Grounded in "Yes!"

I started preparing on Friday (Thursday felt too early).  I gave my prayer space a gentle clean, and put away the signs of previous seasons.  I took out my Advent devotionals and wreath, placing four fresh candles in this simple circle of metal.  Each year I look at more elaborate Advent wreaths and think about "upgrading" (my original Advent wreath fell to bits about a decade ago).  But in the end, simplicity wins out.  I also take out important visuals for the season - icons of St. Nicholas, Our Lady of the Sign, and John the Baptism, and a beloved print by Victoria Shuck entitled "Yes!"

"Yes!"  I look at this print depicting Mary saying yes to God's invitation - one that brought a mixed bag of possibilities from beginning to end.  Along with the unspeakable joy of new life and union with God came social judgment and isolation, fear, displacement - but to all of this and more she said "Yes!"  And God walked with her through the darkness into the light.

Tonight I waited until it was dark, and went up into my prayer space to light the first candle of Advent, letting the light slowly fill the darkened room.  I lit my first Advent candle when I was fifteen - my family thought I was crazy going into my room to light the candles and say my prayers.  I have maintained this ritual for almost forty years - no matter where lived, no matter what my circumstances, in good times and bad I have lit the Advent candles, sang the first verse of "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," and prayed for the strength to say "Yes!"

I love this ritual - it grounds me and centers me, and immediately takes me back to what is most important.  I think we humans are hardwired for ritual, and completely dispense with it at our peril.  It can provide a powerful way for our soul to speak - to say "Yes!"

What rituals will you observe during this Season of Advent that will help to ground you in the Real, and keep you from being swept up in the "silly season?"

May you have a blessed beginning to your Advent Journey -
Kim

Reading the Signs - or - the Advent Hawk

The hawk is back.  As I write this, she is perched on my neighbor's fence surveying the glorious land of bird feeders.  I think this is the same hawk I watched practicing take-offs and landings two summers ago; the same hawk that came to visit me last Christmas.  As winters approaches, she now returns to the hawk equivalent of Eagle Road with all its fast-food restaurants - there are easily 8 bird feeders within her sight.

Over the past several weeks the bird seed consumption dropped off precipitously - a sign that she had returned to her winter hunting ground.  But I don't need to read the signs to know that she is here, for there she perches, in all her power and glory.  To love her and to love the little spurdies who are even now pressed deep within the blue spruce tree as they hold their collective breaths until she flies away - well, holding both in my heart feels strange.  But both belong, and both are beloved.

I can see her (gazing out the window) instead of being busy with tasks (what I usually do) because I've come down with what must be the "virus de jour" - reducing the size of my world to this table, window, chair, tablet, and the necessary "virus de jour" paraphernalia (water, tissue, more tissue, cough drops, inhalers, and fever reducers).  And a hawk.  Oh my - she is so beautiful...

About a week ago I noticed that I was feeling more tired than usual - heading to "bed and book" earlier (not necessarily a bad thing, as I have piles of books waiting for my attention).  As I look back at my daily journal entries, I see the first reference to physically sliding downhill on Tuesday - I knew something wasn't right.  Wednesday's journal entry is one sentence - now I knew what wasn't right.  But the telling entry was made on the following day:  "I am feeling sick today - it is an invitation to take very good care of myself."

If the entry wasn't in my own handwriting, I'd be looking to find the person who wrote that in my journal!  This is a complete departure from how I normally approach the annual virus experience - first I deny that it is happening (I am NOT getting sick).  Then, I continue my schedule without any modifications (to prove that I am not getting sick).  When that is unsuccessful, I use medication as I way to mask symptoms so I can keep going (I will act well and therefore I am not sick).  Finally, the virus overwhelms all my coping strategies, and when I am finally so sick that I cannot get out of bed, I accept that I am sick and stop.

Well-practiced (and somewhat silly) pattern!  And familiar patterns are hard to break -

- but not impossible.  The hard work of learning new ways to "be" has clearly helped me to gain ground in the new pattern department, because as soon as I was aware that I was getting sick, I stopped, and started taking care of myself.

Old dogs - new tricks - thank goodness!

But I confess (with some embarrassment) that today I discovered some magical thinking associated with my self-care strategy - if I take care of myself at the beginning of the virus, it will not progress and I will get better quicker and with fewer complications.  I uncovered this little bit of magical thinking when I found myself frustrated that the added rest, healthy food (even a honeydew melon and cucumber smoothie) and judicious use of medication hadn't stopped this in its tracks and kept it from progressing.  Clearly (cough cough), the virus marches on.  So with the ulterior motive noticed, I am left with the question:  "Can I see this as an invitation to take very good care of myself - even if this self-care does not give me the result I want?  Can I nurture myself simply because it is a loving thing to do and reflective of God's love?

Yes, I can.

More signs to read - indicators that the work I am doing to learn sustainable self-care skills is taking root.  These signs show me that a shift is taking place - I am caring for myself not simply because of what I can get out of it, but because I love myself and want to nurture myself.  I bet God is grinning from ear to ear!

Reading the signs is a theme for this time of the year, as the Christian church prepares for the Season of Advent.  In Advent we are called to watch and wait and look - to prepare a place in our hearts for Christ's love to be born anew.  How I love this time of the year - how I love reading the signs!

Animal Medicine teaches that the hawk is a messenger who reminds us to heighten our awareness and read the signs around us.  Of course she has returned - just in time.

Happy reading,
Kim

Liquid Time

Right now there is a break in today's storms.  As I look out at the Boise Foothills, they appear to be frosted with a bright coating of snow.  Rain, sleet and hail have been the options playing outside my window today.  Each brings a different percussive presence to my window - the varying rhythms have been most entertaining (easy to say from the warmth of inside the house).  It is cold enough to be unpleasant (nothing is worse than cold rain/sleet to chill the body to the bone), but not cold enough down here for snow.  That may change by tomorrow morning, just in time for the drive to church.  I would say that the state of precipitation is fluid, but perhaps that pun is best left alone...

Time also feels quite fluid/liquid today.  Over ten years ago to the month I saw (in my heart) a design for a tapestry.  It was as clear as day, but each time I tried to sketch it, the image would evaporate! Over the years I have tried (in vain) to sketch it again, and each time I do, the image (which evolves with each passing year), evaporates.  I even went so far as to warp the big tapestry loom for this project (the dimensions stay stable over time even when the image changes),  but each attempt to weave the tapestry was met with - a wall.  Every attempt to push through this block was met with failure.

Finally I had to accept that it was not the time to weave the tapestry.

Several weeks ago part of the image for the tapestry evolved yet again - but this time, I had a strong sense that THIS was the image for the tapestry.  Next came the colors...finally, the design - which shares some similarities with the original design, but has evolved in some interesting ways.

Now it is time to weave the tapestry.

In the past, when I could not even begin the design, I felt feelings of failure and inadequacy.  Now I see that it was simply not time to begin.  There were experiences I needed to have - questions I needed to ask - joys/sorrows that needed to be experienced before I could begin.  And now, out of the depths of my experience, the image emerges...

...in its own time.  When the time is right.  In the fullness of time.  Not necessarily when I want/need it to happen - but in its own time.

In some ways, the evolving image has been a mirror for work taking place in my soul.  It has also been a powerful guide/teacher, leading me ever deeper into awareness of God's presence in my life...

...just in time.  In time.  Time -

Can I allow myself to accept that things emerge/resolve in their time (exit failure and inadequacy) and sing the song of Ecclesiastes?

Singing (tentatively),
Kim