On the Road

She Who Listens is coming to a close.  It has been a rich experience to have had the opportunity to blog on a regular basis for so many months.  But I am now traveling, and my blogging time is less.  Although She Who Listens is closing down, I do have a travel blog which you can subscribe to by dropping me an email.  I'll be happy to send it on to you. 

All the best! 

Caris

Listen to some good music

Music is well said to be the speech of angels.
                                                                 Thomas Carlyle

A Splash of Color

"A Splash of Color"  copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, All rights reserved.

The day brings us such interesting things.  Sometimes we go along in our lives, almost bored with things, and then a splash of color catches our eye, and there is magic again.  Yesterday was full of such color for me, and I felt alive all morning, tingling with the excitement of the magic.  To begin with, we had quite a lovely dusting of snow, and my early morning drive over to a nearby village, was absolutely breathtaking.  The sun was breaking through a heavy fog, and the result was exquisite.  (What a day to have forgotten my camera!)  Then on the way, on the side of the road in a field, about 7 or 8 feet from the car, was a huge bird.  As I got closer I saw it was a bald eagle which had caught something.

Later that morning as I was driving to the grocery store, there was a gull in the middle of the road, just sitting there.  I'd seen this kind of thing before.  After I had parked the car, I took a blanket and walked back to where the gull was sitting in the middle of all that traffic.  The poor thing was terrified and scooted away from me, revealing an ugly mess of intestines on the cement.  (sorry for the graphic description, but it's important you are aware of it for the story.)  She was so beautiful, white with brown speckles.  I spoke gently to her, trying to calm her, and then threw the blanket over her and gathered her up in my arms, trying to be very careful of her injuries and carried her back to my car.

Taking the gull to the vet was a little bit of a drive, and so on the way over, I laid my hand very carefully on the blanket and prayed for her.  She wasn't fighting or moving much.  I asked St. Francis for some help.  He's a particular friend of mine, and doesn't seem to mind that I'm not Catholic.  My cd was playing as I've been trying to bone up on lyrics for a concert coming up, it was on "Good Shepherd of my Soul."    And the car seemed full of a quiet, loving presence

We arrived at the vet and I carefully gathered the gull back up into my arms and took her into the building.  I spoke with a young woman, and soon someone had come to get the bird and take her into the back room.  I waited a few minutes and the young woman came out with my blanket.   She had a puzzled look on her face.

"So, did you see the bird get hit?"

"No.  She was sitting in the middle of the road.  But couldn't fly when I approached her, and there was a mess on the road."

"There was no blood, no broken bones.  There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all."

I must have looked a bit skeptical.

"We'll keep her in the icu for a while and see how she does.  Maybe it's just the cold and she was tired.   If she is injured, which doesn't appear to be the case, we'll find a bird rehabilitator.  Thanks for bringing her in."

And I left.  Puzzled myself.  Until finally, several hours later, telling the story to a friend, another possibility entered into the picture.  Maybe a miracle.

Not very scientific of me.  And there must have been another explanation, right?  There had to be.  And yet...that "buzz" from earlier in the morning hadn't left me.  Magic?  God's intervention for a little bird?  I don't know.  It sounds wildly implausible.  But I'm given to believing in the impossible.  This Jesus I follow has a way of surprising me.

Hmmmm.  What do you think?

The day continued with other minor miracles, and best friend JS arrived for a pillow fight which left me laughing heartily.  And then I collapsed, so tired I could barely move.  What an amazing day.

I wonder what today will hold!!!  Adventures are waiting.

Waking Up

"just waking up"  Copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, all rights reserved

Waking up
to this precious thing
called life.

Opening
to the miracle
of today.

Beginning
in new ways
to find my way home

to myself
to eternity
and to love.

Blinking, adjusting
my eyes to the bright light
struggling to see

The friend
right there in front of me
smiling

The adventure
there before us
in unknown opportunity

Put on your shoes
let's go
it's time.

True Roots

"At Water's Edge"  copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, All Rights Reserved

Many of us feel a deep sense of connection to "place."  Some of us were born in the place, some of us came to it later in life.  The passing seasons, the changes, the losses and the joys, the successes and failures are all tied up in the package of place.  The landscape becomes the literal landscape of our lives. This photo will remind me of the many walks I have taken in this place, the troubles, the joys, the friendships which it has brought to me. 

Place can be a wonderful thing, but our deepest roots should be in God's grace and love.  Then we'll be like the tree planted at the water's edge.  We will have what we need to flourish in our lives, to grow into our full potential.  We can't be uprooted when we immerse ourselves in the landscape of the Spirit.  Even if we are flung to the far reaches of this planet, to places which are strange and unfamiliar to us.  God is immovable.  God's presence permeates everything in this world.  So if we are rooted there, it doesn't matter where we are.  We have what we need.  And we can allow ourselves to go where God leads. 

It took a 40 year walk in the wilderness for the Israelites to begin to understand that fact.  If they had moved right into the promised land, their dependence would be upon something other than God.  But because their roots, their identity, their strength was in the Eternal and Loving God, the material gifts were just that.  Material.  Temporary.  

Beyond the Now

"A Blue Dawn"   Copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, all rights reserved

There is something slightly out of focus here, and the scene feels soft and muted because of the mist.  The effect is lovely.  I especially love the reflection in the water. 

Our life here could be a reflection of something clearer, something beyond now, something that holds a bit of mystery, and yet faith helps us to know that the mystery is part of the story, part of the fun.  When we become too immersed in hard cold facts, we lose something of truth.  We become stuck and unable to open to growth and change.  Of course, if we get too caught up in the mystery and the not yet, we become out of balance.  Walking in the present with opened eyes to the realities of this world, while keeping a part of ourselves connected and rooted in the not yet, the eternal, gives us balance.

Many years ago now I had this beautiful dream one night.  I was walking in a place that looked like Israel.  I had walked up a steep hill, and I stopped to gaze off into the distance, where there was a city.  Perhaps Jerusalem?  The view was a strange one.  It was almost as though I were seeing double.  There were two cities superimposed upon each other.  And from different positions, I could see each of them, and at times they became one.  but one of them was clearer, and it was shining with the gold of the sun.  And I knew it was heaven.   And I knew there was something true and glorious in that dream.  God felt near. 

I am not certain as to why this comes to mind this morning, but I want to see this world from both perspectives, with a willingness to dig in and get my hands dirty and all the while, with a clear connection in that beautiful, mysterious "not yet." 

copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, All rights reserved.

 

 

 

What a sunrise this morning!  What a gorgeous, mysterious, morning of color and mist and cold air!!

May your day be full of the gorgeous, the mysterious, and the many colors of grace!  

Acceptance

Accepting what comes to our lives and accepting what goes from us, enables us to be present and to be at peace.  The rain falls, and though the flowers look droopy when it does, it is wonderful for their growth.  And when the sun shines, it is wonderful for their growth. 

Whatever life may bring us can be wonderful for our growth.  That doesn't mean it is easy.  But if we are willing to open ourselves to it, accept what it is, as it is, the struggle doesn't need to be as intensely overwhelming.  We can find peace. 

The sun is shining through a bit today, and I'm feeling better than I was yesterday.  I accepted the pain of yesterday, accepted my limitations in it, and today I accept that I have more to give to my packing up and moving on.  Or maybe I will take a walk with my camera!  Since these photos are older ones. 

The truth is however, that sometimes we wrestle with reality.  I think it makes it more difficult for those around us as well as ourselves.  As I age, opening my heart to the changes, instead of railing against them, enables me to move through my days with more grace, and a more restful feeling. 

May you find peace in the acceptance today.  May you find grace.  And may there be some laughter in the midst of it all. 

Too Much...

Wall at Ithaca Falls in Ithaca, NY  copyright C. Schroeder, 2011, All rights reserved

There is a verse someplace in Hebrews I believe, that says God never gives us more than we can handle.  Sometimes I wish I could still embrace that with youthful exuberance and enthusiasm, facing the challenges as adventure.  But the truth of the matter is, that sometimes there is far too much pain for a person to handle.  Sometimes people suffer from mental illnesses that can cause immense emotional pain.  Sometimes there is physical pain that is overwhelming and beyond endurance.  Sometimes life piles too much on one person's shoulders, until he or she is bowed down and overwhelmed, unable to continue...up against a wall. 

A dear friend's niece took her own life yesterday.  The young woman had suffered deeply for many years, and she couldn't bear it any longer.  Last spring, another dear friend's partner took her own life as well.  She too had suffered in unimaginable ways.

Many prayers are rising for the families and friends.  May God's grace and mercy carry each one through this painful time, easing the heartache, granting them strength as well as the ability to grieve this terrible loss.  And may their hearts heal.  I just know that young woman is at peace, released from the awful pain she endured.  God's love holds us all. 

Cherishing Now

This morning I realized that I don't have a new photo to post.  Most of them have been posted either here or on my lectionary blog.  And the reality is that I haven't been affording myself the time each day to take the dog for a walk and open my eyes to the moment.  Instead I am buried in "stuff," sorting, packing, being overwhelmed and frustrated, stressed and thinking about a different kind of future that begins in the not too distant future.

Taking a walk would clear that space that is all full of up with the stress of transition. It would help me be more motivated, and it would help clear the physical space as well as the mental and emotional and spiritual.  We get busy and we think that we're too busy to take the time to do the things which nourish us.  Was it Martin Luther who prayed four hours every day, and when he had a busy day he prayed six?  I'm quoting it wrong I'm sure, but you get my meaning.  The busier we are, the more we need the spiritual part of our lives to be healthy and well fed.  Well...maybe tomorrow I'll get out and about with my camera. 

The Times, they are a changin'

I wonder what the world here will look like when the rain stops.  It was windy yesterday, so I imagine that many leaves have blown off the trees, and we're that much closer to winter.  It's odd to think about winter this year.  If all goes according to plan, I will be where it is warmer, mostly mild temperatures.  A green Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It will be my first.  Will I miss the snow?  I know that living in a climate where there isn't a change of seasons would be difficult for me over the long term.  Springtime and it's elegance here is something to be cherished.  The trees dressed up in such lovely, light greens and the wildflowers are supremely beautiful.  The summer I wouldn't miss.  Especially if I lived in a mild climate...not the desert.  But the autumn...it has always been my favorite season.  I love to pile on the blankets and snuggle in at night.  I love the smell of dry, crunchy leaves (though not so much when it's a really damp autumn.  Then it smells a bit like dirty laundry)   Then of course there is the apple cider, and all those apple trees, domestic and wild that are heavily laden with fruit.  When I was younger, I loved the hay rides on cool nights, and the warm bonfire afterwards where hot dogs roasted on long sticks and marshmallows were sweet and sticky and warm after getting toasted in just the right way. 


There is something about the changing seasons that resonates with our lives.  We pass through different seasons in our physical, emotional, mental and spiritual lives.  Would eternal youth really be such a blessing?  I don't think so.  When my time here is up, it will have been enough, and I'll be ready for some new adventure...or maybe a good rest.  My hair is filled with more and more silver and gray these days.  And that is alright. 

Be

Be.

That is all

and enough.

Simply

to be...

present to this now

your breath

this clay that is flesh

present to the bluster

and the wildly dancing wind

blowing across your lethargy

present to the stillness

the smallest whisper

asking to know you

to sit with you

to be

in you.

with you.

beside you

and all the while

the stillness sings

luring you into its warmth

it's welcome.

It is enough.

Be.

Leaving Their Marks

Scars    copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, All Rights Reserved

There is place on my right cheek, fairly close to my nose where a faint scar crosses.  It is not easily seen, but those who know my face well, know it is there.  That little scar was made on my 2nd day of life in this world, with my own fingernail.  They told my mother that it would go away.  But it never did.  It's become part of my story.  

Stuff happens in life.  We have all experienced our share of pain inflicted by other people, situations, life itself and sometimes even we inflict things on ourselves.  And some of that stuff leaves scars.  Sometimes temporary ones.  Sometimes quite permanent.  Each scar is a sort of badge of honor...something one has somehow gotten through and survived, or at the very least, an interesting story.  Those old wounds however, are only scars when they stop hurting, and become a simple reminder of where we have come from.

There are people who walk around with those scars quite visible physically.  And then there are those who walk around and their scars are hidden.  We don't know what life has dealt many people, because they remain silent about it, believing that is the best way to get through.

I don't know about you, but I love to hear peoples' stories, full of all the pain and joy of life, full of complexity and confusion and hope.  Ask someone about one of their scars...ask them to tell you the story.  And maybe they'll ask you about one of yours.

Labels

Autumn at Hunt's Pond     copyright 2011, C. Schroeder, All rights reserved

Categorizing, labeling, setting things in boxes is often the way we human beings control things.  It's easier to buy into the idea of someone being narcissistic or having a personality disorder, or just generally being mentally ill, than to engage with the human being, to see them as a person

Mucking about...

Transformation  --  Copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All Rights Reserved

Last night I listened to Oprah's life class, and this morning went to see my therapist.  Talk about an AHA moment!  Let me tell you all about it.

So the conversation last night was about ego.  And I'm struggling about whether or not to keep a motor scooter that I got, so I'd have some transportation that isn't so hard on gas and the environment.  So it's brand new and I had been out on it a few times, but then one afternoon I went to start it and it wouldn't start.  The engine made noise, but it wouldn't start.  I read the book about the scooter, and tried the things it suggested, but nothing happened.  So that was it.  I decided I didn't want one more hard thing in my life, this wasn't supposed to be hard.  And I decided that perhaps the motor scooter was somehow connected with my ego. 

In talking with my therapist this morning, something connected.  I realized that NOT keeping the motor scooter was connected with my ego.  I've got this self sacrifice thing down pat.  But beyond that, someone came very close to drowning me when I was 4 or 5.  And I struggled.  But he was stronger than I was.  And so I just "surrendered."  Oprah had talked about "surrendering" before, but I have always had trouble with that word.  That near drowning incident is the reason why.  After fighting and fighting to get away and get back to air, I finally gave in, knew I would die, and I let go.  I think I may have even died at that point for a moment or two, before he brought me back.  And then it felt as though he had the power of life and death over me.  And it was useless to fight. 

So as I'm talking about my motor scooter I remembered that as a youngster I had this dream of riding a motor cycle across the country, but of course now I'm 51 with several health issues and so it wouldn't be wise.  But this little 50cc motor scooter doesn't go over 30 miles an hour and it really would be helpful to have something to go to the grocery store on and such when I go south in my RV.  But maybe I'm just "supposed" to have a bike or walk.  But neither decision seems to give me any peace.  And then I'm crying, thinking about that old dream of mine, and that this little scooter is a piece of that old dream.  It makes me happy.  And it's not my ego at all that wants to keep it.  It's my ego that tells me that nothing ever works out for me.  That I'm not allowed any happiness.  And that is the lie.  The great deception that my ego has got my brain running on.  Owning the scooter isn't the issue.  I always hold lightly to things.  But the issue is the much deeper issue of allowing myself to be happy.

And then LC, my therapist says that he's thinking a rather "head shrinkerish" thing.  And I tell him to go ahead and tell me what he's thinking.  And he says he wonders if perhaps I can't allow myself happiness because that would somehow say that the abuse wasn't as terrible as it was.  That it would be dismissive, and that I was saying to the abusers it was ok that they abused me.  The damn sort of burst then.  It seems so obvious now as I look at it...all my dreams that have "almost" come true, but I wouldn't allow myself to experience what it would feel like to allow them fully into my life. 

It's okay to be happy.  It's ok.  And it doesn't devalue the suffering.  I'm not betraying the younger me.  In fact, allowing that happiness in is honoring her in a big way. 

Thank you God.  Thank you LC.  Thank you Oprah.  And thank you Caris...this is a new place to put up my tent and rest a while.  Or my RV in this case!

Blessings to you, and many AHAs!!!! 

Saying Goodbye

Upstate New York is quite beautiful this time of year.  The Catskills are bursting with color, and the recent days of sunshine and blue sky give an even greater intensity to the colors.  It is a hard season to be saying goodbye...though not officially yet.  My address will remain here for the next several months, until I figure out where my new home will be.  Saying goodbye to good friends.  Letting go of an accumulation of "stuff" from the past 13 years.  Revisiting the places I have loved to walk and explore over the past many years.  And in the midst of all that, packing my things and getting ready to go.  My heart aches.  And someplace in there, I am feeling just slightly hopeful about a new future.

A Grain of Wheat

This looks like a photo from the prairies!  It's actually from right here in town, in a church courtyard.

We take our food for granted you know.  Every once in a while when I'm saying grace, I like to think about the whole process that happens in getting it to the table.  Bread begins (if you're able to eat wheat of course) with wheat.  I think of the wheatfields in Kansas.  Golden.  Acre upon acre, sometimes as far as the eye can see, the wheat waves in the wind which never stops blowing on the prairie.  Farmers plant it all.  Farmers with families of every sort.  Families that gather at meal times, that have endless chores to do and that work long days during good weather.  They pray for rain, or for sunshine, depending on what the crops need.  Those farmers watch that wheat because it is their livelihood.  It is important.  And so much is invested in those crops.  It can mean the difference between keeping and losing the farm, if it's still a family farm.  If all goes well, there will be new clothes in the fall for school.  Perhaps a new tractor or some other expensive piece of equipment that will help to keep the farm running.

And the wheat makes its way to the mill, where it is ground into flour.  And then the flour makes its way to the bakeries, where loaves of bread are baked.  Or sometimes it makes its way to my kitchen, where I knead the dough into wonderful, fresh baked bread that tastes like nothing else does, right from the oven.  And the wheat is only one ingredient of good bread.  There is also salt and oil and yeast and milk...well, you get the picture.

So much goes into making a loaf of bread.  And so much goes into the different parts of our lives.  It is good to stop and remember all the connections from time to time, and to be grateful for the gifts which come to us with great effort by others.

St. Francis

Prayers

"Stations of the Cross"  copyright 2011, by C. Schroeder, All rights reserved

There are times in our lives when answers are not forthcoming, when fear is a strong force we struggle against, times when we feel alone and changes overwhelm us.  It is my experience that when we meet those times, when practical advice doesn't work so well, that prayer does.  Prayer lifts up a heart that is discouraged, it gives support to those caught in the tendrils of fear, it comforts those who are in the midst of grief, it holds the one for whom we pray in gentle hands.  Scientific studies tell us it works.  No one can explain exactly why it works, of course, that part is mystery.  Thank goodness something remains as such.  Prayer doesn't give us THE answers, but it does help us to quiet our hearts enough to find the answers within. 

Think on these things...

"A Meditative Moment"  copyright Caris Cerdwyn, All Rights Reserved

Think on the good things.  There are so many of them.  And when the negative stuff starts to pile up, pull back and find a way to get things back into perspective.  Sometimes I take time, like this seagull, to simply sit and "be" for a while.  The negative is there, but there are always ways for it to be transformed.  There are always ways for the grief and the sadness, to find its way eventually to gratitude and joy.  There are ways for hard situations to become a gift over the long haul.  There are gifts and blessings in the middle of every difficulty. 

There is some sunshine outside my window today, and I daresay, outside many of yours as well.  That in and of itself is a great cause for a smile and a "thank you." 

Wishing you plenty of sunshine today, many smiles, laughter, joyful surprises and sweet dreams.

The Golden...

The Golden Goose    copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

Yesterday I was scanning through a book about weight loss and spirituality that someone had told me about.    I have to confess that I don't read much "new age" philosophy.  It seems they have everything so neatly tied up in a bow...but mostly because it tends to be judgmental of peoples' suffering.  I haven't the patience. 

The author of this particular book begins the first chapter outlining the many reasons people overeat, including backgrounds of physical or sexual abuse, etc.  And then she closes the chapter by saying that if you have a problem with food, its idolatry.  Wow...that's sure to draw people in!  Encouraging.  Hopeful.  (Do you hear the sarcasm here?)   No doubt it's true that food is golden to some, used to do numb the pain of the past.  But wouldn't it be wonderful to meet a human being who doesn't engage in idolatry of some sort?  I suppose Jesus fit the bill.  But for the rest of us, there is a day to day reality that draws us back to that golden calf.  It is hard to trust God when you're wandering in the wilderness.  Life is difficult.  And that's the reality.  People do all sorts of self destructive things to deal with their pain.  You are fortunate if you're not daily struggling to keep your life in some sort of balance.   Food, drugs, alcohol, gambling, sex...those are the kinds of addictions that push people out of social circles.  Those kinds of problems aren't socially acceptable.  Of course if you're wealthy, enjoy having power, have a need to be center stage all the time, work too much, or even worship your family...well those things are ok.  In fact, people often go to great lengths to spend time with some of those people.

I may end up reading the book and trying to do the work that she suggests.  But I will probably have to do some work releasing my resentments at yet another denigration of people who are overweight.  It's a good market...books about weight loss certainly feed into this culture's addiction to beauty and youth.  Diet books A real golden goose.

Oh well.  I have to deal with my own golden calf, not point fingers at someone else.  I'm always hopeful that someone, someday may have some wisdom to bring to the table...as it were. 

Show Off

"Showing Off"  Copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All Rights Reserved

These trees or plants always blaze bright red in the autumn.  Most of the trees are struggling this year, colors muted because of all the rain we've had.  But not this one!  I'm not sure what they're called.  They're interesting however, and I've never seen them in the midwest or on or near the west coast either.  I don't notice them much at any other time of the year, but autumn...well you just can't help but notice them!  I love that shade of red.  During an autumn like this one, well, they just look like they're showing off, when all the other trees look a bit depressed.

Each one of us has at least one thing we do well.  We may not show up most of the time...compared to others we may even feel a bit dull.  But when we share our gift, well we shine.  We definitely show up!  We are bright and amazing, even dazzling.

Now some folks seem to have an endless supply of those kinds of gifts and abilities.  They are always out in front, dancing the best dance, singing the best song, painting the best picture, taking the best photo, dreaming the biggest dream, raising the most money.  Well, you know the type.  And there is something natural in feeling some envy or jealousy around that.  In and of itself, a feeling is just a feeling.  And sometimes jealousy is just a "tough love friend"  as Julia Cameron says in The Artist's Way.  We all know the feeling.  And often times it gets the better of us.  When I feel jealous of someone, I feel as though someone is squeezing my esophagus closed, my stomach turns and oh how I would like to take out my claws and do some damage.  It used to be such an awful thing and I hadn't a clue what to do with it.  Sometimes it ended up hurting the people around me.  On more than one occasion, it destroyed a friendship.  Augh!  What to do with it?  What to do when our competitive nature kicks in?

For me, I have learned to listen to those awful feelings.  They mean something.  They have a message.  Just like pain in the body means something is wrong or off, jealousy is an alarm system of sorts in our emotional package.  Pay attention...not to the person toward whom you feel jealous, envy or a sense of competition.  Pay attention to your own self.  Your own gifts!  It is likely that you should be using some gift which is dormant at present, and needs to be brought out into the light.  Go for it!  Not as some competitive act.  But rather seeking an outlet for something that is possibly stifled.  And if you are spending too much time in the company of people who overshadow you and the gifts you bring, then pull back a bit, make your own stage, create your own opportunities, and use the good gifts and the good sense that God has given you.

It is never easy to be the one of whom others are jealous.  I've been there and done that too, have a t-shirt, a coffee mug and a consulting business!!!  I am not interested in always being center stage.  I enjoy it as much as the next person.  But the thing I most enjoy and most love, is helping others to find their own abilities, their own gifts and creativity, their own avenues for expression.  It is an absolute delight when someone steps into their element, and that special gifts emerges and helps to warm the people in its glow, inspiring and encouraging them.

So, let's give up the fierce competition.  Let's put aside the catty comments that tear people down.  Let's stop trying to outdo someone else, (unless you're trying to outdo each other in love!)  And let's just tend to our own gifts, keep them burning, share them when possible, and learn to be happy for others who succeed.

Go to it!  And if you need a consultation, do give a call!!!

Asking for Help

ART?  You've got to be kidding!!!   Copyright 2010, C. Schroeder, All rights reserved

Okay, so my life is a bit disorganized at the moment.  I am feeling a bit overwhelmed.  Breathe Caris.  Just breathe.  Focus.  Do your meditation.  Do your study.  Do some writing.  Talk to your shrink.  And then take things one step at a time.  Ask for help.  

There used to be this 7 year old at a summer camp in Brooklyn that I helped to run, and his favorite expletive was "Oh Man!!!"  Of course you can't hear his small voice that used to rise a couple of octaves in his exclamations.  His name was Jose.  I remember that.  Curly hair.  Big green eyes.  Scrappy little guy.  I often hear him in my head when something is frustrating me or scaring me or being a huge disappointment.  And it still makes me smile.  It helps a little bit. 

The photo above was taken last summer at THE WASHED ASHORE PROJECT in Bandon, Oregon.  And no, this isn't art...not yet.  That was dependent on the artist's vision and creativity.  I don't know how she managed it, but she transformed this ugly, awful garbage (largely plastic), which came off the beaches in Bandon and the surrounding area, into some marvelous creations.  A sea turtle.  A giant squid.  Henry, the fish which sat in front of the purple yurt.  he was orange and yellow.  You can see his beginnings below.  The artist's name is Angela Hazeltine Pozzi, and the link to the project is Washed Ashore Project Visit and enjoy yourself.  

The thing is, that project would never have gotten off the ground except for the dozens, perhaps hundreds of volunteers.  People who showed up to work once or twice a week, or sometimes just an evening on their way to someplace else.  Angela knew when to ask for help.  And the help came.  It wasn't an easy thing, I spent the summer there last year, and saw some of the realities.  But it was amazing how the people came.  A grant writer, a personal assistant, writers, musicians, environmentalists.  

Well, we have to ask, don't we.  It's like the guy who prayed to win the lottery but never bought a lottery ticket.  Asking is the hardest thing in the world for some of us.  I'm not sure why I find it so difficult.  I am usually feeling vulnerable and at my wit's end before I ask.  So here we are, almost into October, and I need to be packed up and ready to go by the beginning of November, with everything in place and figured out before then.  Mail forwarding.  How do I do things with the RV?  How does the electrical stuff work?  Can I get a car alarm installed, some kind of security system?  I want to have a motor scooter, so I have some transportation that doesn't cost an arm and a leg in gas.  What's the best scooter to get?  Should I just go buy it?  How does one put stability jacks on an RV?  Where do they go?  How does a Kindle work?  Wouldn't weigh as much as carrying books!  Or should I have gotten an I Pad?  And with all that new knowledge to pick up, I still have the very physical task of packing up.  Okay God, Jesus, Goddess, Spirit, Universe...help me please.  Send me the people who can help me figure this stuff out, and get this stuff done.  I'm so tired, and there's so much to do!

Caution!

"Look Alike"  Copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

Way back when I lived in Oregon, I was introduced to a wonderful plant called "Lamb's Quarters."  I remember asking the woman who told me she had a big pot of Lamb's Quarters on the stove, "What in the world are they?"  She took me back to her kitchen and handed me a bowl with some greens.  I looked at them, a little nervous.  And she said:  "They are the best greens on God's good earth."  I tasted them and concurred!  I still remember that wonderful first mouthful, so tender and perfectly seasoned.  They were so wonderful I found a field guide and looked for photos of the plant.  My friend eventually showed me the plant as well, and told me that they are best early in the season.  They are called that because the leaves look like lamb's ears and there are four leaves on the plant.

When I first moved to New York State, I was walking the woods one day.  I still remember the place.  There they were!  Lamb's Quarters.  A taste of "home."  So I gathered a bunch up, and thought I'd received some manna from heaven, went off home and steamed those lovely green leaves right up.  I'd made a meatloaf and mashed potatos for dinner, a little celebration because I'd found the lambs quarters.  My mouth was watering and the anticipation had grown to an unbearable point, when I finally sat down at a beautiful table, complete with a candle, music in the background.  I brought that first forkful of greens to my mouth.  Oh....I just about choked, the acidic plant searing my taste buds..  I spit those wretched things right out of my mouth and into a nearby garbage pail, running for the sink to rinse out my mouth. 

I went right online to look up Lamb's Quarters, and sure enough discovered that they have a poisonous look alike.  These are the plants, though I would never have mistaken them this late in the season.  They look vastly different from the coveted greens at this point.  That was my last foray into the woods for some wild greens!  The super market is just fine, thank you very much.

Over the years I've been learning that there are many people in the world who speak such lovely words.  You feel at home in conversation with them, open up your heart, think that you've made a wonderful new friend.  And then the poison starts.  It is unclear to me why people are malicious.  I've never understood it.  There are times when I can throw acid into my tone with the best of them, but I cannot remember ever deliberately trying to hurt someone else.  Those times when I do strike out, have been times when someone has gone to great lengths to do harm to me.  My nature is to want friendship, to be kind, to share what I have, which isn't a lot, but it is enough.  And I do my best to surround myself with people whose hearts are kind, people who inspire me to be my best self.  I can tell you that those friends are keepers.  They're the real thing. 

The other night I shared something very personal with one of those keepers.  It was something that was hard to talk about, but she heard me, and I knew she listened to me with an open heart.  She will be protective of that conversation.  And there is something powerful about the truth.  It sets us free.  And when it is received by one with a good heart, it washes away some of the poison. 

So here's to loyal, true friends...I'd better not try and list them here.  Too many to remember in one sitting...maybe they aren't so rare after all!

Grandmother Spider's Reappearance

"Autumn and the Spider" copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All Rights Reserved

It is that time of year when the spiders want to creep indoors where it is warm.  This big old spider has a web off the back deck, on some bushes.  Not sure if it's a wolf spider, or some sort of brown spider that usually hangs out around water.  I saw some more of them today when I stopped to look at motor scooters.  Big, like this one, weaving webs on a sign post, and successfully catching insects.  This one is not as large as she looks in the photo...thank heaven.  The photo is a bit blurry.  But you get the picture, sort of!

Back in seminary we read a book called Spiderwoman's Granddaughters by Paula Gunn Allen.  It was the writing of Native women.  Some interesting stories and poetry.  Transformational.  I took every Native American Spirituality Class offered during that time, and found my life deeply and profoundly changed.  Not only from those classes, but by that time in my life.  The changes in my thinking and my psyche.  Powerful stuff.  Spiders kept showing up.  I nearly walked through a rather gigantic spider's web one day.  The Spider is a symbol of change...the weaving of life and death.  And when spiders appeared to people in visions, it was such a holy thing that no one would speak of it.  That was frustrating to me at the time, as spiders kept showing up, and I didn't know what it all meant...except that there was something powerfully transformative happening to me, and there were no words to use.

It is an odd thing.  Spiders are something that most of us fear at some level.  And yet, we are almost never more than six feet away from a spider of some sort or another.  Now isn't that comforting?  Feeling as though something is crawling up the back of your neck?

Well, spiders are indeed showing up again.  I'm not sure what it all means, (other than the equinox has just past and they are looking to come back indoors for the winter),  but I can guarantee that something transformational is happening in my life.  A death and new life.  Not the final one of my lifetime.  But this is a journey I am taking, and I am weaving my lifepath, and I sense that the ways I am meant to serve are going to come clear in my life.

Next time you meet a spider...walk through their webs or nearly come face to face.  Stop a moment and listen for the wisdom Grandmother Spider may have to offer in her weaving.  Her amazing capacity for creation.  How your story is woven into the Story She has woven from before time.

The Heavens Are Telling of the Glory of God

Yellow Stone Lake

There is a very scholarly discussion on the lectionary discussion list to which I am subscribed.  It is interesting on some levels, though theology in and of itself has never been the thing I am most interested in.  I tend toward being a bit of a hermit, and over the past weeks there have been exchanges about the necessity of community, and of course the strong support there for the institutional church.  It is a bit biased as most of the list are clergy.  My own background is quite ecumenical, and more recently it has held influences from Buddhism.  But ultimately my roots are Christian. 

I find it quite amusing that yesterday I was writing about faeries, when the strong position for traditional Christian theology was being posted.  It stirs that hornets nest don't ya know.  I remember when one of my professors from seminary left church as he was just worn out.  His last words to me were that he just wanted church people to leave him alone.  I've tried to remain connected to "church" over the years.  But the past couple of years my associations have been more distant.  And the kinds of discussion happening on that e-list have become increasingly less interesting to me.  I am beginning to understand why so many people have left the church.  It isn't just about the hurt and hypocrisy.  It goes deeper than that.  The rules, unspoken and spoken, have become burdensome.  And much of "traditional Christian Theology" has been handed down to us through a very patriarchal system.

It is a great passion and love of mine to follow the lectionary passages each week.  It is quite wonderful to be back in that spiritual practice.  I believe there are new movements afoot because Jesus has become a bit weary with the legalism of so much that is "church."  And I can appreciate scholarly pursuits as much as the next person, but at the end of the day, they don't bring me or many others the comfort and the strength to walk the talk. 

Thank God witch hunts are limited to gossip and shunning these days.  No more burning people at the stake for their heresies.  I'd rather be in the good company of the women who practiced natural healing arts, and gave their lives because of that, than in the company of somebody totally lost in academic thought, so busy with his own ego that he doesn't have humility or grace to make room for others who think differently than he does. 

Faeries and Hornets and the Forest

copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

Faeries have always seemed a little "too out there" for me to believe in.  Poor Tinker Bell, her light fades as I write!  Not that I haven't wanted to believe.  But I'm not sure as to what I am believing in?  Where do they fit in the theological stuff that fills my life with it's exploration, feeding the scholar and the mystic simultaneously.  I'm not sure I ever believed in faeries.  As a kid that make believe world was not the kind I wandered within.  My make believe world was fairly morbid.  Stories were grim.  Ghosts and murdered children and mysteries on horse ranches.  There wasn't a lot of fun and frolic and the light heartedness that makes room for faeries.  It feels as though I missed out on something important, and that perhaps it would be a good time to revisit that place.  But I think when you miss that as a child, it is very difficult to ever find that space inside of yourself.
And you kind of look with skepticism at people who do seem to believe in that stuff.  Like, what's that about?  Seems childlike at best and childish at the worst, but secretly I wish I could believe.  I never much liked being a child.  There was just a little more control when you got to sit at the adult table to eat, or play cards with the adults after dinner.  Dolls and faeries and make believe just didn't compete with riding my bike all over town, fast as could be, or roller skating, or swimming or riding horses on the farm, or feeding the goats, or climbing haystacks.  I don't know, maybe it's having grown up on the prairies that make for a more realistic and practical view of the world. 

copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

Then there is this photo over to the left.  A hornets' nest.  It makes me nervous just looking at it.  A not so nice resident of the forest, but a very real one.  That is something with which I am familiar, and the kind of thing I know to avoid.  It is interesting that faeries make me every bit as uncomfortable as a hornet's nest, isn't it? 

I guess it's just that whether you're treking through faerie forests or the solid, down to earth kind, there are always dangers.  Things to fear.  Things to understand and to treat with respect.  And things to give a wide berth.

People that believe in faeries don't frighten me.  They're just a bit eccentric, and in my world that's just fine.  But when your theology sits on the left, there always seem to be hornet's nests.  You can be just walking down the path and not even hear the buzzing, when you're on top of a nest and you didn't realize you were, and suddenly all those angry hornets are after you.  I've gotten stung enough to try and avoid confrontation with those formidable insects.

These days, I guess I'd rather just stay far away from those whose theology makes so little room for loving one's neighbor.  These days I prefer to let the hornets live their lives without my interference, or even my observation.  I try to keep my eyes open for trouble spots, so we can live in the same vicinity in peace.

Maybe that's why I love water so much.  Hornets don't.  I just want to hang out where there's as little trouble as possible.

More Ithaca Waterfalls   copyright 2011, C. Cerdwyn, All rights reserved.

And if I see a faerie, or even a whisper that might be, I'll try not to ignore it.  Impossibility,  the Implausible, the miraculous and the joyful...well, those things I am well familiar with, and the faeries seem to be well acquainted with them as well.  So I suspect we'll be friends.  Though it's still like pulling teeth to write about them!

Favorites

"Too Tall!?"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

Cosmos are some of my favorite flowers.  My "anam cara" or soul friend laughs at me and tells me that I say that about every flower.  I guess that is true.  Lilacs are my favorite when they appear in the spring, sending their fragrance all over creation.  Hisbiscus are now one of my favorite flowers as well.  Deep red and passionate.  I've discovered a hisbiscus cooler at the Yellow Deli you should try.  It's a taste of heaven.  Lily of the Valley have been my favorite ever since a friend compared me to them when I was in college.  And cosmos are just such friendly flowers, and I love pink.  I mean how can you choose between flowers?  I'll take them all!  Please.  Flowers brighten my day in a way that only good news at the mechanic's can come close to!  I always remember when I moved from Nebraska to go to school at Concordia College in Bronxville.  Waiting in my room was a big bouquet of flowers from dear friends, sisters, Sarah and Shirley who knew I loved flowers.  They, the flowers, were treasured during those first days of adjusting to a new school, knowing that old friends held me close in their hearts.

The cosmos above are late in the season...the photo taken just before the first frost.  Did they survive?  T., owner of the cabin where I usually stay when I visit Ithaca, had been thinking about cutting them back as they were so tall and often in the way.  Just not practical to have these tall, gangly flowers reaching out over the sidewalk when you're trying to carry groceries into the house.  Yeah.  Flowers aren't always practical.  Beauty doesn't always fill that bill.  But they do something for the soul.   "When you have only two pennies left in the world, buy a loaf with one and a lily with the other."  A Chinese Proverb   Lily, cosmos, lilacs, a rose (the wild roses are delicious during June in Oregon!  Oh, and the wild iris that grow on the coast in May are exquisite...

A last wild iris the end of May in Bandon, Oregon.  Photo by C. Schroeder, All rights reserved, copyright 2011.

Oh dear...start me on the subject of flowers and I'm perfectly hopeless!

Timing

"Mr. Fuzz"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved.

"Timing is everything" they say.  And sometimes it is.  This little guy was moving fast in his field of clover.  Being born in a field of clover is a wonderful thing if you're a caterpillar, but there comes a time, and the time has come, when one needs to make a cocoon.  Time is passing quickly and autumn is a stone's throw away.  So I suspect Mr. Fuzz was rushing to find an appropriate spot to surround himself with that silky stuff of cocoons, readying himself for a long sleep and perhaps butterfly status come spring. 

There are times in our lives when we need to be aware of timing.  Times when we have to hurry toward the life that is waiting for us.  Times when enjoying clover is pretty much over, and perhaps we've lingered too long and we need to rush, to push through to find where we're supposed to be.  Those times are not easy on us, or on the people around us.  Leaving the familiar means gathering all of our resources together and pushing through our fear.  It means that some who are close will distance themselves from us, unaware of their own anger and pain in our leaving.  Others will push us out of their way so they can move on with their lives.  Still others will be very aware of their grief, pain spilling out, nearly drowning us in the emotion that accompanies leaving, and as much compassion as we have, we still know we must go, despite their pain, despite our own pain and fear, despite the chaos our going creates. 

Copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved.

It takes courage and grace to find one's way to being a butterfly.  Saying goodbye to being a caterpillar.  Leaving the familiar.  Dying a kind of death so something new may emerge into glory.  Some never manage it.  Some get eaten on the way.  Some just can't let go into that death. And some never find the strength to emerge out of that long sleep and make their way into the world.  But of course, some do.

And that means "GLORY!"  However briefly butterflies live, their beauty never ceases to stop me in my tracks.  Their very being is a glorious prayer. 

Questions

Art or Vandalism?  Copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All Rights Reserved

Hopefully this isn't a photo of profanity.  I haven't a clue as to what this says.  Perhaps some one of you knows.  Do let me know if you do! 

Who decides whether a certain thing is a piece of art or whether it's junk?  Who is the authority?  Is it the owner of a gallery?  The artist himself or herself?  The person looking at the art? 

Who makes the decision about publishing a book and whether or not it is the right thing to do?  These days self publishing bypasses some of the process, and you can find a wide variety in the quality of self published books.  Who is the authority?  Authority contains the word author.  So does the creator of the story or a book of poetry have that authority?  Or does the readership of the book make that decision?  Is it about how many people read it?  Or is it in the quality of the writing? 

Just some questions I've been wondering about.

Invisible

"Invisible Sundog"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

So that's a crazy name for a photo, isn't it?  I mean why would you do that?  A photo either has something in it, or it does not.  So why in the world say it has a sun dog when the photo doesn't show that?  Well, I suppose I do things like that because I'm a bit eccentric.  Always have been.  But the real reason in this case, is that there was a wonderful sun dog...a beautiful rainbow like thing around the sun.   My camera however, didn't like being pointed into the sun and simply refused to pick it up.  I tried many times to capture it, as that rainbow like thing was a beacon of hope to me that day.  A kind of confirmation, off in the west, that it is time to go chase rainbows again. 

Perhaps it is no accident that it is invisible.  There are some moments that one cannot completely capture and at the same time keep it free.  It is enough for me to know that the sun dog was there that day.  It was enough to feel Spirt's whisper, and to open my heart to that moment.  And more than that, wanting to pin down that moment was too much to ask.  There are many times that moments do get recorded.  But it is a good thing to remember that they are records of moments.  Only that. 

Spirit likes her freedom. 

Living Waters

Hidden Waters    copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

Someone, in a poem I think, likely Mary Oliver, but I can't quite remember where I read it, was speculating on whether or not water is a living thing.  I like to think about it in quiet moments.  It is obvious that you and I walk around, breathe, eat, sleep, our cells regenerate.  But water, well, that's not quite so clear is it?  It doesn't really have the six characteristics of life, so scientifically, it is not alive.  And perhaps it isn't.  Or perhaps some water is.  There is some water that is so sweet and wonderful and tastes better than anything in the world.  Of course, water is tasteless, right?  Unless it's got sulfur in it.  But I've tasted really sweet water, that feels alive when I drink it.  Much of the bottled water does not taste as though it has any life in it whatsoever.  There's a sort of blankness to it.  I know, I know, this sounds crazy.  But crazy as it may sound, I would bet that you have tasted water that has a sort of dead quality to it.   And water that tastes wonderfully alive. 

The scriptural references to water are many.  This week's lectionary has the passage about the water in the wilderness...of Moses striking a rock and water beginning to flow.  And there is the passage where Jesus tells the woman at the well he would give her living water to drink, and she would never thirst again.  And there is the scripture in the psalms which says:  "Like a tree that is planted at the water's edge, those who put their trust in God's word will bear fruit in season."    Water is one of those things we need on a daily basis.  Every single day.  Well, we could go three days without it, but it's not a good idea to do so.  Being well hydrated keeps us from getting sick.  It moves the toxins through our system so they don't get stuck some place and cause problems.  I wonder how long it had been for the Israelites before they started to complain?  A few hours?  A day?  Two days?  or were they stretched to their limit?  Had it been much too long since they'd had a drink.  I get their complaints, their fear, their arguments with Moses.  Moses doesn't seem to be very understanding.  Because he was the leader did he perhaps have access to all the things the average Joe did not?  Moses was on the privileged side of things, even though he had his problems too.  But I wonder if he lacked compassion sometimes. 

God provided.  Told Moses to hit the rock in front of the elders so they were witness to the miracle.  And water came gushing out.  So the story goes. 

The trick to having access to living water seems to be connected to the Word.  Study, prayer, meditation conversation, worship...those are the things that pour out new life in us.  Well...having it and not having it are things I've experienced.  When I pay attention and listen up on a regular basis, there is a certain flow.  Sometimes it almost seems as though one becomes part of that living water, streaming down the hillside, flowing toward that immense ocean that is God's very self. 

Master Story Teller

An old madrona    photo by C. Cerdwyn All rights reserved

Aging is a process.  I am aware of it in my own body and my mind.  Things are changing. 

Familiar

"Morning Trail" copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn All rights Reserved

This trail is familiar to me.  I have walked it often over the years.  Most of the time it's been just with Madeline the dog.  But once in a while I've walked here with friends.  I know this place.  It's many moods.  This one is subdued, a gentle rain falling, which is actually the beginning of the rain that brought the flooding.  There is the mysterious feeling, when it is full of mist, and sounds take on strange connotations.  There is the glorious, happy landscape, full of the light from a rising sun who's rays touch everything with a kiss.

Familiarity can be a wonderful thing.  Living in the same place for 13 years means that your roots stretch out all over the place.  Familiarity can be a frustrating thing as well.  In small town life, when you roots stretch out all over the place, and so many people have been part of your life at one time or another, well, there aren't many secrets.  And people somehow believe that it's their right to know your private affairs.  It can be a kind of voyeurism in small town life.  A very odd thing.

I'm thinking of a man who was rumored to have had an affair and whose sexual preferences were talked about all over town.  And there was that woman who was selling drugs and lost so much when it came out.  And the young woman with a mental illness.  She was well liked until it became common knowledge.  Now she's isolated and alone.  There is all kinds of speculation that goes around about such stories.  We certainly need to know when someone is a danger to others and take appropriate steps.  But I wonder how far we take matters into our own hands, believing we have a right to personal information about peoples' lives.  And then we make judgments, and make life more difficult for the judged, and we become self righteous.  We think we feel better about ourselves because WE don't engage in such things. 

Human beings are communal creatures.  We need each other in this world.  We need to feel less alone.  We need a sense of belonging.  We can find that belonging without excluding someone else.

The trouble with gossip and exclusion is that one day it comes back around to the one who starts it.  Whether you call it Karma, or simply believe that what goes around comes around, people who cause other people to suffer, will end up suffering themselves.

Kindness extended goes such a long way.   Refusing to participate can end a matter before it begins.  Caring about a person's well being and being respectful of each other, even when we don't understand some things is a better road.

I hope that's the road I will walk through my life.  A place where mercy and justice meet.

Failures, Successes and Spiritual Guides

"Winter is Near At Hand"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn All rights reserved

Interesting thoughts about Henri Nouwen from Diane Walker this morning at her Contemplative Photography blog.  She talks about Henri's need for approval when he was alive, and how some people thought his inability to live out some of his writing meant he wasn't fit to be a spiritual guide to others.  Ms. Walker goes on the say that it is often our failures that give us the ability to write about the struggle. 

Well, I can see both points of view.  I sat and watched Oprah's master class a couple of Sundays ago, and loved it.  I didn't agree with absolutely everything she said, but much of it, born out of her own successes was good advice.  Especially profound for me was an incident in which she surrendered her need to succeed...even picturing someone else in the position of success.  To me, that is success.  To surrender our own intense needs for acceptance and approval and to trust in the process.  Obviously Oprah has succeeded! 

This is something I am beginning to try out.  I have my own intense needs for approval.  And when that is threatened I really pull into myself.  It's not an easy thing to release this stuff.  I feel a deep fear when someone else in the writing group that I started, steps into a leadership role, and I feel as though I get overshadowed.  I want to push her aside, think of mean things to say or stamp my foot.  The ridiculous part of all that, is that I will be leaving soon, and someone needs to lead it!  And so I am practicing what it means to surrender...to surrender my group to God, to surrender my need to be in the lime light, to surrender my need to control, to surrender my vision.  But, but, but...I want to cry out, I started the group.  I worked hard to get people there.  I have loved it and nurtured it. 

And it was never MINE to begin with.  It belongs to all of us.  And that is what I love about it.  And I hope that if it continues it will hold that at center.  It belongs to us all.  That's my leadership style, to create space for everyone to shine and to share in the leading.  But of course if someone else has a different style, it can't be right!!!!

And so I share with you my weakness.  Putting it out there.  And I am practicing surrender, which I am hoping will lead to some new breakthroughs and possibilities.

You know the picture of the leaf and grass, is a reminder that in nature there is food for life in that which is lost.  There is no such thing as failure.  It is simply how we learn on our way.  

I'm picking up my new to me RV today.  Adventures are waiting.  Deep, deep breath.  I have much to learn.  And I am capable of learning it. 



 

Gratitude

"Flood 2011"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

A friend of mine was telling me this morning about a friend of hers who lost everything in the flood.  Everything that is except his life, his car, his computer and a couple of other incidental items.  His main feeling is gratitude.  That sort of buoyed me up!  I am in the process of packing to travel for a time and eventually perhaps move to another area.  The move isn't totally my own choice.  It comes about from some other situations in my life that are more than unpleasant and have to do with other people.  Letting go of my anger and the resentments has been full time work.  That work is pretty much caught up to date.  Walking around last week saying to myself, almost shouting to myself:  "Nobody owes me anything."  Was a marvelous gift.  And I felt it.

And today I am feeling the grief of letting go into the unknown, and possibly not coming back here to what has been home for so many years.  And some of the resentments reassert themselves.  But now I know how to release them and move on.  Not get caught and tangled in their web.  And that is an amazing gift. 

This is a time for clearing out and beginning again.  And that can be very hard work.  Physical, emotional, spiritual work.  So my friend's friend, who has that sense of gratitude in having survived is gift to me today.  An inspiration and a hope.  As people all around are cleaning up the muck from the flood, trying to reassemble their lives in some way, I will be praying and doing what little I can to help.  I think sandwich making on a large scale is in my future.  At least to some degree. 

And may there be some joy.  Even in the midst of loss and grief and having to pick oneself up and start all over again, may there be joy...and gratitude, for being alive and having a future to work toward.

The Wilderness is Waiting...

"Misty Morning"  copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

There's a bend in the river
the waters seem still
but if you listen you can hear
the singing, the rushing, the roaring
you can feel your heart thrill.
It is just ahead,
you are moving toward
the change,
and any moment now
the churning chaotic waters
will demand your full attention.
Get ready to paddle
for all you're worth
as you enter the fray.
Set your mind and your heart
for the journey you are on
this moment, this day,
requires your full commitment.
And even with all the seriousness of that
and the demands
and the dangers
and sometimes the terror
There is unfathomable joy
as your boat hits the first splash
and you're covered in spray.
Live into it.
Let yourself feel that joy.
No more robbing yourself
open yourself to the wild,
whirling waters of life
this wonderful world
this glorious life. 

The journey awaits!  I am preparing myself.  Your prayers are appreciated.

Coffee and Friends

"Mmmmm..." copyright 2011, Caris Cerdwyn, All rights reserved

This is another one of my favorite spots in Ithaca.  There is a lovely chair off to the right of this photo...a pair of chairs, that I often find available when I stop by for a rest, and a latte.  How in the world did I get introduced to this world of flavored, foamy, so strong coffee you need half the cup filled with milk?  I suspect my interest was left over from my early 20s when I lived in Brooklyn for a time, and my friend Virginia would ply me with this thick Spanish coffee.  It was more like syrup than coffee.  You had to add 3/4 cup of milk, and she would put in about 7 teaspoons of sugar to make it palatable.  I had never had such coffee before.  But then when you grow up in a house where decaf instant is a staple, you can probably see why I didn't develop a true taste for coffee until my adult years.  I loved that Spanish coffee.  Or maybe I loved sitting and talking with my friends around Virginia's table, our bellies so full of rice and beans and her favorite Sarah Lee Pound cake that we had to unzip our jeans to be comfortable.  The coffee was part of the deal at the end of that exquisite meal, and part of the company.  The laughter that filled that inner city Brooklyn apartment was loud and raucous and beautiful.  Friendships with women are a staple in my life.

My Tuesday night women's writing group that gathers around the table in a wonderful local coffee shop each week is another experience rich in its own flavor.  I sip a sugarfree Hazelnut, skim milk latte, my little splurge for the week, as we write together, read the surprising and wonderful things we've written, and laugh hugely.   Last night we sang to each other as we ended.  What a terrific group of women...from someone who is known internationally for her sculptures, to a woman who writes grants and works hard for justice issues, to another who cares for an aging mother in law and is one of the most giving and loving people I know, not to mention a gifted writer, to an ordained interfaith minister, to an amazing musician and well known singer, to the most gifted storyteller from Wales, to a young woman who loves the environment and works to educate others about it, to a few others who pop in from time to time that I don't know as well... and then there is me, poet, writer, musician, photographer and sometimes preacher, who is about to embark on a long journey to a new home.  

And then of course there is my very best friend from Canada, who makes coffee so strong and bitter I can't begin to put enough milk in it, and I am trying to cut back on my sugar!  One with whom I laugh, and feel so able to be myself...someone who sees me for who I am.  Someone who gets my humor.  Someone who shares my same commitment to faith, and has such a kind and generous nature. We have shared many a latte over the 7 years we have known each other, sharing our secrets and dreams as well.

Over the years, from the time I was a young adult working in inner city Brooklyn, to my present life, my dear women friends and all those cups of coffee have been consistently present.  I wish you such a life, full of rich flavors, belly laughs and dreams. 

Manna"

"Manna from Heaven"  photo by Caris Cerdwyn, copyright 2011, All rights reserved

What was that flaky stuff that fell every day in the wilderness, giving the Israelites food enough for the day?  I wasn't there, so I cannot guess what it may have been.  Some give it scientific possibilities.  This is from the far reaches of my memory, so don't quote me on this, but somewhere I think (how scholarly of me!) I read that it might have been the excrement of a certain worm that lived in that region.  And that worm or insect was most active during the night hours, and so the manna was present in the mornings.  I sometimes don't want to know the answers...I prefer to simply think of it as providence.  God's hand, and a miracle.  Though if indeed it was the excrement of a worm, I must say that I can't blame them for bitterly complaining!  But who am I to make any judgment of them or of God in the process?  I do enough of my own complaining.  Of course I offer lots of gratitude these days.  There is much to be thankful for.  But I'm human, and sometimes things feel really hard. 

The manna God provides for me is found in the simple and ordinary everyday miracles.  The blood flowing beneath my skin.  The great gift of clean, running water.  Hot and cold most days.  (We lost our water heater in the recent flooding, so for a couple of days it was only cold!  Those puppies are expensive to buy and have installed these days.  Double what it was back in the flood of 2006.  But thankfully our plumber, who is the best of the best, had it here and installed within hours.  No long waits or excuses.  Great, honest fellow who does his job well, and is fair about the price of things.)   

God provides, and it is enough.  And I believe this comes more deeply true with each passing day for me.  As I have relinquished and surrendered my resentments, and can honestly say "No one owes me anything," I am finding that there is enough.  God provides enough, and that doesn't mean that life doesn't have it's struggles and difficulties, but it does mean that there is a gift in it all, when I stop to find it. 

There is provision in ways we sometimes do not expect.  But somehow we live each day, and somehow, even in the losses and the griefs, when people we once looked up to, turn out to be cowardly, when institutions disappoint us, when we disappoint ourselves.  Even in the midst of it all, there is manna.  It takes wide opened eyes, a wide open heart, and gratitude for the gathering, gratitude for the taste, the aroma, the feel, the sight, the sound (which may be a quiet whisper) of the gift of that manna.