solitude demands........

"Solitude demands emptiness, an aimlessness, a going nowhere, a certain having ' nothing to do". This was the Merton quote from yesterday that struck me like a flash of bright light. Then I remembered.


  It was August 9th. 1999, when I left Jonesboro and headed to the mountains of North Carolina for a retreat. I arrived 6 hours later, grumpy after my car stalled twice on a hilly pass. I lugged my 13 books into a very hot room and there I was for the next 5 days. It didn't take long for me to realize that this was not to be an ordinary getaway. The Voice whispered: "Put the books away, just spend time with Me. If you were with your beloved, would you read or pay attention ?Pay attention. Yes.I could do this and it would be more restful. I wouldn't have to worry if this Beloved is having a good time, He is God, after all."

I stuck with that entreaty except for one lunch when I picked up a magazine.The words I read seemed so empty, the feeling of leaving the numinous was so profound, that I immediately put it down.I was gaining valuable perspective.

 I would like to share some of the precious words and urgings that I received in those few days. I wrote:
......sitting under a huge beech stroking a friendly black cat and this came:

 "If you don't spend time with Me, these are just words.You will not feel my comfort. It is for you(this prayer time)You need this time with Me.It is my gift."

"Walk with Me, be with Me.Ask daily for the desires of your heart to be fulfilled. I delight in showing you my love in the answers to these things.Ask,ask,ask. It fulfills our relationship and strengthens it.I have so much to give and you ask for so little.You thank Me for things but do you truly believe they come from Me? Know that they do."

There is so much more but I want to share this final thought that makes me sit back in wonder. I left the retreat on August 14, with my journal.I got caught up in my life and the words were forgotten.Were they?This was my final note." These revelations came:

-spend an hour a day with Me at home.( I started doing this a few months ago.10-11 A.M.)
-keep writing your poetry.(I now do haiku religiously.)
-pray for the desires of your heart and expect them to happen.(began this when I joined our rosary group 5 years ago)."

How did I happen to find these journal notes that showed me that what was asked has been done without my willing or remembering it ?We are never left alone.

Don't be so sensitive!

Derrick was a lonely child. His parents, Helga and Swain had their child late in life and found him to be more of a nuisance than a blessing,  although they never said that. The boy spent most of his time in his room away from the voices that he still hears in his head: "You're being too sensitive. Stop being so sensitive." And he was sensitive. Loud noises made him jump, if his parents were moody, so was he, he hated being yelled at and often sought the refuge of his room. He would sit for hours, reading, building things and thinking deep thoughts. If he had only known then that 15 to 20 percent of all people are extremely sensitive perhaps he would have been more accepting of himself.

The shy boy has few friends, boys were rude and loud and girls were a mystery. Later, his dates were less than successful as he struggled to find words to say. No one had the patience to wait. After school, he found a job that suited him, accounting .He was by himself, pushing numbers across a page like puzzle pieces until they all fit together and he was satisfied. Just before he retired, he found himself asking a lady his age that worked for his company to go out with him..He liked her, found her quiet and reserved.On the date, Arlene talked softly and he intuited that she and he were alike in their ways but he had no words to open that subject and that was their only date.

He retired to a small house where the only living creature he talked to was Justine, his potted plant. .How he tended to and enjoyed her, moving her from window to window to catch the sun.One night, his loneliness became unbearable and he took a chair outside and sat in the dark hoping hear the sounds of voices in the alley. Minutes later, a beam of light came down from a huge sunflower and clothed him in a soft glow. His jaw softened, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes closed and he sighed.

The light came every night and stayed for about ten minutes and he joined it happily.One night, feeling frisky, he sat in the chair and then bolted to the house.The light came, focused on the chair and then started going around the yard like a spotlight, seeking him in every corner. He was holding back laughter as he ran to the chair where the light found him. It moved back and forth as if laughing too and saying ,"Ha, I found you!!!"

 One June night he brought Justine with him and he sat with her balanced on his knee. At that moment something crept softly , gently as a morning fog into his thinking. He was loved. He said it over and over :"I am loved,, despite my flaws and quirks, I am loved."Astoundingly, as he sat quietly, he accepted that revelation. Derrick got up from his chair, and wiping tears from his cheeks, took Justine inside.Without hesitation he picked up the phone and called Arlene.

It is important...

 Several year ago, I received a gift from my grown godchild, Paul,  who lives in New York. "A Year With Thomas Merton" has been on my bookshelf , ignored for awhile, but this winter I picked it up again. If there is such a thing as a perfect book, for me, this is the one.

 On the cover is a black and while picture of a stucco wall, a a bare climbing tree hugging it like a child and an uncovered window with a bit of piled snow.. This was the Trappist monk's hermitage. The scene moves me always.

 Inside are daily meditations , glimpses of Merton's spiritual life, that walk me through the seasons. Why such love ? Merton feels my favorite words, I see them on the page. Solitude, quiet, candlelight, shadows on the snow,  hermitage, bare trees, hills, prayer. He usually starts his musings, as I have learned to do when I journal, by describing his surroundings, sky,  trees, dog in the distance, choir singing in the monastery. Painting a picture of the piece of the earth that holds him, that inspires him.

 Today's reading offers these words to my waiting soul:..".deep snow....a marvelous morning... I wrote a poem.......deer tracks in the dark...., and then this:

 "As regards prayer- in the hermitage.To be snowed in is to be reminded that this is a place apart, from which praise goes up to God, and that my honor and responsibility are that praise. This is my joy, my only "importance.". For it is important. To be chosen for this!".

 I, we, have been chosen for this .So I sit at my window, looking out over the green lawn beyond which is the woods thick with bare trees.The turkeys, 5 today, scratch at the soil , a cardinal is wresting seeds from the full feeder. I feel the heat on, warming my cold toes, the cloud cover is grey and threatening. I am at peace with it all, solitude, trees, quiet shadows and praise. It is important.

memories of a drinker

  My father rarely enters my thoughts. Last night, trying to sleep, he came to mind and another word seeped in, one I rarely use, hate. You, my readers will have to pardon that word coming from a usually upbeat writer but there it is and it was true.

My father was an alcoholic and despite all we know about genetic predisposition, it's a disease and so on, a child views the lifting of that glass as a choice.To buy that beer is a choice. Once the choice has been made, the people who live in the house , not by choice, are victims of whatever that liquor unleashes.

This is a long story : before my wedding,my father, to his credit, stopped drinking. After a few hospitalizations, alcohol induced hallucinations, a gurney with him on it wearing a straight jacket and other horrors he stopped and he was ready to be sober.My sister's children only knew him as kind, quiet Grandpa.

 There was one common scene however that fills me with such anger that is impossible to contain.The four of us are watching T,V,; my sister and I must have been teenagers.He is in his chair in the usual state. Then it begins: he looks from one to the other around the room,  from my mother, sister and I .We can feel his stare.He is hunting for that one, maybe the weakest that day, to pounce.We wait as he chooses and then it begins: a personal attack. "You are a lazy lout , how could you get a B in English "..and on it went until that victim could no longer stand it and left the room, lessened as a human , powerless to respond. Just Dad being Dad.

This is how it should have gone with sane parents. A gaze over, maybe pause the TV and saying  words like this: "You are such a unique, gifted child.There is no one like you. I am proud that you belong to me.You do well in school, not everyone does, you come home on time, have many friends and activities. You sing around the house in that beautiful voice and you are loved beyond measure."

Pardon me while I say these words to myself and hope I said at least something like that to my kids.

Co-incidences?..

Easter Morning-Freidrich

     Sometimes on our spiritual journey we receive affirmations that we are headed in the right direction .Synchronicity, Jung called it. Signs.We are not supposed to look for these things but when we encounter them, I think the proper response is gratitude.

  Yesterday, a person that I know posted something on Facebook about the billions of years the world existed before man.... and how man created God because of needs... and there have been many gods...that was the drift. I was not going to respond because I know little about the Universe, nothing compared to those versed. But I kept feeling a tug to add my thoughts. I went to sleep but as soon as I woke up,the right thing.I hesitated because I knew what I would share could be mocked or disparaged but it seemed this was what I was given to do..

 I will post it here and then below, three amazing things that affirmed my leading.:

 " Then there is this: when you have had an inexplicable experience of God, when you have felt the Spirit leading you on a path, when you have sat on the floor to pray and merely said the word, Jesus, and have been filled with something you cannot describe but the closest thing would be Immense, Unexpected Love, when you have heard His voice tell you that you are loved and that there is a plan for your life,. when you have seen miracles, and when, because of loving Him back, your life is full of that Love, the quest to know when and how become intellectual distractions. You know what you know and knowing is all that matters.All the proof you need is your life."

 No one has liked or responded to that post but what I was asked to do, I have done.

These next three things tie it all together,.from what I have read today:

, 1 John 4-18 "We have come to know and believe in the Love God has for us." Today's reading.

2  "But prayer leads in various ways to the ineffable joy experienced by the mystics as "nuptial union"- Day 8, A Year with the Mystics.

3. A post on Facebook from a friend that she titled, "The Lord moodeth me to write."..from a  poem.
Co-incidences? I know what I know.

eyes wide open...

Art by Joanna Concepa


The rain has stopped , the river is up and the deer have ambled like ghosts back into the woods on this 4th day of a new year. This gift that has been given to us of time on this beautiful planet. I guess after 70 decades here, one can take the earth we walk on for granted. I take for granted that the geese honking overhead as I got out of bed this morning are headed for the river that is full and flowing. The mighty Flint. It is easy to miss what is around us, it takes effort to focus and appreciate.

  That is the main theme of our writing group.See, focus, appreciate and express that in writing or drawing. It is a life changer. The ability to look for and find small beauties and blessings that are out there every day.

I was recently given a book that, if all the pages were torn out, would still bless me. It is "The Art of Abundance."The title thrills. Are we awake to what we have or do we sleep ? How can we wake up?.Writing haiku helps us focus, taking photos requires looking for the worthy, looking deeply so that we can write that down, is another way. All this requires a belief that this is a good place and it matters that I notice.

The other day as we were leaving the Thrift Store, the book man who helps in the media area, was hanging some bookmarks for sale near the checkout. He handed me one, it had a penny attached and he wrote on the sticker, free/Bill.The penny had the letters WWJD cut out and the bookmark had a prayer. A simple gift that touched me. The penny is in a small blue bowl next to my PC. There is a strange rock that I found at the beach and on that is a medal of Therese of Lisieux, a gift from my beloved niece. Small things that represent great things to me. Messages.

Also in the bowl are two pennies and a dime,  found as I walk/run in my neighborhood.They have been run over and stepped on but I noticed and they speak to me of abundance. Just another reminder, keep your eyes open, notice, it's all a gift.

:"Awake , O sleeper.
arise from the dead,
and Christ will give you light". Eph.5:14.