Moments of Reverence

From my first afternoon glimpse of the gently-sloping green blanket on the grounds of Mount St. Francis, that hillside had whispered to me, "Come back; come and sit."  In the hours  following, as I enjoyed other places and people, still it beckoned.  I was inwardly a little restless until the next morning when I made the trek down one and then up another hill to the cemetery of the Sisters of St. Francis.

The grassy cedar-lined and silent knoll was of itself inviting, but the real lure was what it held.  The still yet moving treasure that called to me was row after row of nondescript rectangular markers designating the final resting places of the earthly remains of deceased Sisters.  Engraved simply upon each granite tablet was a name, with dates to note the span of a lifetime.  That is all.

As I walked among the stones, pausing and reading, I imagined the person represented by each one.  And I envisioned with much gratitude the service each woman must have offered to the Divine Maker and to humankind and the world, through hearing and answering a call and then committing to ministry.  I saw in each Sister a life connected not to the common trappings of human existence but a life of graced connection to Spirit.

In stark contrast, just through the border of trees, I saw raised and vertical headstones, many adorned with colorful artificial flowers:  the public cemetery.  While I reached out with intense desire for the spirit of the sacred space where I stood, my impulse was to shield myself from the view beyond.  I cannot say what was written on those upright stones, but I have walked in similar places and read notations about the roles of those buried and seen there the reflections of their possessions.  I myself own a spot in such a place.

Oblivious to the heat of that July morning, I slipped to the ground and sat on the grass, consciously inhaling for close to an hour the sweet fresh air of the gentle breeze flowing through the cedars.  It had been something of holy longing that led me there.  It was holy connection that kept me there.  The beauty and simplicity and purity of that burial ground lives in me still.

As I continue to reflect on that time of communion with God and the deceased Sisters of St. Francis, I am struck with the image of that grassy slope as a metaphor for life in the heart of God, simple and devoid of trappings, marked by longing that is at once nourishing and insatiable.  It is life that holds a sweet and fresh realness that resists the false securities and satisfactions of power and possession and achievement.

God invites us to come and sit, and we are restless until we make that trek down and up to the lap of God, where life is simple and real and desirous of more.

Captured Moments

Recently as I was driving in the late afternoon, the sky caught my attention, as is often the case.  The ceiling-like cloud formation just ahead, with a tiny pin-point of the sun shining through, spoke to me of a "sip of spirit."  I envisioned the scene as a photograph.

Then I remembered photographs which I had encountered in retreat experiences and the power of those photographs to open the mind to insight in both the outer and inner world and to break into the heart to tap emotion that might be lying dormant but nevertheles present.  Capturing that sip of spirit in the moment was to me like a photograph.  The thought came that pondering a photographic image is like being present in the moment.

A photographer friend once explained to me her criteria for distinguishing a photograph from a picture.  Any image can be a picture, she explained, but a photograph catches the extraordinary element of an ordinary image.

We have the extraordinary in the ordinary all the time and everywhere and we often miss it, along with the messages it offers, because we are "somewhere else."  We are not always present in the moment.  Perhaps we are rarely so.  The photographer catches the moment and we who view the photograph see things we might not have seen otherwise.

Haven't you looked at photographs of family members and friends and seen for the first time certain features or resemblances that you had never noticed in your face-to-face contacts?  The photograph perhaps enables us to be somehow more "present" to the person - more aware.  We meet the person in the moment captured by the photograph.

The same is true, I think, of scenic photographs.  As we look at the details, the light and shadow, the forms and spaces, the lines and content, we become present and aware in the moment represented by the photograph.  We live in that moment, as we are invited to live in every moment.  The photograph opens us to something more, as is the potential of every moment without the photograph.

Perhaps the miracle of the moments captured by photography is their representation of something of God in that moment.  The present moment is where we meet God most directly.  It is not where God was or where God will be, but where God is.  Perhaps another part of the miracle is their challenge to us to allow every moment to speak and open, for there is something extraordinary in every moment.  Perhaps as we sharpen our lens in the moments of our days, we will catch more of the extraordinary.

Cardinal Haiku

Intriguing flutter
Holding bringing singing truth
Sit and see and be


Tugging through my pane
Loving and luring me home
To rest and be - free


Undying passion
Tap tap tapping at heart's door
Open and receive


Unrelenting love
Circling pressing on my heart
Desiring entry

Cardinal Moments

Today is the fifth consecutive day a female cardinal has attracted my attention by fluttering at frequent intervals against my kitchen window.  It happens when I am in the kitchen but also when I am elsewhere in the house.  This morning, as I sat reading in my bedroom, I caught a glimpse of the bird flying at eye level up close to the adjoining screened porch, as if circling the house.

A few months ago, I had occasion to research the symbolism of the cardinal and was amazed at what I found, particularly on the website www.thecardinalexperience.com.  Today, while I am a bit concerned about this feathery body which must be bruised from collisions with my window, I am feeling also privileged to be visited by this powerful symbol.  The window faces a porch, so the bird is not accidentally flying into it but rather seems to be purposefully tapping against it as if, yes, trying to get my attention.  It has succeeded.

On the website is the suggestion to consider the unique cardinal qualities as they might relate to one's life situation.  This could enhance understanding of the cardinal encounter, it says.  At first, this might seem peculiar advice but, in a sense, it seems no more strange than pulling a book from the shelf or listening to an expert or simply living in a spirit of openness to gain insight and information.  What follows here is some of what I have gleaned about this unique cardinal symbol.

Considered agents of transformation, cardinals are often chosen to deliver deeply significant messages.  The bright red color and strong clear call are not easily ignored.  Cardinals exude passion.

With a color that symbolizes vitality, importance, faith and power, the cardinal can bring color and vitality into our lives.  Cardinals are year-round residents, part of the vital life cycle of twelve.  These qualities combine to remind us perhaps of our own importance in the circle of life, a circle where there is always opportunity for restoration, revitalization, and renewal.

The cardinal's song is clear and can be unusually loud, sounding like "cheer, cheer."  Cardinals cheer us up and cheer us on, advising to give up vanity and appearance and to follow the hope in our heart - on a journey upward.  Unlike many other birds, the male and female cardinals sing together.  The female uses her voice, reminding a woman that she, too, has a voice and encouraging her to find it and express herself with it.

Cardinals are nurturing co-parents, reminding us that our dedication to nurturing and caring for loved ones is part of the natural life cycle.  The way in which the male cardinal partricipates in caring for the family reminds us there is always a protective and caring father.

The strength, readiness, self-preservation and vitality of the cardinal may call our attention to personal practices which could be detracting from our health.  It can be a sign that we must be prepared to fight for our health - and that we have the strength of spirit to win the battle.

The base root of the word "cardinal" is connected to the word "cross."  "Cardinal" is also rooted in the heart, originating from the root word "cardo," meaning "heart."  The cross has four points, and the human heart has four chambers.  The rich history of the word goes on and on and provides enlightenment on the symbolism of the bird.

This just scratches the surface of cardinal lore.  I am not concerned in the least about scratches that may appear on my window panes as this herald of truth and love keeps knocking.  I am hoping she will scratch and poke and gain entrance to my heart, for the applications of cardinal symbolism resonate loud and clear with me.  I like having her outside my window.  I love what she brings to my heart.

"Haiku Moments"

"Have a 'haiku moment' - when your mind stops and your heart moves."  Knowing this definition is in the first pages of Margaret D. McGee's insightful book, Haiku - The Sacred Art - A Spiritual Practice in Three Lines, I scanned the book to look for the line.  Doing so, I saw that inadvertently I had given this blog a name almost word-for-word the title of her Chapter One.  Interestingly,  my first choice had been "Haiku Moments," inspired by her book but unavailable as a blog name.

Life at its purest is haiku: sensual and sensing, communal and communing, to-the-point and from-the- heart, lived in the now.  Reaching that level of purity and simplicity becomes challenged by our frenzied lifestyles, voracious egos, and restless brains and bodies.  Could these complications be unintended escape mechanisms that paradoxically slip us away from the home of that for which we most truly long?

While it is doubtful that life will ever become all haiku, perhaps it can become moreso as we allow and invite haiku moments, with the mind and body stayed and the heart opened and stirred.  Life as haiku is resting in and living from the simplest and truest of homes, the home that is our heart.

About Heart of the Moment

A grateful and loving receiver of the gift of life, I am seeking to live from my heart, resting in The Heart of all life.  Mom to three amazing daughters and Gran to four also amazing grandchildren, retired from school counseling and actively involved in community, my journey takes me through a full spectrum of experience and emotion, of which each moment is precious and full of the Divine - graced.  My desire is to attune to and live from the Heart that is at the heart of each moment and to express authentically what it holds for me.