Daily Dose (Sept 3 – 6)

TUESDAY SEPTEMBER 3 —

Some days it helps to practice what you preach.
I’m not sure why that isn’t easy. But there you go.
I do know this, when you give yourself the permission to savor the day, and let your soul catch up with your body, keeping score doesn’t matter. Gratefully.
I’m smiling at GK Chesterton’s reminder, “There are people who pray for eternal life and don’t know what to do with themselves on a rainy Sunday.”

So, let’s pause. We don’t need another assignment. Or test to pass.
Sometimes, without even knowing it… We need times and places to decompress.
We need times and places to live quietly.
We need times and places to let our soul catch up.
We need times and places just for fishing.

This morning I took a small boy’s wisdom to heart: “The world is so loud and makes so many demands. Sitting next to you doing absolutely nothing means absolutely everything to me.” said the boy to the tree.
(Thank you, Sketches in stillness)
And I talked with the trees on my walk this morning. And this afternoon, I enjoyed listening to Carrie Newcomer’s, Take More Time, Cover Less Ground.
“I′m an old wind-up clock in an ancient tower
I’m a lone table lamp and the appointed hour
I′m what’s never been named and is nameless still
I’m the echo that comes back from the bottom of the well
Let me rest in the arms of these tangle roots
I′ve been wearing my longing like a backpack and boots
Let me notice the wheels how they rattle and turn
How my life′s filled with kindness that I didn’t earn
Time to pick it all up and to lay it back down
Time to know what I seek has already been found
Time to listen for what never made a sound
Time to take more time and cover less ground
I′m surprise how these days so quickly pass
Not half empty or full just a big ol’ glass
Some answers don′t come but it’s enough to ask
Deep calls to deep and vast calls to vast
Time to pick it all up and to lay it back down
Time to know what I seek has already been found
Time to listen for what never made a sound
Time to take more time and cover less ground
When the light lets loose and the stars take a bow
I′m grateful we’re all safe and here for now
And that love keeps us tethered somewhere somehow
Now in the season of come on home
Slowing my life to the speed of my soul
Now when the reason’s been never so clear
At the end of a hard but holy year
Time to pick it all up and to lay it back down
Time to know what I seek has already been found
Time to listen for what never made a sound
Time to take more time and cover less ground”

I hope on this Labor Day (for our friends in the US and Canada), your day was restful and replenishing.
And this week, it’s not the fish we’re after, it’s just the fishing.

WEDNESDAY SEPTEMBER 4 —

As a Michigan boy, I loved, and still do love, autumn’s arrival. The cooler evenings. The color procession and pageant that comes to life in the leaves on the trees. The sound of the breeze making the leaves a heartfelt windchime.
And, yes, I do love football season. And I am missing the days when I was out chopping firewood for the hearth.
Yes. The reassuring nourishment and replenishment in the daily rituals that remind us (and invite us) to simply, be here now.
I enjoyed this insight from Rev. Lydia Sohn, in her article, The Sacred Meaning of Folding T-Shirts (in the NYT this week). “Today, Benedictine communities could outsource their domestic labor with the proceeds from visitors who go on retreats in their monasteries—but they don’t. On my recent visit to the Prince of Peace Abbey, a Benedictine monastery in Oceanside, CA, I asked one of the brothers why it was so important for them to hang onto their domestic responsibilities when most of us find them to get in the way of more fulfilling and meaningful pursuits. He responded that their labor was a form of their bodies praying, in that way strengthening their spirituality.”

Yes and amen. The stuff we long to move past in order to get on with what “really matters” is really, the good stuff.
So. This week in Sabbath Moment we’ve been talking about slowing our life to the speed of our soul. Because when we live “if only” and “when” we miss the sacrament of the present moment. We miss the gift of our bodies praying.
And I had a great question from a reader, wondering how we know we’re “in the present”. You know, what do we do with a wandering mind, and what does it mean to “just be” (knowing the temptation to measure everything, wondering if we were present enough, prayerful enough, mindful enough, etc).
Here’s the deal: Living present and being present is not a contest, or a test, or a beauty pageant.
I like Thich Nhat Hahn’s description, “There are two ways to wash dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes and the second is to wash the dishes in order to wash the dishes.”
In other words, being present is simply about making space.
To pause. To notice. To pay attention. To see what we may have missed.
To simply live, undivided or undistracted. With no need to weigh or measure.
There are two gifts to embrace.
The gift of enough: this moment (this encounter) is enough. And we learn that enough is indeed a feast.
The gift of gratitude: from enough, we are able to share, give, spill light, because we have set down the heaviness we’ve carried.
So, let’s pause. We don’t need another assignment. Or test to pass.
Sometimes, without even knowing it… We need times and places to decompress.
We need times and places to live quietly.
We need times and places to let our soul catch up.
We need times and places just for fishing.

THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 5 —

A Zen teacher saw five of his students returning from the market, riding their bicycles. When they arrived at the monastery and had dismounted, the teacher asked the students, “Why are you riding your bicycles?”
The first student replied, “The bicycle is carrying this sack of potatoes. I am glad that I do not have to carry them on my back!”
The teacher praised the first student, “You are a smart boy! When you grow old, you will not walk hunched over like I do.”
The second student replied, “I love to watch the trees and fields pass by as I roll down the path!”
The teacher commended the second student, “Your eyes are open, and you see the world.”
The third student replied, “When I ride my bicycle, I am content to chant nam myoho renge kyo.”
The teacher gave his praise to the third student, “Your mind will roll with the ease of a newly trued wheel.”
The fourth student replied, “Riding my bicycle, I live in harmony with all sentient beings.”
The teacher was pleased and said to the fourth student, “You are riding on the golden path of non-harming.”
The fifth student replied, “I ride my bicycle to ride my bicycle.”
The teacher sat at the feet of the fifth student and said, “I am your student.”
(A well-known Zen proverb)

This quote today did my heart good. “When the world feels like an emotional rollercoaster, steady yourself with simple rituals. Do the dishes. Fold the laundry. Water the plants. Simplicity attracts wisdom” (Source unknown)
Yes, and amen… pull some weeds… tend to your garden… count the clouds… read a book… enjoy sipping your morning coffee… listen to the birds…
The reassuring nourishment and replenishment in the daily rituals that remind us (and invite us) to simply, be here now.
What do they all have in common? When I ride, I ride.
The sacrament of the present moment.
So, let’s pause. We don’t need another assignment. Or test to pass.
Sometimes, without even knowing it… We need times and places to decompress.
We need times and places to live quietly.
We need times and places to let our soul catch up.
We need times and places just for fishing.

FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 6 —

Life can be very topsy-turvy. And life’s turvyness “storms” can too easily untether us.
So. How do we choose to see?
How do we choose to navigate?
How do we choose to engage?
It’s easy to be derailed, isn’t it? To fall off the wagon of well-being. Or, to give way to anger, division, bitterness, playing a victim, downheartedness.
It’s not the emotion or reaction that derails us, it’s that they become our narrative. They tell us who we are.
This much is true: All the above, have this in common; Scotoma… Selective blindness. In other words, we see only what we want to see. Which means, with scotoma, we wall off tenderness and grace and gentleness and kindness and inclusion and healing and reconciliation… and hope that is alive and well inside every single one of us.
So. A good reminder to hit the reset button.
Let us begin here: Be gentle with yourself.
This week in Sabbath Moment we’ve been talking about slowing our life to the speed of our soul. Because when we live “if only” and “when” we miss the invitation to “be here now”.
Here’s the deal: We navigate life’s turvyness, by living in (embracing) the sacrament of the present moment (the ordinary is the hiding place for the holy), however small we think it may be.

And then this today… it did my heart good…
A grandmother’s advice by Elena Mikhalkova…
“My grandmother once gave me a tip:
In difficult times, you move forward in small steps. Do what you have to do, but little by little. Don’t think about the future, or what may happen tomorrow.
Wash the dishes.
Remove the dust.
Write a letter.
Make a soup.
You see? You are advancing step by step. Take a step and stop.
Rest a little.
Praise yourself. Take another step. Then another.
You won’t notice, but your steps will grow more and more. And the time will come when you can think about the future without crying.”
Yes, and amen. With each small step, we can think about the future with peace in our heart.

Prayer for our week…
How good it is to center down!
To sit quietly and see one’s self pass by!
The streets of our minds seethe with endless traffic;
Our spirits resound with clashings, with noisy silences,
While something deep within hungers and thirsts for the still
    moment and the resting lull.…
The questions persist: what are we doing with our lives?—
    what are the motives that order our days?
What is the end of our doings? Where are we trying to go?…
Over and over the questions beat in upon the waiting moment.
As we listen, floating up through all the jangling echoes
    of our turbulence, there is a sound of another kind—
A deeper note which only the stillness of the heart
    makes clear.
It moves directly to the core of our being. Our questions are
    answered,
Our spirits refreshed, and we move back into the traffic of
    our daily round
With the peace of the Eternal in our step.
How good it is to center down!
Howard Thurman (1899–1981)
Meditations of the Heart

Photo… “Good evening Terry, I may not enjoy the art of gardening (fear of bugs), but I do love gathering flowers and taking them on a ‘field trip’ to the water’s edge at Sunrise (looking out at Mount Rainier). So glad God blessed you with your ministry so you could be a blessing to us.” Marguerite Gerontis (Tacoma, WA)… Thank you Marguerite… I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to [email protected]