Newborn babies all over the world are wrapped round in soft cloth to keep them warm and to recreate the safe confines of mother's womb. We are told that Mary wrapped her baby, Jesus, in swaddling cloth and laid him in a manger in the humble stable in Bethlehem.  Many of us embrace the historic fact of this birth, the first days in the life of Jesus, the Christ. And we may glean the metaphoric message, the expansive and all inclusive message of the Christ. 

Thich Nhat Hahn, Vietnamese Buddhist monk teaches us to seek peace in the midst of chaos. Many circumstances and emotional reactions threaten our peace. Tay, as he is called, teaches us to take those things that cause us to feel the opposite of peace - fear, anger, confusion - and hold them close. Wrap them in swaddling cloth, if you will. In embracing that which disturbs us, we conciously hold it in love. As we hold it close, we give silent acceptance of our fear based feelings. We transform the negative not by avoiding it or fighting against it but by holding it close and transcending it. Negative will not survive in an atmosphere of love and acceptance. In the swaddling cloth, the baby Jesus sleeps in safety and peace. In the same loving embrace, peace is born within us. 

This year - 2015 - has been frightening in many ways, economically, politically, racially, religiously.  It often seems that retaliation is the most logical response.  In the short term, that may feel good.  But when we take the long view, we know that there is another way.  The baby Jesus, born as a human child was one of the greatest teachers of all time.  He embodied another way, the Christ way, and taught radical living. "Love your enemy, do good to those who hate you. The kindgom of God is within you." He owned nothing, he angered church officials, he hung out with rejected men and women, he treasured the children. He was the radical Way.  And he showed all of us how to embrace the negative, wrap it in swaddling cloth, hold it close in love, transcend it. 

As this passing year departs, I have a challenge and an opportunity for myself and for you.  There is much negativity in our world, much for us to embrace in love. Wrap it gently and hold it close. Free it from within your mind and your heart. Greet the new year in the Christ spirit of love.  Release the old, bring in the new! 
                                         
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 Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Solstice Greetings; singing carols, shopping or bah humbug to it all – where do you find yourself this year?  Buoyant and expectant or exhausted and grinchy?

My Native American friend has two beloved celebrations each year; traditional Sun Dance and Christmas.  Both are acknowledgement of the sacred and mysterious, an immersion and an allowing for inner changes.  For my Jewish friend, the holidays are a time for repetition of traditional ways of fasting and prayer, honoring family and heritage, taking time apart from busyness. Another friend grieves at this time as too many memories of loss wash over her, fresh and raw, making celebrating a challenge. Some friends have solstice meditation, others attend midnight mass. All of us pause to worship and reflect, each in our own way. 
 
The Christmases of my childhood held a predictable, familiar rhythm beginning with weekly Advent church services and culminating with the joyous Christmas morning celebration. Our church was filled with dozens of poinsettias, candles, an enormous lighted tree and the choir at its best! At home we baked cookies for weeks. Santa was busy in our curtained off living room – no peeking allowed! On Christmas morning we woke to a beautifully decorated tree with an array of presents for everyone that Santa delivered the night before.  Mom cooked a magnificent meal; grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins came for dinner; we wore our “Sunday clothes” all day and Dad and I drove Grandma and Grandpa home through the quiet streets of St. Louis late on Christmas night. I felt a warm glow inside – magical, simple and reassuring that all was well.
 
Today I still love to bask in that warm glow and recreate those predictable and traditional rhythms. I like to be at home with a beautiful tree, good food and family. I like Advent, the time of conscious preparation; of memories and stillness and reflections upon what is meaningful today. I think about the state of our world, not with a sense of dread and gloom and pessimism,  but rather with a certain knowing that our world is, truly, a large family.  Everywhere, the members of our family want peace. We want to feel safe in our homes, we want to nourish ourselves with good food, to surround ourselves with loving friends, to be well educated and successfully employed. We want our children and grandchildren to be happy, to live in and contribute to a global community that sustains us all.  We want everyone in our family to live with that warm glow inside; simple, safe and loved.
 
Recently, a pertinent question was put to me. I share it with you for reflecting upon during this time of stillness and of celebration.  Here it is:
      What question do you go to bed with at night and what passion urges you to get up in the morning?
 
With this pivotal question in mind, may you give birth to your own wisdom, compassion, and vision. May all our world family be blessed because of your incarnation, your living presence.

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family gathered from near and far, bringing with them favorite memories and recipes
cooking happened all day long with frequent pauses for conversaations and snowball making
photo opps abounded
shoes and coats, sleeping bags and pillows piled everywhere
macy's parade and football games and riotous games of spoons
​story telling and laughing
dishes to wash and dry 
snacking and more  pie ......

now on the day after, I'm grateful for all of it, especially for the family! 

The harvest moon with the lunar eclipse was the magical portal, the bridge between the waning days of summer and the sure-to-come first snowfall of winter. But wait! Not yet! Back up to that magical night when the harvest moon rose bright orange and soooo close to earth.  My neighbor and I faced our lawn chairs east, brought out a picnic of fruit and cheese and wine, and watched the lovely lady move higher into the sky. Sometimes a few clouds drifted across her face. As if to let us know she was still mistress of the night, her hidden glow tinged the clouds with light, spreading shimmering color across the whole eastern sky.  Earth’s shadow, as it moved in, covering larger portions of her orb, contributed to the ever changing sky and cloud glow. Most of the time the full glory of the moon remained visible as the only light in the sky. Passing clouds and earth shadow added to the drama of light and dark, shimmer and steady glow, back lighting and full exposure.  What a fabulous introduction to the season that brings vivid color and crisp temperatures to these shortening days of autumn!
 
This season reminds me once again of how closely linked we are to earth and moon and tides of change.  Color is everywhere; fading of softer summer shades giving way to pops of scarlet and gold in the flower beds, shrubs and trees.  Buffalo, pronghorns and deer families in Custer State Park gathering, moving about, putting on layers of fat and heavy coats, are responding to the changes in their own instinctual ways.  I’m making soups and pumpkin bread.  Sophie prefers snoozing to romping in the park. 
 
I have a heightened sense of preparation.  All of my “should do” tasks can no longer be set aside as they were when hot summer days beckoned me away for another day to play in the sun.  Now the tasks are “must do.” Finish painting the window trim, weed and mulch the garden, harvest the rest of the tomatoes and beans, rake leaves, repot house plants and bring them back inside, wash windows, bring out the flannel sheets. The new gas stove in the living room has been taking the chill off mornings and offering a cozy reading retreat in evenings, just enough warmth for a deeply contended feeling. Tonight frost is predicted. Tomorrow? Wait and see.
 
Along with this stimulation of color and movement, I’ve introduced a new facet of “reflections from the interior.” My book of poems, “untying the web,” remains available through our local bookstore, Black Hills Books and Treasures.  I’m introducing art cards featuring a photo and poem in glossy 5x7 style, suitable for framing and with envelope and tissue paper, perfect to send as a greeting card. The cards are also available already framed to display in your home or office. Our local coffee shop, Mornin’ Sunshine, is featuring the display (below) of my books, cards and framed cards. 
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On December 5, I’m having a booth at “Christmas in the Hills Marketplace” at the Mueller Civic Center along with many artists and crafts people from the Hills area and beyond.  And, of course, all of my work can be ordered directly from me and shipped directly to you!  I’m really excited about this extension of my work to new audiences.  Hope you can participate in my venture in person at the bookstore, the coffee shop and Christmas in the Hills, or via the mail.
 
Click on “books & cards” on the task bar above to see more and place your order through the contact page.  I hope you enjoy my work and I hope the season stimulates you to manifest some of your own dreams that may have revealed thenselves during the harvest moon party time!

For my little family, June was graduation time with all of its parties and picnics and outdoor events. Then July was preparatory time with sorting and recycling and making lists of to do, to go, to shop, to play. August came and we took my granddaughter to college, a milestone for each one of us.  Saying goodbye was tearful and touching.  So much unknown ahead and life will never be the same for us - new college freshman, parents, siblings, aunt and uncles, and even for grandparents.  Certainly my granddaughter is at the center of all of this change, the hub of the wheel in motion.  We, the family, move with her; each of us cherishing memories and adapting to this new stage, eager to see her again at Thanksgiving and Christmas. And to share in her journey as much as she chooses to include us.

And now mid-September is here bringing with it changing seasons and bittersweet letting go.  My grandson is back into his routine with school and sports and lots of time with friends. What’s new is that, for the first time, he is an only child, with all its benefits right alongside missing his sister, his best friend.  My daughter and son-in-law have moved a little bit closer to empty nesting, downsizing to accommodate the movement of life.  They are thoughtful and gracious in the process, making each moment of this new phase meaningful.  Busy with jobs and chores, gardens and music, sports and academic events, support of community and friends, and each other.  I am an old timer remembering my own walk through these changes, my stumbles, my fears, and my celebrations.  Letting go was not easy then, nor is it now.  But now I’m a little bit better with acceptance and gratitude rather than with resistance.  Time moves us along regardless of our ideas of how it should or shouldn’t be.  And I know that each of us, whatever the seasons may bring, can find joy in what is yet to be even as we treasure what has been. 
                                       
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Tomorrow will be life changing. Truthfully, every day is life changing. What makes tomorrow worthy of noting as life changing is, first of all, my awareness that this is so.  And secondly, I’m spending the day with friends I’ve known for years, and we all are aware that we will be different after tomorrow.

At noon, my friend of more than 30 years, has invited me to her newly remodeled kitchen.  She loves her home, especially her kitchen, and she is one of the finest chefs that I know.  Lunch will be one of her outstanding creations. As her exquisite meal will nourish our bodies, our conversation will feed our souls.  We take our time and savor our memories even as we create new ones. We have cried and laughed often over the years and we treasure the miles we’ve walked together, the mutual friends we’ve known, our heartaches, our challenges and accomplishments and the crazy mistakes that we can admit to and laugh over – now.  Our friendship is as nuanced as fine wine or smooth dark chocolate. It’s the good stuff of life that we can't imagine living without!

Later in the afternoon, I’m joining three other women for some spirited conversation. I’ve known our hostess since our children were preschoolers, another woman since our children were teens, and the third woman is an acquaintance of a decade or so who is now becoming a friend. We each have known one another in separate as well as shared contexts.  We don’t all see each other every day or week; sometimes years have gone by before our paths cross again.  To say that our lives are much as they were when first we met would bring outrageous laughter and irreverent comments from all of us!  The core of each of us is still intact but life has shaped our outer expression and our inner beliefs. We’re all four close in age and in philosophic leanings.  We’ve raised children and now we’re grandmothers but we’re far from rocking chair grannies.  We know who we are and have accepted life – mostly – on its terms. We’ve worked for others and we’ve run our own businesses.  We have a deep spiritual life. We’ve loved and lost and we’re still loving.  We speak up for ourselves and others, we’re curious, we’re social justice advocates, community movers and shakers, most days we relish our retirement. We’re slower to react, more likely to admit we don’t have all the answers.  We’re kinder.  We can agree or disagree strongly and respectfully. We co-create with enthusiasm. We listen better and, hopefully, speak more wisely.

We’re also broken and healed over and lovelier for it all.  We are done seeking perfection, an honorable place in heaven and even our own sainthood!  We’ve discovered that simply being human is pretty wonderful and a whole lot more fun!  We laugh a lot, cry easily, and truly value the twists and turns that have made us who we are.  I like the juicy women we have become and I am certain our time together will be entertaining and transformative.

About my friend who serves me lunch, and about the afternoon trio of friends, and about others that I know well, I can say that for each of us, ageing is happening and is expected. And within the folds of our friendships, sageing is a cherished benediction, an unexpected gift of grace. 

In his novel, Jayber Crow, Wendell Berry shares these reflective words that may resonate for many of us:

If you could do it, I suppose, it would be a good idea to live your life in a straight line – starting, say, in the Dark Woods of Error, and proceeding by logical steps through Hell and Purgatory and into Heaven….But that is not the way that I have done it, so far.  I am a pilgrim, but my pilgrimage has been wandering and unmarked. Often what has looked like a straight line to me has been a circle or a doubling back.….Often I have not known where I was going until I was already there.  I have had my share of desires and goals, but my life has come to me or I have gone to it mainly by way of mistakes and surprises.  Often I have received better than I have deserved. Often my fairest hopes have rested on bad mistakes.  I am an ignorant pilgrim, crossing a dark valley. And yet for a long time, looking back, I have been unable to shake off the feeling that I have been led – make of that what you will. 

Do you remember your high school graduation? Or college? Or receiving your Masters Degree or your Doctorate or any one of the many varieties of certificates of completion? Along with the memory of all the work and hours of study come memories of favorite teachers who provided support and motivation, best friends who understood the challenges and the achievements, extracurricular activities that contributed to the fun of those years and helped us develop our talents and strengths. And at each milestone, there were celebrations created to bring together family members and friends and to commemorate the accomplishments and look forward together to the spacious future. 

This is the year when my granddaughter graduates from high school.  I love the other word for graduation, the one we use less often - commencement.  "Graduation" suggests a moving upward and a completion of studies and it's a very fine word for the occasion.  "Commencement," on the other hand, sounds auspicious.  It's full of the unknown. It is a beginning, a stepping into dreams, creating what has never been before for each one of us who stands at this place, in this moment. It's impossible to imagine where the road will take us but we begin anyway.  Just like those who have gone before her, I know my granddaughter is ready to take on the world that waits for her!

“When I heal I am not healed alone.” – ACIM, lesson 137

      Last night’s conversation with my friend, Rick, in Washington still lingers in my morning thoughts.  Old friends can fill in the spaces without needing to recreate the plot line; the narrative continues unbroken.  Rick and I talked about healing in its many connotations and nuances.  A common thread connects our conversation with Thomas Merton, with Richard Rohr’s second half of life knowing, with Rumi and Hafiz and Krishnamurti, with Thich Nhat Hahn, with the Anunciation, with modern quantum science and with numerous other ways of expresssing truth.  This morning the outer world beyond my windows is shrouded in fog and clouds. Inside, the sun rising on expanded awareness can be summarized thusly:

     “What is a miracle but this remembering? And who is there in whom this memory lies not?  The light         in one awakens it in all.  And when you see it in your brother, you are remembering for everyone.”             – ACIM, text, chapter 21

We knew it as children: “this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine” and “I’ve got the joy, love, peace, down in my heart”.  We are compelled in this age of fear and disillusionment and separation to dust off the memory, to let it shine for everyone, that we may resume an ancient, hopeful, truth-filled story; a remembering for each other.

For me, constant stirrings in the background, many conversations and “chance meetings” are culminating in a return and renewal of gathering together to share our wisdom and perspectives.  Beginning in July, I’ll facilitate “Common Threads.”

                               Common Threads – a spiritual look at many traditions
       I invite neighbors and friends to come together to renew and refresh and remember. 

• To knock at the door and to seek
• To bring questions that open us to possibilities 
  
• Meeting the second Saturday of each month, 2-4 pm in Hot Springs, SD
• beginning Saturday, July 12, 2015 
• Contact me for details at 360-393-0872

Many blessings to you as you reconnect to your own traditions and knowing, finding common threads. 

The birthday project, a year of remembering, came to a long pause in the time between Easter and Mother’s Day.  I had lots of memories swirling and I was trying to grasp them and find the words to honor and pay tribute to people I have loved and who have passed on into their next life.

It began in mid-April when my friend, Tim Standing Soldier, died at age 54.  To have known and to have been befriended by this remarkable young man is an honor I cherish. Tim left behind a devoted wife and a beautiful daughter, siblings, nephews, nieces, aunties and uncles, many, many friends. Wherever he went, whatever he did, Tim acted in integrity and with conviction, having a wisdom far beyond his years.  I believe Tim’s message to me and my way to honor him is to live as he did, speaking up for rightness and goodness across the blurry divisions of race, culture, sex, age, and all inequities. To Tim those divisions were artificial and insignificant. What mattered is the prompting of the heart. I know that I have many more of Tim’s teachings yet to decipher as I remember and sit with those memories and let my actions flow from there into the world.

And, once again, Mother’s Day gives us a chance to remember and honor our mothers and to look forward with our daughters and granddaughters. My mother had a stroke on Mother’s Day weekend in 2008.  She tried valiantly to recover use of her left arm and leg. Thankfully, her speech and memory were not affected and she remained in good spirits throughout the summer. But her husband, her son, her brothers, her parents and many relatives and friends were waiting for her and she began to move closer to them in late August and early September.  I spent every day and most nights with her until her death on September 17.   At dawn, as I was crooning “heaven’s morning breaks and earth’s vain shadows flee” to her, she passed peacefully with a tender smile and a clasping of my hand.  I have so many memories that are enriched and enlivened as I watch our old family movies that highlight the events beginning with my childhood and moving forward in time to include my children.  As the years pass for me, I feel better able to understand the heartaches and struggles –and the joys - that my mother experienced and to know her as a woman as strong and as vulnerable as I am, because of her.  As I tucked her into bed one night, she reached up and touched my face, saying, “Do you know how much I really love you?” I’m learning, Mom, I’m still learning.