The (Almost) Daily Office

Chehalis River near Adna. Photo taken May 13, 2013

I’m reading from Joan Chittister’s The Fire in These Ashes: A Spirituality of Contemporary Religious Life.

The average seeker of God (is there such a thing as “average”??) might not pick up this book unless they were contemplating religious life or actively living it. But I would like to share a few paragraphs with you. Page 51 said it all for me today, I believe I actually yelled “THAT’S IT!” when I read the following words:

The spiritual quest, the search for God in time, the upbuilding of the reign of God, the attention to God where God is present in people drives religious life and impels it careening through all the other goals of life, no matter how praiseworthy those other goals may be. The spiritual quest tolerates no compromise with any aspiration less than the felt presence of God in this place, to these people, in this venture.

The spiritual quest in us is what always demands more than life has to offer. The person whose life is bound up in the spiritual quest never knows failure and never expects success, never know success and never gives in to failure. It is finding God in what we do that is the measure of our success; it is walking with God wherever we go that makes failure impossible.

To be totally committed to the spiritual quest means to respond over and over again to whatever beckons us beyond where we are to something even closer to the mind of God for us. The spiritual quest takes a person away from this ministry, away from these people, away from this place over and over again in life, so that God can break in to us and to the world in fresh and vibrant ways. When where we are has become enough for us, the spiritual quest has died in us. The spiritual quest means that we will never be satisfied with anything less than the spiritual life lived to the hilt in the life-growing graces of the material life around us. The spiritual quest does not flee life. The spiritual quest seeks God in everything, everywhere and will not cease until each step of the quest comes to holy completion. Where God is not, the spiritual quest demands that we bring to the situation the vision of what the moment lacks. To do those things  however, we must ourselves be steeped in the spirit of God, be alive in the spirit, be attuned more to the spirit than to the task.

‘Nuff said.

I have been fighting for financial survival for a long time.

Early last year The Newspaper, which was my only source of income, cut my earnings by more than half. They were struggling to make ends meet (understandably, print media is sitting in dire straits!), I got that, I get that, Therefore, I lowered my expectations and pushed forward.

And then, starting in March (March 23, 2012. Am I holding onto anger? Sadly, yes.) they cut me out entirely, leaving me without any income at all until I would agree to sign their (outrageously ridiculous, one-sided — yes, I am still angry) contract. I held out for six weeks before they finally relented and asked me to come back to write their weekly Outdoors section again. (Cards, letters, emails, and phone calls from readers pushed that along, I believe. “Where’s Kim?? We miss her!” they said. TBTG for them all.)

And then in November they started back up with the contract talks again. I alternated between trying to ignore them and trying to negotiate with them. That continued through January when I was finally told, “No, this contract stands as is.”

The contract they wanted me to sign was a contract giving them the rights to my work as though I was an employee and not a freelance journalist.

Newspapers OWN the work of their employees, and for that the employees trade their rights of ownership for medical benefits and such. It is a fair trade, I think. But I was NOT an employee, and they wanted all of the benefits of ownership of my work without paying me a single penny for those rights.

In mid-January, I resigned. It was the scariest thing I had done in a very long time. But I had prepared for it, I had saved up three months wages, I could do it. Physically, I could do it. And I would never starve, or lack a bed or the comfort of family and friends. I was okay. Physically.

Mentally? It was a major struggle and continues to be a major struggle.

Throughout the time leading into the struggle and during the actual event of leaving my job and then while income-less, I struggled mentally. I was already behind in my Nun Homework and am STILL just as behind (or quite nearly so) as I was when I started. This nun homework has to be done or else I don’t move on from postulancy to the novitiate. (!!!!)

My relationship with God is THE most important thing in my life. My journey in relationship is tied up with and nourished by the community of the Sisters of St. Gregory, my own parish community, and, of course, by God Himself. But just trying to physically survive and to mentally cope has put both of those community relationships — relationships that are vital to my spiritual core of well being — on the back burner.

And now, at a time when I have finally started to get money rolling back in (see my work in progress at Raintree Nursery’s Plant Care Blog, and I also have another redesign job waiting, TBTG!), I am STILL struggling.

I’ve started to think that perhaps that struggle has become a habit with me.

I have been working from sunup to the dinner hour. I am so mentally exhausted by the end of the day that all I can do is Crush Candy on my iPhone. I have no mental energy left for contemplation or the writing of reflections.

So, I have determined to BREAK that habit. My spiritual director has advised me to go on retreat. Genius. But when, I cried???

And then, today it came to me.

Just as I have been setting aside time for the mental and physical work — and limiting myself to only do that work until 6 p.m. (or else I would continue to fiddle with design until the wee hours), I must set aside a block of time for spiritual connection.

During these 10 days of Ascension, between the hours of 2 p.m. and 6 p.m., I will be on retreat. A total of 40 hours in the ten days of the season. A magical, mystical number that 40 is.

No, it is not a full retreat. BUT! I think that even those four hours each day for ten days will stretch my abilities as a human being (instead of a human DOing) and challenge me as a mystic-sister-in-formation.

I am not going to plan my hours or prescribe what must be accomplished during those hours, I will see what God has to say and where I am lead. Yes, I certainly HOPE that he helps me to sit down and do my Homework, but I am letting go of my expectations for this time — or, at least, will seriously try to let go.

I imagine that, like any form of meditation, I will spend a lot of time focusing on refocusing myself to the task at hand, listening for God’s voice through the din and clamor of my own human, egoistic demands.

Funny, that, “listening.” I just realized (and actually LOL’ed at the very perfect synchronicity of it) my next chosen book for the Nun Homework is The Sacred Art of Listening: Forty Reflections for Cultivating a Spiritual Practice by Kay Lindahl.

Wow. Just “Wow,” God. Thanks be to You.

Now, it’s 12:15 p.m. and I’ve got just one hour and forty-five minutes to get this week’s fishing report written and posted on my own website, Almost Daily News. The work is half done, I have some great photos of a local hot babe (who owns a coffee shop that I will link to) in a bikini top, holding a trout. Hmmmm, I wonder, is that nun-like behavior? LOL! Hey, God created her and her fish … and they are both very beautiful and worth sharing.

I love you, XOXO,
km

I rarely take time to actually sit down at the computer and read anything through from beginning to end anymore. But today, this article (linked below) captured me and held me captive throughout.

“The more I learn, the more complex it gets,” said author Luanne Armstrong in Life on a Farm, DailyGood.org.

Amen, sister, amen.

That simple statement has been my theme for the last several months. My theme of struggle, Paradox.

It seems, of late, that when I am asked for an answer about my faith, I hesitate. The hesitation to speak of anything, much less my Faith, has never been a struggle for me. But now it has become a great struggle.

I think I hesitate because I am still working on the Answers, and I still have plenty of Questions myself.

Many of us, as Episcopalians (as I am) and as other speakers of Faith, struggle to answer that question. And I think it’s an honest struggle. A normal, human struggle. A struggle that shows intellect and not the lack of it.

Some believe we struggle with that question because we haven’t been to enough Sunday School classes and don’t know the bible. Others think that we’re so wishy-washy that we hesitate to come up with concrete answers in fear of offending someone. And others believe that the foundation of our faith is so weak that even to speak of it will put it at risk of crumbling.

Some or all of those things may be true or partially true for any person of any Faith. But I think the reason many of us hesitate is because we believe Faith isn’t about HAVING all the answers. It is more about knowing that there ARE answers and then being comfortable with the idea that while you will not ever find all (or even most, not even SOME) of the answers in this life, you have faith that you will find them in the next.

I believe that the Answers aren’t important and that, even in the next life, they will not be important to us. And I believe that they are not important because we will be as One with the Answer, we will know the Answer as we know ourselves.

Even now, in our earthly bodies, we do not know ourselves as well as we could. We are full of mystery even to ourselves, how do we expect others to understand us fully when we do not understand ourselves fully? That is the point of deep contemplation, to get to know and understand ourselves more fully AND to realize the true connection we already HAVE with the One and True God.

As John O’Donohue said in the quote above, “When you really look at something, it becomes a part of you.”

The more time I spend looking deeply at this little world in my own backyard — the birds,bugs, and mice; the flowers, trees, and grasses; the soil, sky, and rain — the more connected I become to that world.

I am in the bird and the bird is in me.

I feel compassion for his struggles — for every feather that falls, for every love unrequited, for each hungry moment.

I fall in love with his beauty, I rejoice with him in his song, and I look at him in wonder and awe as he takes flight.

I am in the bird and the bird is in me.

Do I understand him completely? His every tweet, his every flutter? No, I do not. I cannot. But a lack of complete understanding does not bar me from love, compassion, relationship, wonder and awe.

And so it is with God. I am in God and God is in me.

Do I understand God completely? No, I do not. I cannot. But the more I look at God and look to God and be with God, the closer I feel that thing that I already know is True — I am in God and God is in me.

And if that is the only Answer to all of my Questions that I ever receive? Then that Answer is enough to fuel the Fire of my Faith for the rest of my life.

Collect of the Day: Ascension Day

Almighty God, who blessed Son our Savior Jesus Christ ascended far above all heavens that he might fill all things: Mercifully give us faith to perceive that, according to his promise, he abides with his Church on earth, even to the end of the ages; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

So much tragedy. So many tears shed as we watch and listen to the news. As my heart breaks for the suffering — both for those that suffer and those that cause the suffering — my heart is full of love.

I am so in love with this world. I carry a heart full of love and compassion for the people of this world. I am so grateful for my friends, my dogs, my family.

That’s it. That’s all I wanted to tell you. I love you.

We can get through this — all of this, whatever troubles come our way — together.

Barn Owl in my barn, Mar. 31, 2013

One phrase that cannot be defined the words alone. You must read the person, the situation — watch the face, read the body language, listen to the intonation, the urgency or lack thereof, sarcasm, rolling eyes, boredom, fear, distrust, anger, happy anticipation, elation, shock or sorrow.

“Are you kidding me? Nooooo!”

“Are you kidding me? Yesssss!”

“Are you kidding me? What was she thinking?”

“Are you kidding me? Why did you DO that?”

“Are you kidding me? What makes you think I give a rat’s fuzzy rump?”

It’s not just the words, it’s how you say them. Do I have a point?

“Are you kidding me??”

“I have great faith in fools — self-confidence my friends will call it.” — Edgar Allan Poe, Marginalia

I seem to be on a rant roll (if one post a month can even be called a “roll”), but it is what it is.

I found this image in a post on my Facebook page this morning.

I take the words of Christ very seriously and I believe he really meant it when he said (to paraphrase), “Love them, feed them, visit them, keep them safe.” And I believe that Christ not only fully realized that we, too, would get some reward for the good that we did, he built it into the plan.

But I don’t think he meant a summer vacation. In fact, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a part of his plan at all. The reward is in our hearts, in the strengthening of our relationship to Him and to our community — the reward arrives in the shape of a full heart, open and ready arms, peace, and joy in the knowledge that you have not just felt God’s love, you have passed it on to others.

Would you put more money in the offering plate on Sundays if there were a drawing for a prize afterwards? I think most of us would — those that wouldn’t, those who have already given what they had to give? They have already grown beyond the need to get something back — other than the spiritual rewards — for what they have given. To stand in that place, in that way of giving without getting, that should be the goal of us all.

To attend a fundraiser cocktail party with a price tag of $1,000 per person, spending $500 per person to get it? Shameful. To raise funds for your child’s school by selling cheap candles at $5 each and taking just half of that back to the school? To pay for something I really didn’t need in the first place in order to give 50% of its value for the organization? Ridiculous.

The event in the image raises $20,000. Of that total, $5,600 is immediately taken out in prizes, leaving them with $14,600. There is the hotel and food costs to pay for — which, even if both are donated to the event, it still costs, it is still money spent on food and place for those that can afford their own.

Are we so spoiled and needy that we must be given cocktails and appetizers and beautiful decor in order to pry open our pocketbooks? Do we really need the hope of a chance at a Grand Prize to wrestle $10 from our wallets?

I think not. I think we need to rethink how we think about fundraising.

I was a slow starter this morning. I had set my alarm so I would have enough time to get up and get to church, but when the alarm went off I hit the snooze button — three times. After each alarm, I could almost hear a voice, “Get up and go. You must go today.” But each time I hit the snooze button anyway. After the third time I turned off the alarm entirely, turned over and closed my eyes.

“Kimberly … ”

“Hear I am, Lord.”

“Don’t go back to sleep.”

The breezes of the dawn have secrets to tell you. Don’t go back to sleep.
~Jalaluddin Rumi, Sufi poet and mystic

So, I got up.

Today in his sermon, Fr. Richard told us the story of the eagle and the chickens:

A man found an eagle’s egg and put it in a nest of a barnyard hen. The eaglet hatched with the brood of chicks and grew up with them. All his life the eagle did what the barnyard chicks did, thinking he was a barnyard chicken. He scratched the earth for worms and insects. He clucked and cackled. And he would thrash his wings and fly a few feet into the air.

Years passed and the eagle grew very old. One day he saw a magnificent bird above him in the cloudless sky. It glided in graceful majesty among the powerful wind currents, with scarcely a beat on his strong golden wings. The old eagle looked up in awe. “Who’s that?” he asked. “That’s the eagle, the king of the birds,” said his neighbor  “He belongs to the sky. We belong to the earth – we’re chickens.” So the eagle lived and died a chicken, for that’s what he thought he was.

~Anthony de Mello (1931 – 1987), Jesuit priest and mystic

Fr. Richard talked about the difference between the lesser reality of the barnyard and the deeper, broader, greater reality of the skies — a larger view, an expanded reality.

While my head struggled with the idea of choosing an eagle (they aren’t on the list of my favorite birds for many reasons) and chickens (for whom I have great respect) for the story, my heart said, “Ah ha! THAT’S what is wrong with me lately: I’m an eagle. I’ve seen the view from high in the sky, I know the freedom of flight — but I keep coming back to the hen-house and try to pretend that nothing is different, nothing has changed and I’m just a chicken. I just can’t pretend anymore.

And, really, I think we are ALL eagles who have bought into the story that we are all just chickens.

At this crossroads in my life, I am quite lost as to where my calling is calling me to go and do. I do know one thing, however. I want to spread the word that we are eagles. Now. How to do that and still make enough money to feed myself? Therein lies the problem.

Am I making any sense at all??

So … at the end of my “retreat” I am still unsure of my path, but I trust that if I keep listening for directions, I will find my way.

… I know of little else, but I do know this …

(Says she, full of sappy, poetic drama — which, really, once she thinks about it, isn’t such a bad state of being.)