My eye was drawn to the contrasts between lines drawn and lines refused by what cannot be made linear: a cloud, a puddle of water, scattered leaves, branches of trees, undulating hills.
Thank you for sharing so honestly. I, too, have a difficult relationship with the country of my origin and have rarely felt that I was coming "home" after traveling abroad. It is complicated, isn't it? Now that I'm married to someone with a different country of origin, I am trying to see the U.S. with a new lens, to appreciate what draws so many immigrants to seek shelter and opportunity here. To see the ways in which our freedom is both a lie and a truth.
I'm reminded of Pádraig Ó Tuama's book "In the Shelter: Finding a Home in the World." There is so much wisdom offered in his reflections but these few lines felt most relevant.
"To name a place requires us to be in a place. It requires us to resist dreaming of where we should be and look around where we are.”
and
“At Corrymeela, we do not seek to undo differences, merely we hope and pray that we can learn to hold our differences differently.”
I am grateful to you both for leading by example and showing us how to be present to it all.
Thank you for echoing your experience, especially as a person married to someone who is from another place. I imagine you see the world through your partner's eyes alongside your own.
This statement is poignant and grabbed my attention: "to see the ways in which our freedom is both a lie and a truth." And so, how do we work with holding the tension between the two? The passages you share help us, and they help us inhabit place from within, showing us that it is right here in this moment that place presents itself, and how we come to this moment in this place is also how a place presents itself. Perception matters. And if we understand this, then "we can learn to hold our differences differently." What if?
To be present to it all (as you say)--this is our task.
There is something so profound and fitting about re-entering the US and being enveloped in straight lines. I realized, in reading your words, that I have worked hard to forge a non-linear perspective and, in so doing, inadvertently made the linear perspective 'less than' in my mind. When I saw your amazing photographs, I realized I want to see the linear model as just as exquisite as the spiral. I want to inhabit them both at once. Thank you for once again expanding me. 💕💕
What a beautiful reflection. You give us the whole--"I want to see the linear model as just as exquisite as the spiral." Yes. You draw us out of the tendency to put things in opposition (line/spiral) and to see the two poles as integral to the whole, which places them in relationship, as with yin–yang.
My dear sister-friend Renee! I am so glad you are "disinclined to abandon hope", for you are one of the hopeful that tether me to this earth and repeatedly awaken my own through your generous and articulate expression of love for it's creation.... all of it!
I awoke this morning at 4a.m. with a rumbling in my gut and a loneliness in my heart. In my "middle of the night" ponderings on the page, I realized loneliness is akin to longing, and went quickly to prayer; not the prayer of my religious upbringing, (though sometimes that can be helpful), but the prayer inspired by so many spiritually wandering pilgrims in my life, including you, that are anchored in presence to the luminosity of creation that reveals itself most vividly against the backdrop of it's darkness. John O'Donohue defines prayer as the "bridge between longing and belonging", the most visceral description I've encountered. That is what I experience....... sometimes! ("You can't always get what you want!")
When I read your letter to us this morning, I must admit, I felt grateful for your return, as grateful as I've been for your shared journey that has expanded my own with your direct experience of wild territories, and the freedom to explore them. I can only imagine that, on some level, they could feel as though they belong to no specific country. And now, re-entry into a nation so painfully divided. My heart feels your plight!
I am grateful for your return because this country needs more conscious people like you. Though not all will welcome you home as I will, many of the souls you have already stirred by what you've shared are, I'm sure, anxious to stay connected and mutually engaged, no matter where you are physically.
I am so touched by your description of prayer, Mary. After a sleepless night, I began my day feeling ragged. And then I read your words about prayer and it was like a lantern guiding me fully into soothing presence and connection. Thank you so much for this!
Thank you Jenna for sharing how my comment impacted you. Your words, "... it was like a lantern guiding me fully into soothing presence and connection" reminded me that we are lanterns for each other. In my postmenopausal sleeplessness, it was also comforting for me to be reminded there are other women out there sharing those dark hours with me.
". . . these dark hours": there are multiple layers of meaning here.
Some that come to me:
1) the personal experience of waking in the night
2) the collective experience of humanity on the cusp (in an interregnum between what was and what is coming)
3) the dark of not knowing, the murmurring deep, the primordial chaos out of which all unfolds--latent and waiting to come into being.
4) . . .
It occurs to me that these waking ours of later adulthood (both for women and men) may be a calling from the depths of within, from the spiritual dimension of human begin, which we are more sensitive to as we age. If so, we come to a new spin on what these waking hours are up to within us. . . .
It is a treasure to see you on this page--this piece especially.
I want to take up something here that you share about loneliness and longing, longing and belonging, the bridge that of prayer. And in there, you bring this: "presence to the luminosity of creation that reveals itself most vividly against the backdrop of its darkness."
This is rich. Loneliness here is the spark, the recognition of the longing to belong, and there, you turn to prayer. And what is prayer if not presence--deeply embodied presence? From this presence, you show us the 'luminosity' that comes out of the backdrop of darkness. You've "presentiated" of your own middle-of-the-night rumbling a profound truth of being. Some would say this is a cosmological recognition of the first impulse that would give way to existence, that first impulse a yearning--in essence, a loneliness--to be known by the Absolute. If so, then "as above, so below." And what did you do? Turn to prayer, the bridge that brings Presence into presence.
There is more that sings from what you share, but I will stop here so as not to water down this, except to say what you know already: It will be pure joy to see you.
Renée; I welcome you back with all my heart, and I totally understand your emotions about returning to a country so polarized and so full of violence. I can take a step back and understand how we got here as a nation, and it all makes perfect sense to me; for our civil war really never ended, did it? And I can say to myself, well, now all the racism, homophobia, misogyny, inequality is now out in the open for all to see; and I can say that it is necessary for a nation built upon slavery and genocide to finally once and for all confront the truth of its past which is still ever present. And I can even say that this is and will be very messy and scary and tumultuous with an unknown outcome. And I can get very depressed about all of this and hopeless about our future, especially for the next generations coming up, as you add in the very clear climate disasters awaiting us. And I can say that with all the chaos, cruelty, and hatred in the world, this is the current state of human evolution, where we are still very unevolved emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually as a species, while being amazingly evolved intellectually. So, accept the truth of where we are, I say, and that helps me to see things through that perspective. My hope is that we will eventually evolve as a species to that level of maturity and consciousness that enables us to finally live in harmony and peace with each other. We may or may not get there, and as you stated, let us not abandon hope. Instead, let us keep learning how to love better and better no matter what the state of the country or the world is. Does anything else really make any sense? To quote Lesley Duncan from her gorgeous song, 'Love Song": "Love is the opening door, love is what we came here for, no one can offer you more, do you know what I mean?....Love is the key we must turn, truth is the flame we must burn, freedom the lesson we must learn, do you know what I mean, have your eyes really seen?"
Thank you for this beautiful reflection on this moment in the human unfolding. We are at a particular precipice as the collective human, a precipice that is at once an invitation, a plea, and an ultimatum. It is what we have come to. From a certain view (integral), we could say it has been here all along, inviting us further into the not-yet-fully-taken step in they human. We are that, unfolding more of who we are. You show us the dynamic tension of holding it all, the despair and the hope, the profound power of accepting this threshold, of not backing away from it--it's too late for that--and letting ourselves become wholly transformed, what Thomas Berry invoked as the "reinvention of the human," the "Great Work" of our time.
Invoking your sulci! Brilliant. There are the miles and miles of caves and shelters you will need in this country of harsh lines. I will be aware of my sulci now for some time. Speaking of the body taken for granted (in the Cura post)! “Sulci, I’ve been neglecting you. Let’s have lunch!”
Perhaps we travel the miles and miles of sulci to find our way anew, lunching along the way in their liminality to metabolize what we have yet the wherewithal to name and speak!
Dear Renee, I feel the sense of anticipation at your return and it is mirrored back to me as the end of a cycle, the beginning of a new one and the duality of excitement and loss, what you have gained and what you can not reclaim, because everything is different. Making space for new exploration and the vastness opens up once more to your inner world. You get to choose your place in the outer world. What a beautiful gift. I rest here in reflection for the onward journey. 🙏
Thank you for this reflection "for the onward journey." Yes, the journey continues.
What gave me pause in what you share is this: "You get to choose your place in the outer world." It is a privilege granted me, at least at this time, that many do not enjoy. Nor would many have the freedom to write the words I wrote on the page for fear of persecution. These (freedom to move, freedom to speak) are privileges not to be taken for granted, and, these freedoms affect not only how we feel about the land we call home. They affect the totality of persons' lives. Thank you for this.
Thank you for sharing so honestly. I, too, have a difficult relationship with the country of my origin and have rarely felt that I was coming "home" after traveling abroad. It is complicated, isn't it? Now that I'm married to someone with a different country of origin, I am trying to see the U.S. with a new lens, to appreciate what draws so many immigrants to seek shelter and opportunity here. To see the ways in which our freedom is both a lie and a truth.
I'm reminded of Pádraig Ó Tuama's book "In the Shelter: Finding a Home in the World." There is so much wisdom offered in his reflections but these few lines felt most relevant.
"To name a place requires us to be in a place. It requires us to resist dreaming of where we should be and look around where we are.”
and
“At Corrymeela, we do not seek to undo differences, merely we hope and pray that we can learn to hold our differences differently.”
I am grateful to you both for leading by example and showing us how to be present to it all.
Mariah,
Thank you for echoing your experience, especially as a person married to someone who is from another place. I imagine you see the world through your partner's eyes alongside your own.
This statement is poignant and grabbed my attention: "to see the ways in which our freedom is both a lie and a truth." And so, how do we work with holding the tension between the two? The passages you share help us, and they help us inhabit place from within, showing us that it is right here in this moment that place presents itself, and how we come to this moment in this place is also how a place presents itself. Perception matters. And if we understand this, then "we can learn to hold our differences differently." What if?
To be present to it all (as you say)--this is our task.
Thank you for this.
With love,
Renée
There is something so profound and fitting about re-entering the US and being enveloped in straight lines. I realized, in reading your words, that I have worked hard to forge a non-linear perspective and, in so doing, inadvertently made the linear perspective 'less than' in my mind. When I saw your amazing photographs, I realized I want to see the linear model as just as exquisite as the spiral. I want to inhabit them both at once. Thank you for once again expanding me. 💕💕
Jenna,
What a beautiful reflection. You give us the whole--"I want to see the linear model as just as exquisite as the spiral." Yes. You draw us out of the tendency to put things in opposition (line/spiral) and to see the two poles as integral to the whole, which places them in relationship, as with yin–yang.
Thank you for this.
With love,
Renée
My dear sister-friend Renee! I am so glad you are "disinclined to abandon hope", for you are one of the hopeful that tether me to this earth and repeatedly awaken my own through your generous and articulate expression of love for it's creation.... all of it!
I awoke this morning at 4a.m. with a rumbling in my gut and a loneliness in my heart. In my "middle of the night" ponderings on the page, I realized loneliness is akin to longing, and went quickly to prayer; not the prayer of my religious upbringing, (though sometimes that can be helpful), but the prayer inspired by so many spiritually wandering pilgrims in my life, including you, that are anchored in presence to the luminosity of creation that reveals itself most vividly against the backdrop of it's darkness. John O'Donohue defines prayer as the "bridge between longing and belonging", the most visceral description I've encountered. That is what I experience....... sometimes! ("You can't always get what you want!")
When I read your letter to us this morning, I must admit, I felt grateful for your return, as grateful as I've been for your shared journey that has expanded my own with your direct experience of wild territories, and the freedom to explore them. I can only imagine that, on some level, they could feel as though they belong to no specific country. And now, re-entry into a nation so painfully divided. My heart feels your plight!
I am grateful for your return because this country needs more conscious people like you. Though not all will welcome you home as I will, many of the souls you have already stirred by what you've shared are, I'm sure, anxious to stay connected and mutually engaged, no matter where you are physically.
I am so touched by your description of prayer, Mary. After a sleepless night, I began my day feeling ragged. And then I read your words about prayer and it was like a lantern guiding me fully into soothing presence and connection. Thank you so much for this!
". . . a lantern guiding me fully into soothing presence and connection."
What delight, Jenna, to read that Mary's reflection was so exquisitely timed to nourish your own experience.
Thank you Jenna for sharing how my comment impacted you. Your words, "... it was like a lantern guiding me fully into soothing presence and connection" reminded me that we are lanterns for each other. In my postmenopausal sleeplessness, it was also comforting for me to be reminded there are other women out there sharing those dark hours with me.
". . . these dark hours": there are multiple layers of meaning here.
Some that come to me:
1) the personal experience of waking in the night
2) the collective experience of humanity on the cusp (in an interregnum between what was and what is coming)
3) the dark of not knowing, the murmurring deep, the primordial chaos out of which all unfolds--latent and waiting to come into being.
4) . . .
It occurs to me that these waking ours of later adulthood (both for women and men) may be a calling from the depths of within, from the spiritual dimension of human begin, which we are more sensitive to as we age. If so, we come to a new spin on what these waking hours are up to within us. . . .
Dear Mary,
It is a treasure to see you on this page--this piece especially.
I want to take up something here that you share about loneliness and longing, longing and belonging, the bridge that of prayer. And in there, you bring this: "presence to the luminosity of creation that reveals itself most vividly against the backdrop of its darkness."
This is rich. Loneliness here is the spark, the recognition of the longing to belong, and there, you turn to prayer. And what is prayer if not presence--deeply embodied presence? From this presence, you show us the 'luminosity' that comes out of the backdrop of darkness. You've "presentiated" of your own middle-of-the-night rumbling a profound truth of being. Some would say this is a cosmological recognition of the first impulse that would give way to existence, that first impulse a yearning--in essence, a loneliness--to be known by the Absolute. If so, then "as above, so below." And what did you do? Turn to prayer, the bridge that brings Presence into presence.
There is more that sings from what you share, but I will stop here so as not to water down this, except to say what you know already: It will be pure joy to see you.
With love,
Renée
Renée; I welcome you back with all my heart, and I totally understand your emotions about returning to a country so polarized and so full of violence. I can take a step back and understand how we got here as a nation, and it all makes perfect sense to me; for our civil war really never ended, did it? And I can say to myself, well, now all the racism, homophobia, misogyny, inequality is now out in the open for all to see; and I can say that it is necessary for a nation built upon slavery and genocide to finally once and for all confront the truth of its past which is still ever present. And I can even say that this is and will be very messy and scary and tumultuous with an unknown outcome. And I can get very depressed about all of this and hopeless about our future, especially for the next generations coming up, as you add in the very clear climate disasters awaiting us. And I can say that with all the chaos, cruelty, and hatred in the world, this is the current state of human evolution, where we are still very unevolved emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually as a species, while being amazingly evolved intellectually. So, accept the truth of where we are, I say, and that helps me to see things through that perspective. My hope is that we will eventually evolve as a species to that level of maturity and consciousness that enables us to finally live in harmony and peace with each other. We may or may not get there, and as you stated, let us not abandon hope. Instead, let us keep learning how to love better and better no matter what the state of the country or the world is. Does anything else really make any sense? To quote Lesley Duncan from her gorgeous song, 'Love Song": "Love is the opening door, love is what we came here for, no one can offer you more, do you know what I mean?....Love is the key we must turn, truth is the flame we must burn, freedom the lesson we must learn, do you know what I mean, have your eyes really seen?"
Ed,
Thank you for this beautiful reflection on this moment in the human unfolding. We are at a particular precipice as the collective human, a precipice that is at once an invitation, a plea, and an ultimatum. It is what we have come to. From a certain view (integral), we could say it has been here all along, inviting us further into the not-yet-fully-taken step in they human. We are that, unfolding more of who we are. You show us the dynamic tension of holding it all, the despair and the hope, the profound power of accepting this threshold, of not backing away from it--it's too late for that--and letting ourselves become wholly transformed, what Thomas Berry invoked as the "reinvention of the human," the "Great Work" of our time.
It will be a sweet, sweet moment to see you soon.
With love,
Renée
Invoking your sulci! Brilliant. There are the miles and miles of caves and shelters you will need in this country of harsh lines. I will be aware of my sulci now for some time. Speaking of the body taken for granted (in the Cura post)! “Sulci, I’ve been neglecting you. Let’s have lunch!”
Tara,
Your comment is the spark of today's delight.
Perhaps we travel the miles and miles of sulci to find our way anew, lunching along the way in their liminality to metabolize what we have yet the wherewithal to name and speak!
Thank you for the hearty belly laughter!
With love,
Renée
Dear Renee, I feel the sense of anticipation at your return and it is mirrored back to me as the end of a cycle, the beginning of a new one and the duality of excitement and loss, what you have gained and what you can not reclaim, because everything is different. Making space for new exploration and the vastness opens up once more to your inner world. You get to choose your place in the outer world. What a beautiful gift. I rest here in reflection for the onward journey. 🙏
Dear Louise,
Thank you for this reflection "for the onward journey." Yes, the journey continues.
What gave me pause in what you share is this: "You get to choose your place in the outer world." It is a privilege granted me, at least at this time, that many do not enjoy. Nor would many have the freedom to write the words I wrote on the page for fear of persecution. These (freedom to move, freedom to speak) are privileges not to be taken for granted, and, these freedoms affect not only how we feel about the land we call home. They affect the totality of persons' lives. Thank you for this.
With love,
Renée
I felt those words deeply Renee and hold those people in my heart that they may be loved unconditionally 💫🙏
Hmmmm. Thank you for this, Louise. 🙏