Giving Spiritual Space

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There he went into a cave and spent the night. And the word of the Lord came to him: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” …The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by  1 Kings 19:9;11

 

FORMS OF HOSPITALITY

from Henri Nouwen’s book, Reaching Out

We probably will never be free from all our hostilities, and there even may be days and weeks in which our hostile feelings dominate our emotional life to such a degree that the best thing we can do is to keep distance, speak little to others and not write letters, except to ourselves. Sometimes events in our lives breed feelings of bitterness, jealousy, suspicion and even desires for revenge, which need time to be healed. It is realistic to realize that although we hope to move toward hospitality, life is too complex to expect a one-way direction. But when we make ourselves aware of the hospitality we have enjoyed from others and are grateful for the few moments in which we can create some space ourselves, we may become more sensitive to our inner movements and be more able to affirm an open attitude toward our fellow human beings.

 

Photo Credit: http://stevensauke.blogspot.com/2013/08/high-noon-on-israelite-front.html

“You’ve Been Gone Too Long, Alice.”

Mom on John Stasneys motorcycle.

Marguerite Hemmer Kowats

Some thought she slipped
into madness for the way she changed.
She thought it was madness
to live the life she once did.

J.M. Storm

One evening when my little momma was 76 we sat together in her living room after supper and she said, “You know, Honey, there are dishes in the sink and I just don’t give a damn!” This was indeed a healing proclamation for me, as I had begun the struggle to let go of the heightened sense of duty which I had so diligently learned from her.

This new version of Mom reverted to her era as a flapper girl when she loved dancing in the arms of handsome medical students in the best hotels in St. Louis. Once she dropped a smuggled bottle of booze on a bedazzled lobby floor.  Call it madness if you will.  She knew how to live back them.

I rejoice that by the end of her life she had left the dirty dishes in the sink where they belong.

 

Life at Midlife

I am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days.
I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I fill it with people who understand that even dust is Sacred.
I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; It’s just not their task
I am no longer waiting for the perfect children; my children have their own names that burn as brightly as any star.
I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; It already did, and I survived.
I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; the time is always now.
I am no longer waiting for the mate who will complete me; I am grateful to be so warmly, tenderly held.
I am no longer waiting for a quiet moment; my heart can be stilled whenever it is called.
I am no longer waiting for the world to be at peace; I unclench my grasp and breathe peace in and out.
I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.
I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance in a holy circle.
I am no longer waiting for Forgiveness.
I believe, I Believe.

Author: Mary Anne Perrone

The Ego Hurricane: Curse and Blessing

Sleep leaves us totally vulnerable to the beck and call of our unconscious. We spend a few hours each night open to stark naked truth, for better or for worse. If we turn our attention to those nocturnal events in our wake time, we glean valuable insight.
Lately I have been called to that vulnerable space in waking time as I deal with an incident that sent me into an emotional hurricane of old tapes. Around and out and in my ego spins on the rim of the hurricane, covering the same territory ad nauseum while longing to catch hold of the Eye where I can be drawn down into Presence for as long as that gift lasts. This time is both cursed and blessed. Cursed because that slip into emptiness is unspeakably lonely. One day when I was twenty-seven years old I thought I was losing my mind. I wasn’t, but the feeling of abandonment was keen enough to convince me I was. I shouted out to the God of my youth, “Help me! I don’t know what to do.” And the way opened.

I hate the hurricane and I love it because it makes me strip down to my essential humanity where I have to wallow in my muddy feelings. It’s so damned uncomfortable. And so redeeming because it’s in the wallowing that I become vulnerable enough to let go and can slip into the Eye of Presence.

After four dizzy days of spinning and three sleepless nights, I have finally caught onto the innermost rim and slipped into the Eye. Ahhh.

An Offering of Spiritual Practices for Hurricane Times

  • I kept my battery powered candle on throughout the night as a symbol that it is through the wounds that the light gets in (Thank you, Leonard Cohen.)

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  • Sent loving kindness to the object of my wrath (between rants)…poured love like gold into the wound that wounded until it’s scar blinded with bling! Here is my version of it:

142 (2) I surround you with the light of god

  • Swore softly at my cat between clenched teeth
  • Called upon my angels and spirit guides to surround me and let pass into me and from me only that energy which is for the greatest good.
  • Cleansed my aura often with spritz spray because- electromagnatic reality
  • Debriefed with a friend
    My mantra:

Breathing in I am peace
Breathing out I release anger
Breathing in I am power
Breathing out I release dominance.
May it be so.

 

Photo Credit: http://www.nocturnepodcast.org/  Artist:  Robin Gelanti

Relinquishment

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1 Kings 19:11-13

11 God said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of HaShem, for HaShem is about to pass by.” Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountain apart and shattered the rocks by HaShem ’s power—but HaShem was not in the whirlwind. After the wind there was an earthquake—but HaShem was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire—but HaShem was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Relinquishment

After

Whirlwind
Earthquake
Fire

You come to me,
Finally Faceless.
Eyes Ears Mouth relinquished,
I hear the steadfast summons
With Other ears.

Here I am. Send me.

© Rita H Kowats May 21, 2017

 

Photo Credit: https://honesterrors.com/2013/10/16/the-cave-cities-of-cappadocia-were-carved-by-hand/

Good In the Very Genes Of Our Souls

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“Their Eyes Were Watching God”

 

Spiritual awakening is the process of recognizing our essential goodness, our natural wisdom and compassion. In stark contrast to this trust in our inherent worth, our culture’s guiding myth is the story of Adam and Eve’s exile from the Garden of Eden. We may forget its power because it seems so worn and familiar, but this story shapes and reflects the deep psyche of the West. The message of “original sin” is unequivocal: Because of our basically flawed nature, we do not deserve to be happy, loved by others, at ease with life. We are outcasts, and if we are to reenter the garden, we must redeem our sinful selves. We must overcome our flaws by controlling our bodies, controlling our emotions, controlling our natural surroundings, controlling other people. And we must strive tirelessly—working, acquiring, consuming, achieving, e-mailing, overcommitting and rushing—in a never-ending quest to prove ourselves once and for all…. Feeling that something is wrong with me is the invisible and toxic gas I am always breathing.

  -Tara Brach, PhD Radical Acceptance

 

Photo Credit: Goblin State Park Hoodoos

http://www.americansouthwest.net/utah/goblin_valley/goblins4_l.html

“The Art of Precious Scars”

 

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Explosion

DANGER
Sizzles between air molecules
In spaces intended for patience and love.
Two-year-old Alice, impatient for food
Punctuates the room with a crescendo of piercing cries.
You are in the kitchen cooking a dinner that refuses to cook…
The Protector is away on retreat.
My seven year-old empathic brain is on high alert
Pleaser Stand-in Protector
I seek a distraction to divert the explosion.

From my place under the high chair
I make faces at Alice. It has worked before
BUT
As the high chair is bumped the milk sprouts wings

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW?”

Your behemoth bulk looming over me
You snatch me up and carry me to my bedroom

Do you know how terrified and shamed I am
As you pull down my pants
EXPOSING
My tiny seven-year-old bottom?

Off comes the belt
Which leaves angry welts on
The seven-year-old
Who just wanted to keep the peace.

THE PROTECTOR
Never left you in charge after that.

Reconciliation

My fifty-five-year-old empathic brain had evolved
By the time of your visit.
The Protector came first on another bright Autumn day
After she died. “Honey, I’m alright,” she said.
You came many years later, having also evolved.

I lay on the couch before a roaring fire
Pretending to grade papers
While Beethoven’s Ninth wove its magic.
The chorus intoned Shiller’s “Ode to Joy”
And I became the music.
You came to me at the fireplace
As I stoked and the chorus proclaimed

Brothers, above the starry canopy
Must a loving Father reside.

“Honey, I do love you so much. Forgive me.”
Came the gentle whisper in my ear.

I wonder if Beethoven ever heard those words
From his abusive father.

Kintsugi

Sixty -six years later
The fissure gleams
With the gold
Of healing experiences
Whole gift to fellow fractured
Pilgrims

© Rita H Kowats 2017

 

 

For a poignant description of Kintsugi go here

Photo Credit: Wikipedia

An Easter Prayer for These Times

Lynn Schooler DAWN

 

Waiting for Hope

From the grip of all that is evil, free us.
Into the womb of the Sacred deliver us.

Brood us, Lifegiver.
Warm our crippled core
with the elixer of your hope.

We waited…
The immalleable membrane of despair
Stretched to the limits against
Unimagined possibilities.

We dared to imagine-

Barrier breached.

© Rita H Kowats 4-10-2017

(Inspired by The Lord’s Prayer, New Zealand Prayer Book)

 

 

The video takes a few seconds to begin…don’t give up!

 

 

Photo Credit: Lynn Schooler, Juneau AK

Cultivating Wisdom in This Spate of Fake News

TiB+4

 

The beginning of wisdom

was when I learnt the difference
between believing in the truth
and telling the truth
about
belief.

Padraig O’ Tuama in Readings from the Book of Exile

 

 

Photo Credit: Truth is Beauty pictured at Burning Man. The 55-foot tall sculpture is part of ‘The Bliss Project’ by Marco Cochrane, and she currently resides at the San Leandro Tech Center, across the street from BART. Photo courtesy of marcocochranesculpture.net.