sunday. I prayed my list of intercessions, and gazed at the beauty of the meadow. Then it was time to leave - mostly downhill (my knee's version of hell). Along the way a doe and her fawn gave me encouragement. But as I reached the turnoff to Adams Falls, I had to sit down.
It was then that I heard a young child peppering his dad with questions. Soon I was face-to-face with a very precocious five-year-old dressed in a Batman tee shirt. He: "Hi lady. What are you doing?"
Me: "Resting." He: "I'm tired, too, so I'll rest with you."
He sat down next to me, shook my hand and told me his name was Lucas, that he was five-years-old and that he and his dad had just come from Adams Falls. They were waiting for his mom and auntie, who he hoped had not been eaten by mountain lions or gotten lost on the trail. I was able to reassure him on both counts, and said I'd keep an eye out for them as I hiked out. He asked me where I had been, and so I told him stories of the First Meadow. He insisted his dad take him to the lady's meadow (sorry dad), and with another handshake, we parted company. As I started the steep descent, I noticed that despite the pain, I was smiling. Lucas had touched my heart.
The end of the trail was near when I sat down one last time to comfort my knees. As I rested I heard a familiar voice shouting, "Dad, look - we found the lady!" Before I knew it, Lucas was sitting next to me on the rock, telling me about his trip to the meadow while snuggling just a bit. I felt wrapped in love and compassion! After awhile his dad smiled, and told Lucas it was time to leave. "No," he said, "I want to stay with the lady, and we can all go out together." I thanked Lucas for the offer, and told him it was ok to go - I walk very slowly, and didn't want to hold them up. He offered to walk slowly with me! Soon mom and auntie appeared (looking exhausted) and wondering if I was the lady who told Lucas about the meadow - sorry mom. Finally Lucas hugged me and said goodbye - saying he hoped to see me again, maybe in the meadow. He promised to look for me every time he came here for a walk. I wished him a happy and blessed life, thanked him, and told him I would look for him, too. As he walked away with his dad, he turned around and waved, then took his dad's hand as they disappeared from sight. I sat there still enveloped in love, and smiling at the sight of God as a five-year-old wearing a Batman tee shirt.
Once while praying in the First Meadow a huge bull moose appeared - he was too big to be real! I was speechless (and camera-less), and stood in reverence of Grandfather Moose. Years later his grandson taught me that I was capable of a pre-dawn vertical rock scramble in order to avoid being gored by angry teenage moose! Wildflowers and chipmunks have ministered to me, as has Old Baldy, my favorite mountain. And on my 50th birthday whilst resting on the rock shelf (offering thanks for my life and wondering how I was going to hike out with a blown knee), a hummingbird appeared and hovered in front of me - close enough to touch! As I hiked out that day, the hummingbird reappeared each time I felt I could not go on - God with wings!
My sacred experiences on this trail motivate me to hike just before dawn (before the crowds descend on the trail). Although families hiking in Rocky bring me hope, they do not necessarily add to my experience of silence, solitude and the Sacred. I would have been on the trail today pre-dawn, had it not been for a tough negotiation session with my knees. In light of my recent fall (and their memory of the 50th birthday hike), they came to the table with a list of demands: Mindful walking (slow and steady), no pain meds pre-hike (so I can't do too much), no set destination (turn back when needed), and leave after sunrise (to avoid a vertical rock scramble, or slipping in the dark). Since their demands were fair, I accepted their terms, and they agreed to the hike.
The hike was glorious! I may have set a record for the slowest trek to the First Meadow, but each careful step reassured my knees and allowed me to see more than I usually see. I sat in my thoughtful spot and offered thanks for Chapel of Garioch and her anniversary, and Boise First and kick-off Sunday. I prayed my list of intercessions, and gazed at the beauty of the meadow. Then it was time to leave - mostly downhill (my knee's version of hell). Along the way a doe and her fawn gave me encouragement. But as I reached the turnoff to Adams Falls, I had to sit down.
It was then that I heard a young child peppering his dad with questions. Soon I was face-to-face with a very precocious five-year-old dressed in a Batman tee shirt. He: "Hi lady. What are you doing?"
Me: "Resting." He: "I'm tired, too, so I'll rest with you."
He sat down next to me, shook my hand and told me his name was Lucas, that he was five-years-old and that he and his dad had just come from Adams Falls. They were waiting for his mom and auntie, who he hoped had not been eaten by mountain lions or gotten lost on the trail. I was able to reassure him on both counts, and said I'd keep an eye out for them as I hiked out. He asked me where I had been, and so I told him stories of the First Meadow. He insisted his dad take him to the lady's meadow (sorry dad), and with another handshake, we parted company. As I started the steep descent, I noticed that despite the pain, I was smiling. Lucas had touched my heart.
The end of the trail was near when I sat down one last time to comfort my knees. As I rested I heard a familiar voice shouting, "Dad, look - we found the lady!" Before I knew it, Lucas was sitting next to me on the rock, telling me about his trip to the meadow while snuggling just a bit. I felt wrapped in love and compassion! After awhile his dad smiled, and told Lucas it was time to leave. "No," he said, "I want to stay with the lady, and we can all go out together." I thanked Lucas for the offer, and told him it was ok to go - I walk very slowly, and didn't want to hold them up. He offered to walk slowly with me! Soon mom and auntie appeared (looking exhausted) and wondering if I was the lady who told Lucas about the meadow - sorry mom. Finally Lucas hugged me and said goodbye - saying he hoped to see me again, maybe in the meadow. He promised to look for me every time he came here for a walk. I wished him a happy and blessed life, thanked him, and told him I would look for him, too. As he walked away with his dad, he turned around and waved, then took his dad's hand as they disappeared from sight. I sat there still enveloped in love, and smiling at the sight of God as a five-year-old wearing a Batman tee shirt.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Flow like water...
It is time to say goodbye to Clear Creek and Golden. I took my walk early today, as it is Farmer's Market day, which makes the path very busy. Dragonflies met me as I left the hotel, and beckoned me on my journey.
I didn't come here specifically looking for lessons, but I'm learning that an open heart notices and welcomes lessons whenever they come. The past has been on my mind (since I am visiting a place that is historically important to me). As I sat at the first bench watching the water flow over the rocks, I though about how fluid time is - the past with its regrets and nostalgia (which is a powerful drug), and the future with its fears and opportunities. It is so easy to focus attention on both ends of the time spectrum, missing the only time that actually exists - now. Reflecting on the past is good when it allows insights to surface that bring healing and wiser living - as long as the reflection doesn't become an exercise in self abuse. These few days have involved no small amount of reflecting on past choices and their consequences. Understanding those choices and compassionately forgiving myself has been a very healing step.
I watched the water flow over the rocks. It comes over the first set of rocks with great force and purpose, and most of the water continues straight downstream. But not all of the water makes it free the first few times, as the position of other rocks causes some of the water to circle back to re-enter the momentum of the forward movement again...and again...and again...and again...
...I smiled as I watched this cycle repeat itself countless times. I guess I'm not the only part of creation that needs some practice before catching the momentum to make it downstream! Smiles and laughter, and compassion, replaced the negative self-talk that runs on a feedback loop in my head. Flow like water - you will get there in time. If you circle back, another opportunity will be there to move forward. Flow like water...
I remembered my quarter so I could feed my chicken friends one last time and wish them a happy chicken day. I gazed up at the "M" on Lookout Mountain and decided that this time "M" stood for magnificent - which life truly is. I looked over at the front range, back at the mesas and Castle Rock, and headed back to the hotel for one last breakfast on the terrace overlooking the creek. Flow like water...
The strength and stability of the mountains...the fluidity of the water...the dance of the dragonflies. How blest I am to be in school with such good teachers.
Time to head up to the high country, and perhaps more lessons in life in the Spirit.
With love and joy,
Kim
I didn't come here specifically looking for lessons, but I'm learning that an open heart notices and welcomes lessons whenever they come. The past has been on my mind (since I am visiting a place that is historically important to me). As I sat at the first bench watching the water flow over the rocks, I though about how fluid time is - the past with its regrets and nostalgia (which is a powerful drug), and the future with its fears and opportunities. It is so easy to focus attention on both ends of the time spectrum, missing the only time that actually exists - now. Reflecting on the past is good when it allows insights to surface that bring healing and wiser living - as long as the reflection doesn't become an exercise in self abuse. These few days have involved no small amount of reflecting on past choices and their consequences. Understanding those choices and compassionately forgiving myself has been a very healing step.
I watched the water flow over the rocks. It comes over the first set of rocks with great force and purpose, and most of the water continues straight downstream. But not all of the water makes it free the first few times, as the position of other rocks causes some of the water to circle back to re-enter the momentum of the forward movement again...and again...and again...and again...
...I smiled as I watched this cycle repeat itself countless times. I guess I'm not the only part of creation that needs some practice before catching the momentum to make it downstream! Smiles and laughter, and compassion, replaced the negative self-talk that runs on a feedback loop in my head. Flow like water - you will get there in time. If you circle back, another opportunity will be there to move forward. Flow like water...
I remembered my quarter so I could feed my chicken friends one last time and wish them a happy chicken day. I gazed up at the "M" on Lookout Mountain and decided that this time "M" stood for magnificent - which life truly is. I looked over at the front range, back at the mesas and Castle Rock, and headed back to the hotel for one last breakfast on the terrace overlooking the creek. Flow like water...
The strength and stability of the mountains...the fluidity of the water...the dance of the dragonflies. How blest I am to be in school with such good teachers.
Time to head up to the high country, and perhaps more lessons in life in the Spirit.
With love and joy,
Kim
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Meeting God on the Path
Twenty-five cents buys a handful of chicken feed and minutes of joy for the feathered residents of the Clear Creek History Park. Each chicken looks unique, and I enjoy resting my bones while watching them live in their historically accurate chicken enclosure. I'm fascinated by how different each chicken is - especially the ones that look like they are either wearing fancy feathered hats (or sat under the blow dryer too long). None of them look particularly robust - perhaps that adds to the historical accuracy.
The chickens are one of the last stops on my morning walk along Clear Creek - a walk that has varied little over the decades. After breakfast I leave the hotel, walking down Washington Avenue until I cross Clear Creek. I then slowly walked down the path, being greeted by dog walkers, power walkers, Moms jogging while pushing strollers, college students walking to class, and bicyclists on their way to the bike trails. People almost always make eye contact, smile and speak (unlike where I was for study leave - Pittsburgh - where everyone looks the other way). There are just enough benches strategically placed along Clear Creek to make my morning walk pleasurable. I have favorite places to pause and elevate my knee, whilst gazing at the water and mountains. Each bench allows for a slightly different view - sometimes it is water plus Lookout Mountain, other times it is water plus North or South Table Mesa. Occasionally I get Castle Rock in the view (I avoid looking at the Coors plant). Always I see trees and water. And leaves - cottonwood leaves - littering the ground like a golden carpet. Autumn is here.
I love these benches - they give me a place to rest and reflect before starting on the next push to the next bench. When I get up to Rocky on Saturday and head out on my very favorite trail, there will be no benches waiting for me on that journey. Instead, there are rocks and logs in all the right places, which should provide enough rest to get me all the way to the First Meadow on the East Inlet Trail, and right to my precious "thoughtful spot" - my most sacred prayer space.
I also pray whilst resting on the benches along Clear Creek - I breathe with the water, mountains and falling leaves. And I'm not alone in praying along this Creek, as each morning I see an (easily) 90+ year old physically frail saint who slowly shuffles along the path - looking like she or he lives in that liminal space between this world and the next. Slowly she or he walks, rosary in hand, soaking in every moment - pausing to watch the golden squirrel, or a leaf falling from a tree - or the smile on a child's face. This person takes it all in - every second - and offers back prayer and appreciation. God walking along Clear Creek, savoring creation.
I almost didn't come away for vacation - I was scheduled to go home to Scotland during this time, but circumstances made that trip all but impossible. In the end, I decided to come to this home for a little while, and rest and re-set. Today while walking along Clear Creek, I realized that vacations are a bit like the benches along this path - they provide a place to rest and recollect, so that you can push on through the next hard stretch of the journey.
I make the most of those rest breaks along Clear Creek - soaking in the beauty, resting the knee, appreciating God's presence. May I do the same with this vacation time.
Letting Creation nourish me,
Kim
The chickens are one of the last stops on my morning walk along Clear Creek - a walk that has varied little over the decades. After breakfast I leave the hotel, walking down Washington Avenue until I cross Clear Creek. I then slowly walked down the path, being greeted by dog walkers, power walkers, Moms jogging while pushing strollers, college students walking to class, and bicyclists on their way to the bike trails. People almost always make eye contact, smile and speak (unlike where I was for study leave - Pittsburgh - where everyone looks the other way). There are just enough benches strategically placed along Clear Creek to make my morning walk pleasurable. I have favorite places to pause and elevate my knee, whilst gazing at the water and mountains. Each bench allows for a slightly different view - sometimes it is water plus Lookout Mountain, other times it is water plus North or South Table Mesa. Occasionally I get Castle Rock in the view (I avoid looking at the Coors plant). Always I see trees and water. And leaves - cottonwood leaves - littering the ground like a golden carpet. Autumn is here.
I love these benches - they give me a place to rest and reflect before starting on the next push to the next bench. When I get up to Rocky on Saturday and head out on my very favorite trail, there will be no benches waiting for me on that journey. Instead, there are rocks and logs in all the right places, which should provide enough rest to get me all the way to the First Meadow on the East Inlet Trail, and right to my precious "thoughtful spot" - my most sacred prayer space.
I also pray whilst resting on the benches along Clear Creek - I breathe with the water, mountains and falling leaves. And I'm not alone in praying along this Creek, as each morning I see an (easily) 90+ year old physically frail saint who slowly shuffles along the path - looking like she or he lives in that liminal space between this world and the next. Slowly she or he walks, rosary in hand, soaking in every moment - pausing to watch the golden squirrel, or a leaf falling from a tree - or the smile on a child's face. This person takes it all in - every second - and offers back prayer and appreciation. God walking along Clear Creek, savoring creation.
I almost didn't come away for vacation - I was scheduled to go home to Scotland during this time, but circumstances made that trip all but impossible. In the end, I decided to come to this home for a little while, and rest and re-set. Today while walking along Clear Creek, I realized that vacations are a bit like the benches along this path - they provide a place to rest and recollect, so that you can push on through the next hard stretch of the journey.
I make the most of those rest breaks along Clear Creek - soaking in the beauty, resting the knee, appreciating God's presence. May I do the same with this vacation time.
Letting Creation nourish me,
Kim
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