One Wild and Precious Life

Down off the Mountaintop

Interesting that this Sunday's assigned readings are the Transfiguration -- the origin of that "down off the mountaintop" phrase.  That's what's on my mind tonight.  It hasn't been an entirely easy week and a half, coming back to the real world after my graduation weekend, which was both literally and metaphorically a mountaintop experience.  I came back to many pastoral care needs, large and small.  It's hard being in a parish made up primarily of retirement-age and older people who inevitably go from vibrant, active retirement to increasing frailty and illness, eventually to decline and death.  Just now one of my best-beloveds in the parish (I know, I shouldn't have favorites, but it's an impossible expectation) is facing very serious heart surgery.  His bride of only 12 years (they are both in their 80s) is worried sick.  He is amazingly calm and accepting, whatever the outcome of this risky procedure may be.  My heart is breaking.  And he's not the only one, of course.  It has happened over and over in my 5 years here, and will continue to happen more as my tenure here increases.  Yes, of course, there is always an influx of new members (mostly young, healthy retirees who move to this area, the retirement capital of the midwest), who I also come to love.  But that doesn't make the loss any less painful, even though I truly believe the ones who die are in a wonderful place.

I'm also left after my graduation with this great void, wondering, "Okay, what's next?"  I'm caught between wanting to create a dozen projects right away, in order to fill that void (the loss of a program I was passionate about), and on the other hand, suspecting that a bit of fallow time is probably what I need -- a time to grieve, a time to discern.  I already have a half-dozen projects in mind.  What I know is that I need to be doing something creative (more about this in a minute), something spiritual, and something physical.

I think I'm finally back on track with my exercise practices, which haven't been anything approaching normal since Christmas when I was sick.  I'm back to running with the dogs (well, what I call my "old lady runs" -- I run where it's downhill or flat, but mostly walk uphill, and it's quite hilly here in the mountains), and back to yoga.  I know when I run, it's definitely going to be a good day.  I attribute it to the endorphins that get kicked up when my heart rate elevates.  It's also good mindfulness practice, whether it's feeling how sore and out of breath I can get, delighting in the shenanigans of my dogs, or noticing the beauty of the geography where I live.  I credit yoga with changing my life.  It has taught me to love my body (yes, even this aching, overweight, aging body), and it quickly became a spiritual practice, as well.  There were times during savasana that I felt pure bliss -- enough to bring tears to my eyes and a song to my soul.  And I am poorer when I'm unable to get to 3 classes a week, since I can't seem to discipline myself to have a daily home practice.

I've actually been making some art since I got home.  Yesterday I went to a friend's birthday party.  She always invites 2-3 dozen women to come to lunch in some restaurant that can accommodate us all, and insists on "cards only, no gifts."  Some of us go to great lengths now to create handmade and elaborate cards -- I saw that at least half her cards (of course we pass them around the tables) were handmade: some very fine, some very simple, but all lovely.  I made a large card (perhaps 8x11 or 9x12 -- didn't measure) with a decoupaged picture of an angel (her theme this year), a hand-crafted border, and "Ave" (greetings) painted below, with my birthday wish on the back.  I should have photographed it for you!  I coated it with acrylic gloss finish and it was barely dry by the time I had to leave!  I had a picture in my head of what I wanted my greeting to look like, how I wanted to write it -- and it actually came out very much as I wanted it to.  That's new for me, and I think maybe artistic progress.  I'm getting technically just that teeny bit better so that I can come closer to realizing the vision that I have in my head.  I love that.  What fun it was!

Tonight I'm making a collage for the inside front page of my journal.  I thought it might be a black madonna.  I thought it might be something spiritual.  Turns out, once I got to my studio, I was drawn to my paper souvenirs from Italy, and it's going to be Italian (pictures, ticket stubs, business cards, etc -- I guess they're called "ephemera"), on a red acrylic painted background.  I'm usually surprised by what happens, and this one is no exception!

So I've got physical and creative practices back in my life.  You would think spiritual would be easy for a priest.  It is, in a way.  I pray daily, and I mean it when I pray -- it's not just an empty practice.  Wednesdays I do centering prayer, and in our savasana at yoga class (the "corpse pose," the resting period at the end) I do my best to clear my mind and just rest in the presence of the Holy.  But there's nothing setting my heart on fire just now.  When I was cramming my head with all those spiritual books, doing the suggested spiritual exercises, it all felt much more alive and passionate.  It will come again, I know -- probably sooner, rather than later.  But now it feels just a little blah.

There is some good news, I think.  An elderly parishioner has decided, it seems, to become my "fairy godmother."  She's a great and very interesting lady, recently received an inheritance from her beloved sister, and I think is doing a little "life review," having also lost her husband a year and a half ago.  She has no children, and I think she wants to leave a little something that will outlive her.  At any rate, she has offered to help financially with my sabbatical, but also wants me to write a book (or an outline and first chapter, at least), which she will shop around to various agents with whom she has connections -- she has published at least one book, and also sells her paintings.  I don't know if this will truly go anywhere at all, but it's kind of exciting to think about.  I don't even know if it's ethical -- I need to think and pray more about that, I suppose -- to accept all this assistance from her.  Perhaps I really need to channel the money into the church, since she's a member here.  I would never want to use my position as her priest for personal gain from her.  I need to talk to others, I think -- my Bishop and spiritual director, to start with.  I have no problem with the assistance with writing a book -- non-monetary help -- but I'm not so sure about the other.  Any thoughts?

No photos today.  As I said before, my digital camera is broken -- it's quite a bit outdated, anyway, and so needs to be replaced.  Only my phone camera works -- no flash, less megapixils.  Time to buy a new one, but it's on my list, after new glasses and car maintenance and some bills that need to be paid.  It may be summer before I can take really good shots!

Snow is predicted for tomorrow, February 1, but I know that by mid-month, the witch hazel will be blooming!  Spring is almost here!

Graduation

Oh, my, it truly has been 3 weeks since my last post.  And I'm home, Toto, I'm home!  I had the most extraordinary weekend at the Haden Institute, my graduation weekend.  My heart is so full that I cry at the drop of a hat.  I have to come down (tomorrow) from my mountaintop experience, and I know it won't be all that easy.  Fortunately, I made lots of art (I have to wait till tomorrow to photograph it: my camera is broken, and my phone camera, with no flash, isn't as good), and a picture or two to send to Stacey (Hi, Stacey!).  I'm ecstatic to be with my dogs again.  Let me tell you just a bit more.

This training program for spritual directors does not seem to be overly demanding, when you see the surface requirements; it does require on average, a book a month (with 1-page written report), and a 3-5 page paper each quarter.  Over the course of two years, I've read 16 required books and written six papers.  I completed the last five books, however, in the last week of the course.  I finished five books and three papers in the last month (while I simulteanously celebrated Christmas with my parish, recovered from sickness, entertained my vestry (the elected, governing body of my parish), and managed several meetings.

I'm a recovering procrastinator; but I must say that the reading and writing were glorious.  They set my heart on fire; the authors danced with one another in amazing and unexpected ways.  Spirituality has been a passion of mine since 1990 or so (about 18 years).  And that's just the time I've pursued Christian spirituality; it doesn't even count all the time since about 1972, when I began to explore yoga and meditation, then other forms of connection with the Divine.  So between my illness at Christmas (I hate that!  I love the Christmas services, and want to be able to fully enjoy them, instead of worrying that I will have a sneezing marathon during a service!), my work obligations, and finishing up my work for this two-year course, it has been a busy month or so.  Once again, my personal coach helped to pull me through:  "You can do this, Ann -- you know more than you think you do!"  The prayers of others also kept my nose above water.  And I did it -- I graduated!  I now have a certificate of completion from this training program!  And I've learned so much, lived so much, loved so much!

Here is my diploma.  I know the photograph isn't completely clear, but I couldn't wait to photograph and show it to you:

I will frame it to hang in my office at work.

We also got something to commemorate our attendance of the six required intensive, 4-day weekends.  We got a tile, suitable for hanging on a wall.  In the 3 graduations I've seen in my time in this program, no class has ever graduated all of its members at the scheduled time.  Some students get tiles and no diploma (they've attended all the weekends, but not completed their coursework).  Last spring, our class made a covenant together that we'd all finish and graduate -- quite possibly the first class ever to do so.  Most of the eight of us had times in the interim where we were sure we couldn't do it, but we did!  The eight of us who attended six consecutive intensives also managed to get our work done!  Amazing!  Here's my tile:

The labyrinth in the center is the symbol for the Haden Institute.  Bob Haden attended training with Lauren Artress (Google her!), and the labyrinth is a very meaningful part of Bob's journey.  I've walked it each intensive, but this year we had the option not to walk it, as the temperatures were in the teens.  I was working on collages in the art room (we always have a well-equipped art room available to us, 24/7), so I did not brave the cold and snow.  The quote below, "Summoned or not, God is present," is mounted above the door of Carl Jung's home in Switzerland.  I love it.  The certificate will hang in my office at work with my other diplomas and certificates (including the preaching prize from my seminary days).  The tile will hang here in my home study.  God is always an honored guest in my home.

Our six areas of focus were:  Classical models of spiritual direction, Celtic Spirituality, Mystics (this weekend), Jungian models and thought in spiritual direction, midlife issues, and the sacred feminine.  In this mix we also learn the use of dreams in spiritual direction, a bit about the Enneagram and Myers-Briggs, and overriding issues about the importance of the life of the spirit in contemporary society.  Reducing our study to these few topics really does short shrift to the breadth of our training.  We present case studies and dreams every time we get together.  We have a 24/7 art room available for our use.  Our faculty is amazingly available to us during these times together.  And we get to eat the delicious Kanuga food.  Breakfast features unlimited crisp bacon, and I've suspended my resolution never to eat pigs.

I want to tell you more about the weekend.  I want to share insights, tell you about the magic of snow in the mountains of Western North Carolina.  I want to share my feelings about finishing up, not going back, and the delightful gift I was given at the end.  I will do this, I promise.  I've often planned to post things and then not gotten around to it.  But now I'm done with this huge obligation.  I've got some more photos to take and send, a bit of reading to do for my other study group, and work to catch up.  I'm looking forward to yoga tomorrow morning -- my body has been sitting still for far too long.  Just now, though, I have to get to bed.  I've slept too little and (yes, I confess) drank too much for the past 4 days.  I could not resist staying up late into the night with dear friends and too many bottles of wine!  Our first meditation each morning was 7:30 am (NOT optional), so it was "early to rise," no matter how late I got to sleep!  And we invariably wrapped up our studies about 8:30 pm.

But I'm done, my friends!  I hope to be a better blogger than I've been these last months.  I hope to make more art.  I've got reading and study projects sketched out for myself, as well, and will have to choose what comes first.  YAWN -- I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow!  Please join me in my rejoicing tonight!

Promise

Oh, my, it has been such a long time since I've written!  It's a very busy time in my church life, and the days and weeks have whizzed right by me!  I have been eavesdropping on other folks' blogs, but not writing anything on my own.  This has been a happy time.  Committees are meeting, the annual pledge campaign is over and done with, and I'm buzzing along, feeling energized and actually efficient (unusual for me, that last!).

I did get on the scale Wednesday morning, and the number scared me!  How has my weight got so out of control?  Since I've been running, my clothes have not really become tighter, and so I just ate along in blissful ignorance.  But not since Wednesday:  I'm back to 7 important, attentive, and healthy eating practices:  1) writing down what I eat and totalling up Weight Watchers' points (Thursday, when I started watching, but not really restraining yet, I found that I ate twice the recommended points!  Talk about out of control!); 2) eating only at the dining room table, rather than in front of the television and/or computer; 3) drinking at least 6 glasses of water every day; and 4) eating at least one salad every day.  Those simple things go a long way toward helping me lose weight.  Since I started, I've also decided/remembered to 5) take vitamins every day; 6) get enough sleep, so I'm not eating food because of sleep deprivation; and 7) exercise every day, rather than 3-5 times a week.  That meant I had to run late this afternoon (after church, lunch, and a snooze -- required for priests after church on Sunday).  Here are a couple of pictures I took:

slightly blurry doggies (Clementine on left, Buddy on right), attending to who knows what, and,

The evening sky on the last leg, as we headed home.

Anyway, my eating:  so far, as of yesterday, I've lost 2 pounds.  Not bad for 3 days' work!

Next, the garden.  I've had one 2-hour session with my "gardening coach" (she laughed when I called her that), and we cleaned out lots of stuff from the bed that circles my (half-circle) front porch.  We've pushed it back toward the porch by about a foot (it was about 4 feet deep -- too wide to really cultivate easily), and I gave a bunch of stuff to her, and also to my gardening neighbor -- Japanese anemones, hardy geraniums, and columbine (there are plenty left in this bed!).  My veggie garden is ready to put to bed, but I just haven't got it done yet.  I'm still working on mulching paths (thick layer of newspaper and 3-4" of wood chips), but my asparagus is still green, and the frost hasn't yet killed my rosemary or thyme.  I'm really hoping they might winter over, if I cover them with row cover cloth when it gets colder.  It has already been down below freezing at night, and they're looking good.

In December I'm giving an Advent quiet day for the Daughters of the King (watch the music if you follow the link -- it's obnoxious) for the whole diocese (they're an Episcopal women's organization dedicated to prayer and service), and I'm going to open it up to everyone in this parish, too.  I've decided to help them use collage to "explore their souls."  I'm not an official Soul Collage instructor, but this technique is too good to not share.  I'll also be using a "treasure map" technique that my friend Fran taught me.  It is a very powerful form of affirmation for the future.  Someone gave me a big stack of "National Geographic" magazines (great for collage), so I'm about ready to go on this one.  I've also been asked to do a quiet day for Churchwomen United next fall (2008), so that's exciting, too.  I love doing these days, and really hope someday that hungry hearts from all over this mountain, regardless of denomination, might be interested in attending them.  It's a time when I can do several half-hour sessions of intensive teaching, with quiet periods and lunch in between.  I can share more and different material than there's time to do in a sermon or even an adult forum class.

Oh, and I've been to a clergy conference in Gatlinburg that focused on church leadership and growth, and that got me all energized and inspired.  Once I share it with my vestry (like a parish council or governing board) I want to share it with the whole parish in a special parish meeting.  I know I can help them grow -- but I want everyone to know what it will take (lots of work and some money on their part), and what they're likely to get.  This is a cozy little retirement parish, and I'm not sure they'll be happy about the changes that growth might engender.  Forewarned is forearmed, my mother used to say.

Next October our Cumberland Adult Reading Council (a program started by our church) will be doing an elegant art show and silent auction with wine and hors doeurves that my friend Rara Schlitt (she's the artist who painted my Black Julian) has agreed to do for us.  We are so excited about that, too!  We're developing the board (or trying to) to get people with certain skills and energy.  And later this month, I'll be on (local, cable) television, promoting the program!  I love it when I can be part of something really noble, and help it grow!

My reading is coming along for the Haden Institute.  I have finished Going Home: Jesus & Buddha as Brothers, by Thich Nhat Hanh, a Vietnamese monk.  His discussions of the need for mindfulness and the connection between the living-vividly-in-the-moment that is a result of mindfulness, and the kingdom of heaven, spoke directly to me.  Now I'm working on Tilden Edwards' Spiritual Director, Spiritual Companion.  Sometimes I forget how much I like his style and his ideas; I've been reading his books since I came back to church in the late 1980s.  I think I've read about everything he's ever written, and he is a Wisdom figure for me.  I'm still plugging along on Karen Armstrong's The Battle for God, about the rise of fundamentalism in Judaism, Islam, and Christianity.  I love being stimulated by her ideas and content, but she can be a tough read sometimes.  My book study group just finished The Faith Club by Ranya Idliby, Suzanne Oliver, and Priscilla Warner (3 women, a Christian, a Muslim, and a Jew meet to discuss their faith together), and we're starting The Misunderstood Jew by Amy-Jill Levine in 2 weeks.  Except for the last one, which I haven't started yet, I highly recommend any of these books for those interested in topics related to religion and spirituality.  In my car I just finished listening to The Painted Drum by Louise Erdrich.  I loved it, too.  I listen to mostly fiction in the car while I'm driving.  I'm also just at the end of a Rita Mae Brown mystery (light and fun, as always), and about to listen to The Secret, to see what I really think about it firsthand.  I suspect there's a little bit of that good old American, "You can do it if you try, just think positive" slant to it, but I want to see for myself.  Next in my line of audio books is Water for Elephants, which my friend Rara gave to me.  I can't wait to read this!  I love elephants!  In fact, Rara has made friends with a zookeeper from the Knoxville Zoo, and I told her I'd really like to meet the elephants.  I think it could happen.  The Bible Study at church is just finishing Peter Gomes' The Good Book.  Whew!  When I look at this list, I can see that I'm doing lots of reading -- lots more than I realized.  Sometimes I bemoan my lack of reading, and this is a most excellent reminder.

So there's a lot hopping here on this mountain, and I'm one happy camper.  Our autumn foliage display just passed its peak this week (later than I've seen it in the 4 autumns that I've been here), and we were pleasantly surprised at the beauty -- we all thought the drought would ruin it.  I'll try to post more often, and maybe I won't have so much to say each time!  Those of you who pray could hold me in your prayers -- for strength, endurance, and dietary self-control!

Back to the Garden

What a fabulous weekend this has been!  Finishing my sermon by the close of the day on Thursday makes a huge difference; I don't have it hanging over my head on my (usually) 2 sequential days off.  And of course, the weather has been perfect -- 60s F with some clouds, but mostly sun; perfect weather for gardening.  Friday morning one of the guys from church came over unexpectedly (the one that cleared out one jungle bed in my back yard), and was showing a friend my gardens, in anticipation of digging up some of the dozens of black walnut trees that the squirrels so helpfully planted in my flower beds.  Walking around with them, really seeing the state of things, just made me sick.  I had many tasks to do on Friday, but Saturday was a different story!

Saturday I spent a half hour or so in the veggie garden, transplanting beautiful little strawberry plants from the path where they don't belong, into the bed that I enlarged last summer (many of those summer transplants died of neglect, so now is my second chance).  There is still a bit more room in that bed, so I'll do more of that before the frost (I hope -- that may come this week!).  Then I really tackled my front beds.  I spent a couple of hours pulling out only the very tallest weeds -- goldenrod and such -- and lots of the invasive wild clematis.  I also decimated a few clumps of grass (yes, clumps of grass growing in the perennial beds).  I trimmed up the suckers on the big maple tree, and cut out a wild honeysuckle that annoys me no end.  Maybe I can get the aforementioned parishioner to dig that thing out by the roots (interwined as they are with the maple roots) -- but at least I had the pleasure of lopping it off clear to the ground.  Oh, it was satisfying, and at the end of the day I had that familiar hitch in my gitalong that comes from lots of bending and pulling and carrying armloads and wheelbarrow loads of weeds and sticks out to the weed pile and fire pit.  Of course, I could see the difference, but as I tried to view those beds with more objective eyes, I kept thinking that if others saw those beds, they'd only say, "How poorly kept these flower beds are!"  Sigh.  But I confess I turned on my front porch light and walked outside last night, just to see the difference that I wrought with my very own two hands.

Today I agreed to adopt another kitty.  I've always had cats, but my last one died two years ago, shortly before I left for Italy.  A parishioner is moving to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan (WHY, in God's name???), and can't take her cat.  Today she asked me if I'd take it (and all its supplies), even if just to find it a good home.  Inexplicably, I found myself saying, "Yes!"  Well, my dogs, as I've probably told you, have been longing for a kitty.  They've been asking me to get them a kitty for months, now -- ever since one (or more) of the cats next door had a litter.  They stand in the chair by my study window and whine as they watch those kitties frolicking.  And this kitty seems like a good bet -- declawed (and I don't even have to bear the guilt for doing it), spayed, all her shots.  An indoor/outdoor kitty, I think.  And both my dogs get along ok with kitties, so we'll see how it goes.  I hope it's a bold kitty that will train them to have good kitty manners, rather than a timid one that I can merely pity and quarantine to the upstairs.  All I have to do is decide how to keep the dogs out of the cat box and cat food.  Our new family member will move in sometime this week.  Someday I'll tell you the story of how I changed from a lifelong cat person to a dog person.

And another happy thing happened today -- I worked for a couple of hours on the veggie garden.  I've been carpeting the paths (I have those lovely, timber-lined, raised beds that I made this spring) with newspaper and covering the paper with the abundant wood-chip mulch that is from one of my big maple trees that were taken down this year.  It really looks tidy, and takes care of all the ragweed that has flourished in that garden for years.  And the nice thing is that, since I subscribe to the newspaper and have such a huge pile of mulch, I can do it over and over again, whenever the mulch and paper break down.  After I used up my current supply of newspaper on the paths, I threw several wheelbarrows full of mulch around the outside of the fence.  I have this very poorly maintained border around the outside of the veggie garden, designed to keep the blasted weeds and grass from creeping in through the fence from the outside.  Of course, I have grass and ground ivy (how I hate that stuff) creeping in all around the edges, because I don't keep it up.  I still have one long (35-foot) side to mulch, but it looks so much neater!

We had such a hot, dry summer (despite days of rain, we're still on water restrictions, including no outside watering or at-home car washing), and I did very little work in the gardens for months.  I forgot how very good it feels.  I forgot how I want to walk around after dark and in the morning, and see the good work I've done.  I forgot how the resultant aches and pains remind me of what good work I did.  I forgot that feeling that must be a little like God felt, walking around in Eden in the cool of the evening, admiring God's handiwork.  Tonight I've got that.  I think I'm going to take a short stroll by the veggie garden, and survey my 10 feet of new path, and my 30 feet or so of newly-mulched border!  This weekend's work has reminded me of how soul-feeding, how soul-necessary it is for me to work in my gardens.  Now visions of manure and mulch and pruning are dancing in my head once again.  There's much to do before winter sets in, and I'm anticipating it all with great delight!

More good gardening news:  the horticulturist I met at the farmer's market called me -- she and her husband decided not to move out of town, and she's looking for work.  I'm going to use her as a "gardening coach" (I guess that's what the cool people have these days) -- to come and work alongside me every week or two, but also to advise me how I can make these many beautiful flower beds more manageable (including eliminating some of them -- I have two in mind for transplant and destruction!).

The other thing I did this weekend was to revise my study schedule for the Haden Program (my training for spiritual director certification).  This revision was to compensate for how dismally I've fallen behind my original work assignment plan that I made in September.  I've devised a reading and writing schedule that seems to be working (just finished another required book -- only 7.5 books and 4 short papers to go by mid-December), and I'm confident that, even though I fell behind, I can still complete all the course requirements by January, when I'm due to graduate.  Of course, that means I've got to stop this post right now, so I can go do my reading and some work on one of my papers.  I'll let you know how it goes.

Another Very Good Day

You know, when I run, it's always a good day.  Even when nothing really spectacular happens, It's a good day.  Currently I'm happily in a stage of minimal resistance to the run.  I find that some mornings I'm absolutely excited about running, some mornings I'm perfectly happy to take those doggies out for the 2 miles, and some mornings I'm absolutely looking for reasons not to go.  These days I'm excited, and I'll enjoy the wave of enthusiasm while it lasts. I suspect the cooler weather contributes to my enthusiasm, but I never know why, for sure.  I just know some weeks are easier than others.  This summer I increased my time to 35 minutes, and now am considering another increase, to 40.  Twenty minutes in, and 20 back home -- I think I'd like it, actually.  I can check on the developments in the new housing development where I run (not much traffic, which the doggies and I like, though they've recently learned the command, "Over!" to get out of the road entirely when traffic is coming).

I'm trying to catch up on my reading for the Spiritual Directors' certification program I'm enrolled in, the Haden Institute, and I've done some good reading today.  I'm trying to finish Thich Nhat Hanh's Going Home, and reading a few heavy, intense pages a day of Karen Armstrong's Battle for God.  I'm behind my original plan, of course, but I still hope to get all my work finished by the planned graduation date of January, 2008.  Not many students do.  So far this weekend, I've had delicious and inspiring reading periods, with music and my little indoor fountain on, to distract from traffic noise.

But there are other things.  My run was spectacular.  I've eaten well -- my homemade minestrone soup for all 3 meals -- does that sound obsessive?  I've done some gardening.  I've pulled up a lot of ragweed (if you keep pulling it, it grows smaller and weaker each time), and made plans to mulch.  I've found volunteer brussels sprouts, which both makes me happy and makes me smile, as the early spring harvest was a flop, due to caterpillar worms.  I suspect the cooler weather will control those pesky pests.  I'm harvesting this unusual fruit, don't know the name.  My hills and hollers neighbor introduced it to me, and then I found it sprouting in my strawberry bed.  The pods look like little Japanese lanterns, sort of (I'll try to take a picture tomorrow) -- and inside are these delicious little fruits.  I've been eating and eating them.

I need to get the strawberry plants out of the garden path (which I will then mulch with newspaper and the wood chips from my beautiful trees that were taken down this summer), and put them into the enlarged bed I've made (so I can enjoy several quarts over the spring season, and maybe some in the fall, as well).  I need to get some wire to string up my two thriving grape vines.  But pulling weeds, eating wild fruit, and (yesterday) harvesting herbs and the last tomatoes for my first fall homemade soup, was a pleasure.  Can you see why my perennials go begging?  I love the flowers, but my passion is in the veggie garden.  Maybe tomorrow I'll get more done -- that's always my hope.  Looks like I won't be driving to Nashville to visit parishioners with heart surgery, so maybe the garden can happen (between the requisite nap and Rick Steves on PBS).

Then late this afternoon I decided that it was time to burn the fire circle/trash pile.  I regretfully threw "Old Blue," my front porch rocking chair (rotted in 2 crucial places) on the pile.  I'm a sissy/very impatient about fire-starting, though I think I could light a Girl Scout-approved campfire, given enough time and planning.  I threw on some kerosene (less volatile than gasoline -- a parishioner taught me that) and lit it up with kitchen matches.  Everthing went up beautifully, especially given heavy rains the last few days, so I didn't have to worry so much about errant sparks.  I dragged some fallen trees from the overgrown patch behind my back yard, and they mostly burned, as well.   At midnight, there's still some good burning going on (just out to check).

Being in the moment is particularly delicious, it seems, in the autumn (can you tell I'm reading Buddhism for my SD program?).  There's not a motel room available in the whole county, reports a friend -- because the leaf-peepers are here.  Unfortunately they're a week early (or the leaves this year are a week late -- beautiful now, but spectacular next week), because though we've got some color, the best is clearly yet to come.  I tried to capture some shots on my morning run, but the color didn't come through.  More tries to come.  But you know, every single day is good when I can manage to "be in the moment," and I've had fair success lately.  My morning pages help.  My reading reinforces it.  My meditation and running also help -- it's hard not to be in the moment running uphill!

Tomorrow I don't preach on the lectionary (I vary only on one week per year) -- we celebrate St. Raphael's day (officially Oct. 24), and read different readings (Tobit being the most notable -- from the Apocrypha).  Raphael was a messenger, a healer, and the patron of "felicitous meetings" (singles love him).  Aside from a skit for the pledge campaign, I'll preach very briefly about Raphael.  This year I'm most taken by the inexplicable presence, in 2 different verses (Chapters 6 and 11, for those of you who care), of a dog, who travels along with Raphael and Tobias on their journeys.  There's no explanation or context for the dog's appearance, but the faithful canine companion is just there.  I don't think there's anything quite like it in all the rest of the bible.

I've had nearly 3 days off work (some thoughts/obligations did intrude, though I submitted with pleasure).  I finished my sermon on Wednesday this week.  It all feels good.  If you've been praying for me, it has worked, for sure.

Here's a bland, much-burned-down rendtion of my spectacular bonfire tonight:

Mmm, I wish it wasn't so late.  I'd go out there for another hour or two.  But now it's off to bed, smelling of wood smoke.

God's Voice

Well, hello, everyone.  I'm back from Kanuga, having completed my current 4-day intensive for The Haden Institute, my training program for certification as a spiritual director.  As I've said before, the primary focus of this weekend was The Theology and Thought of Carl Jung, and our primary presenter, Jerry Wright (sorry, no web page), a Jungian Analyst, was absolutely exquisite.  Not only does he know his subject matter backward and forward, but he presents it in a way we can understand, accompanied by his own stories that are truly glimpses of the Holy.  We also had a marvelous, 3-part BBC video (now out of production) about the life and work of Carl Jung.  I really soaked it up.  The case studies (this time our group processed five of them!) were, as usual, incredibly rich and full of learning for everyone, not just the person presenting.  And all the meetings with my small group, which has remained virtually the same (with a couple of additions and subtractions) over the 18 months, only get better and better, deeper and deeper.

But the very best part of this intensive training weekend was not any of the course content; it was what happened outside the formal meal and classroom settings.  Saturday night, I had a long, wine-soaked, heart-to-heart conversation with my roommate (I've had the same one for the 5 intensives I've attended, so we've gotten to know one another pretty well).  I'm not even sure how we got there, but eventually I found myself telling her that I do not express the true depth of my anger toward God, because I'm afraid I'll lose my faith, or God will abandon me, or somehow I'll find myself outside the circle of faith and love in which I've found myself.  My experience in human relationships has been that people simply do not want to deal with me if I'm angry -- which I think is less about the scariness of my anger, and more about most people's unreasonable fears of anger, and their preference for the superficial and "nice" rather than the "real," which sometimes includes angry feelings.  But who knows: maybe I'm just rude.  Anyhow, my roommate challenged me to challenge God, and as I discussed how unexpressed anger has unfailingly led to distance in my human relationships, I realized that I would have to have another angry conversation with God -- and better sooner than later.  I always imagined myself having a serious "sit down" with Jesus once I was dead, but didn't want to upset the applecart anytime in the foreseeable future.  I can't express to you how frightened I was.  As a parish preist, I felt trapped -- as though I didn't want to do anything to risk a "dark night" of unbelief as I have experienced in my younger years (I have to continue to preach, teach, and uphold the doctrines of the Church, after all), but I also felt as though I could not ask others to push the boundaries of their relationship with God, if I wasn't willing to do so myself.  Quite a bind, it felt like; and I got a stomach ache.  But I also couldn't gaze upon a bridge to cross without crossing it.  My motto in life has always been, "Oh, yeah?  Just watch me!"

Sunday after lunch we have several hours of "silent retreat" time.  We can do whatever we want, except Bob Haden does ask us to walk the labyrinth and to journal at some point during the time.  I took a nap, did a little journaling, anything to postpone what I then knew was the inevitable -- my "come to Jesus" talk with Jesus.  Finally I went into the empty, beautiful chapel -- the one in which Presiding Bishops and Archbishops of Canterbury have preached in the past.  The old wood and stained glass might awe one to silence.  But I had the talk, right out loud, that I knew I had to have.  I told God about my anger, and asked all the questions I've been waiting to ask (more about those at another time, perhaps).  I didn't get any answers.  The very best I can say is that nothing happened.  My faith didn't disappear.  My sense of God's loving presence didn't disappear.  I didn't get any answers, but I felt some relief, and God didn't strike me with lightning when I called "him" (and it definitely felt like "him" during this conversation -- it's often a "him" who doesn't want to deal with my anger) a bastard.  Nothing happened.  I was so relieved.

Then I went on down to walk the labyrinth.  My history with the labyrinth has been a mixed one.  It has taken me some time to "get it."  Probably the first ten times, at least (spread over at least 8 years), that I walked it, nothing happened at all.  It really felt like a big waste of time.  I might have even felt annoyed at wasting my time on it.  I simply didn't understand what all the hoo-ha was about.  In April when I walked it, it was a lovely experience, but certainly I didn't have any kind of mystical or religious experience.  I just managed to meditate beforehand, quiet myself down, and really enjoy being in the moment, walking beneath the sky and the trees, feeling the breeze on my skin and the warm cement under my bare feet.

This time was yet a little more intense.  Even though others were also present on the labyrinth, I could make myself feel utterly alone.  I could walk slowly, so that every step was a prayer.  When I got to the center I faced the four directions and made the profound bows of a half-sun salutation.  It was a perfectly lovely experience, well worth the walking.  I felt the sun, the breeze, the warmth and cool of the cement in the sunny and shady areas.  I felt everything.  It was very good.

Shortly thereafter we gathered in a large circle to share (as we wished, or not) some of the results of our silent retreat time.  I gave a brief outline of my time; I had no artwork or writing to share, as I most often do (this is encouraged and enjoyed).  Mine was good news, I felt -- I had risked a great deal, and lost nothing.  I loved hearing the reflections of others, and seeing their art and artifacts.  My heart was full.  And then the most remarkable thing happened:  I heard God's voice.  I've heard that voice before.  It's a voice in my head that isn't my own voice, talking to myself; it isn't the voice of a parent or loved one, or the voice of anyone I know.  It's not audible, like a voice outside my head, but I know it's not just me talking to myself, either.  If you've ever heard it, you know what I mean.  If you haven't, you probably think I'm crazy.  But the best part is what the voice said:  "I will never leave you.  Never, ever, ever."  Oh, my.  Did I cry?  You bet.  My heart was already wide open, listening to these people that I cared about, having digested a bit more of Jung's theology, which makes my heart sing, having felt closer to people than I usually do.  Yep, all my skin felt turned inside out, like I was wearing the inside, all my delicate nerves, right out on the surface.  But this voice was it.  I'll be telling this story in 20 years, and it will console me through drier, desert times.

And then I felt compelled to speak again (we don't usually do that).  I felt as though this might not be a message just for me, but for the whole community gathered there.  Earlier in the weekend, our small group had a case study where one person said that visions and messages from Native American vision quests were not just for the individual, but the whole community.  I had to tell, and I did.  I had to let people know.  I don't think anybody thought I was crazy.

So, yes, I got my grant written and mailed off before I left.  And yes, I'm keeping up minimally with my reading for the program (I finished a book this weekend, and now only have only 9 to go).  But best of all, I got to hear God's voice again.  Sometime I'll tell you about the very first time I heard that voice, nearly 16 years ago.  It doesn't happen very often; maybe I've heard it once in that long interim.  No, I'm not one of those smug little people who walks around believing that God talks to me all the time -- well, I guess I believe God does, but I seldom listen well enough to hear it.  This was a rare gift indeed, and I will cherish it.  What do you think?

Autumn?

Well, lots is happening here in my life, though I have no beautiful pictures this time.

I have made a detailed plan for the remaining requirements for my Spiritual Direction program (thanks to Will, my coach), and am hustling even to stay slightly behind that plan.  There are heavy books to read and lovely papers to write.  And I need to have it all done by January.  I've committed, covenanted with others to complete this.  So the reading is (and soon, the writing will be) hot and heavy.  Karen Armstrong (The Battle for God) isn't easy reading.  I find if I break it down to number of pages per day, I do best.  I can read 15 pages per day, but half the book is a lot to contemplate, all at once.  So I go for pages per day.  But there are at least 9 other books.

I'm also trying to write a grant for my sabbatical -- which has to be done TOMORROW.  I've got the biggest piece to write, but I'll get it done, despite myriad commitments.  Have I said that I want to spend 3 months in Italy studying 25 significant black madonna sites?  Have I said that could cost beaucoup bucks?  The grant deadline is actually the 17th, but I will be out of town.  So it must be mailed on the morning of September 13th.  I'm working, I'm working.

Thursday morning I leave for Kanuga (Hendersonville, in the beautiful Blue Ridge Mountains), for my next-to-last spiritual direction intensive training (focus this time mainly on Jung).  I finally do have a supply priest (only a few are willing to drive for at least an hour to get here -- we are an outpost).  Now all I have to do is complete this grant, write up a case study, and confirm previously made reservations with the dog lady.  Oh, yeah, and all my regular Wednesday commitments to the parish, including the dinner at 5:30 pm after Evening Prayer at 5 pm)

Send up a little prayer for me, for lots of work in limited time, will you?

Ah, September!

It's hard to believe that this is the last official holiday weekend of summer.  On the one hand, it has been such a long, hot, dry summer.  But it's still hard to believe that it's September already!  I'll be happy to see fall come, and the temperatures have been cooler these last couple of days.  When I got back from my run (later than usual, because I slept in so deliciously!), my weather page said it was 68F outside.  Lovely!

One of the things I love about living on this Plateau is that the seasons are fairly evenly divided, and I'm happy to see each one as it comes.  In Buffalo, I thought I would die by the time the snow ended (snow season was October to April, with cold spells continuing well into June), and spring was nearly non-existent.  Summer flew by in a flash, and was accompanied by guilt pangs whenever I chose to be inside, rather than outdoors, soaking up the weather.  And autumn, though beautiful there (as it is here), was always the occasion for depression, because my body knew that the long, long winter was just around the corner.

Today I worked in the garden for a spell, and then I got a double batch of spaghetti sauce on to cook for hours.  I use the recipe from Joy of Cooking (my all-time favorite cookbook -- it has nearly everything in it), but love this direction:  "Cook until sauce starts to thicken, about 10 minutes."  HA.  I mean, really.  I don't know what kind of tomatoes they used, but I use Romas, which are supposed to be the best for sauce; and my sauce doesn't start to thicken significantly for hours.  I used 5 lbs of tomatoes, and have over a gallon of sauce on the stove now (it will be less, once it reduces and thickens).  I'll freeze it in quart zipper bags, laid flat on a cookie sheet, and then stack it in my freezer.  It will be so very good on those busy winter evenings when I don't really have time to make something from scratch, but can heat up some of that sauce and eat it over pasta.  Yum!  The flavor gets very intense and lovely, cooking for hours as I do it.

This time I had the good sense to cook it in my soup pot, rather than a single batch in my large frying pan (full to overflowing).  Mmmmm -- it smells so good right now!  I've probably got enough tomatoes in the garden for another double batch, even with all I'm eating on sandwiches and in salads.  My hands were all wrinkly from washing and chopping tomatoes and herbs (though I'll admit I let my food processor do most of the chopping, once I had things chunked up).  At least I got the garden dirt out from under my fingernails!

Want to come over for dinner?  Bring more salad greens, and I'll make garlic bread, too.  A nice Sangiovese di Romagna would be lovely with this.  My sermon's done, so we can just finish off the whole bottle!

Amazing Day

Well, to begin with, I told you all that I would tell the tales of my return.  First of all, I greeted my doggies (retrieved from the kennel by a friend before my arrival at home) with great enthusiasm.  Gosh, I missed them!  I'm not sure what I'll do when I go on sabbatical for 2-3 months next year!  Then, of course, I checked the garden.  It was hugely overgrown, of course, with some tomato cages toppled by the weight of the plants (oops, forgot to stake them up), more acorn squash than I'll ever be able to eat (get ready for casseroles and pies!), and a couple of cucumbers the size of small baseball bats.  Sigh.  At least we got some rain while I was gone, and things weren't dead!

Here's what my grape tomatoes and beans looked like (the beans were just sprouting when I left!) when I returned:

Needless to say, the squash and watermelon were entirely out of control.  But, having read "Animal, Vegetable, Miracle" by Barbara Kingsolver, I trekked out to the farmer's market 2 days after I arrived home.  I picked up lots of veggies to grill and preserve, but my detective work did not yet (I still have lots of hope) unearth a source of pasture-finished, free-range meat, eggs, and milk.  I'll keep at it.  Meanwhile, I froze donated corn and some tomatoes already -- and the harvest has just begun!  I also grilled eggplant, squash, and red peppers to go with my chicken breast.

A visit to my neighbor, who just harvested 1/3 of his potato plantings, netted me potatoes, cabbage, corn, beans, okra (how shall I ever eat it?), a plethora of free items that I probably won't use, like brownie mix and canned icing), and lots of other stuff I didn't plan on taking.  They are so willing to give, and I to receive, even if I only went over to explore his potato harvest.  Anybody have any good, easy okra recipes?  I'm thinking a casserole with lots of bread crumbs and maybe tomatoes and red pepper flakes.

It's hard to be back in some ways.  Keeping up the free flow of creativity that I experienced while I was gone, while I'm struggling to catch up at work is a big challenge.  I think this is why God made sabbaticals.

So I also came home to a couple of really nice things.  A parishioner said he would build me a very small patio/foundation to set my grill on.  So I looked out my back window and saw this:

It's a perfect little space to hold my grill and a little table for implements, etc.  God love Lee!

And then there was this, to make me even more glad to be home:  it's actually the western, setting sun shining on on the eastern sky:

Then today, I managed to finish off two books and a paper for my spiritual direction training!  The books were "Living Buddha, Living Christ," by Thich Nhat Hanh (something my reading group has been chewing on since March!), and "Memories, Dreams, Reflections," Carl Jung's autobiography.  I wrote off the reports and the paper (on contemplative prayer), and now I've completed the entire first semester's requirements for my program (keep in mind, I'm a fourth semester student  -- only 3 semesters' requirements to go!).  Tomorrow I will buy a bottle of champagne to celebrate.