Sculpting the river of my week

Kierkegaard

If anxiety takes a firm grip, then look down at the wild flower at your feet and up into the heavens at the birds flitting joyfully in the air

Robert Besson
Translate the invisible winds by the water it sculpts in passing

So to my week:

• On a silent walking retreat my soft heal crushes a snail into a shocking brown-greenness.
• In a mindfulness class I arrange spider plant (with babies attached) and a succulently small money tree so they are both at the centre of our shared circle of intent. While holding in my hands the third natural teacher (a dead fungus filled stump that was once a verdant Kalenchoa), we all sit and count our breath.
• I iron my orange shirt for todays marriage of a seventy-year-old guide leader to her scouting sweetheart. The creases eventually cannot resist the heat.
• I practice songs for next weeks cremation of a vibrant local boxer until the mechanical call of an NHS text reminds me of my own hospital visit. Smiling I realise that I will check in for signs of cancer on the same day I sing as he checks out for and from the same.
• Encouraging the fly, I flap my arms while he, or she, repeatedly hits the glass and belligerently misses his or her freedom to vomit over the grassy dog poo just outside the counselling front door.
• I spend many evening hours, over four days, crafting a poem evidently too pious, too repetitively derivative and self-conscious to share. Celebrating unfixing myself from insecurity and fixed view-point I post the poem on my blog regardless.
• Closing the door to the dog poo, I listen to confusion and hurt within relationship.
• I listen to withdrawal and concrete thinking.
• I listen to anxiety and lowness, anxiety and slowness, and forms of anxiety that meet unknowing complexity with palpitations and screams from inside.
• I listen to sexual and intimate delicacies.
• I read emails of thanks and connection, direction and guff.
• I listen and read and listen and learn and listen and interject maybe too much, certainly, this is too much, I say, too much, too much, and after its done I call all this stuff, my exhausting, thoughtful, heart expanding, working, contracting, intimately searching and ultimately, at the end of three days, I breathe with release and relief from another instalment of these fee paying weeks
• and yet
• Today I meet friends and family who too are sharing, who are struggling, who are marrying, who are dying and mourning, rejoicing and worrying too hard and too long, who are avoiding and connecting and flourishing, rejoicing and sharing their joy in fellowship and song, who are quietly anxious, depressed, or just happy, gregarious and maybe withdrawn, stressing to futures, regretful, forlorn and for each and all of this wonderful otherness, I call them my life, my riches, my home.

Strengthened in Life (version two)

 

Breathe-out

and

stand

the Weh

is at hand

 

 

Breathe-in

rejoice

let

Yah guide

the voice

 

 

for when

 

joy fills

the lungs

 

when

 

breath-full-ness

comes

 

anxieties fall

 

as

 

Love Be-stills all.

 

On the pure:

meditate

 

For the just:

Supplicate

 

Praise both:

 Noble and True

 

Give thanks for:

Virtue

 

With the Loveless:

Consort

 

and with all good report

 

‘Rejoice’

I say twice

 

and Be strengthened in

Life.

 

After Philippians V4: 4-13

Great chains of Being

Within a recent mindfulness gathering, a sweet young soul said:

‘As I have said before, I have noticed that I spend so much time looking down, full of my own thoughts, anxious, but now I have come to realise that all I need to do is look up and see the immensity of the sky and it all falls back into place and I am somehow calmed.’

And smiling outwardly then, and inwardly in the quiet of now, I touch half awareness’s of ancient wisdom echoing within our most human senses of spiritual drift…..

St Francis (looking at the stars) saying to us ‘if these are the creatures, what must the creator be like?’

Breathing with the writings of Richard Rohr who always Eager To Love expands upon Bonaventure, who riffing in fountains of fullness talks of that flow, that overflow that filling of all things into One positive direction.

Truly being within this Being

Be-hold:
all things in unity
Be-hold all:
contradictions and
coincidences.
let go to
cohere
in here and out to
hear wholesome Heart absorptions
awesome sweet knowings
in place and
Grounded.

clarion call:
clearly to
one and to all
through hard times to
timeless Oneness
and
Love.

Be-calmed with
Sweet Hearted St Clare.
walk
within her
lightness of heart and
firmness of foot
become
strident
and soft to
observe
Cosmic Bright Light.
squint as you
hook to string
Great Chains.
thread
Alpha, Omega and Eco
to systems beyond dots to this I this unstable
ego.

Be free from
fixations
Be
crossed above lines of
sentient living and
re calcification to
re-hang such stories to
Crucified
Wisdom.
pulse in flows of blood staining flesh
broken for dead beats to
Breathe in a-fresh.

If only

we

lonely could

stop running like chickens ruining the rest
fearful of loosing our feather-filled heads.

If ever together we
refilled in grace
yolked well and beyond this darkening place
to find
A Cosmos Grown
now and before

so to rest in-
completeness
ever after deepening in love from Our core.

Notes of thankfulness:

I am, once again immersing within the richness and flow of Richard Rohr’s distillations of Judy Cannato, St Francis, St Clare, Bonaventure and so give heart-felt thanks for and to all the known and unknown ancient and modern spiritual guides that I purposefully and inadvertently absorb plunder and surf within.