Reconnecting with Nature and My Life

Kristin and I enjoying the sun and view at Lake Tahoe

I am feeling a little scattered these days. I just returned from a 17-day, 4,000-mile road trip with my daughter to the Southwest. Just before I left I filed my taxes and refinanced my house, and I admit to not being as neat and organized as I have always wished I were.  I think neatness is either lacking in my gene pool or was missing in my family-of-origin mentoring. I know I’ll find my checkbook eventually. . . . But while organizational skills may be a bit shy in my makeup, I seem to have gotten a good share of adventure-seeking genes, a need for new experiences and stimulation.

Lake Tahoe

The trip came about because I was thinking about attending a retreat led by Paula D’Arcy in Santa Fe. I wanted to explore parts of the Southwest I had missed when I cut my 2008 cross-country trip short to help a friend. Specifically I wanted to see the canyon country of Utah and was thinking I’d fly to New Mexico and rent a car to explore. But as I began working out the logistics, the miles and cost of renting a car seemed too daunting. I looked at taking my own car but then realized driving to Santa Fe was out of the question if I only wanted to take a couple weeks (which is really all I could squeeze out of my schedule of classes, meetings, and other commitments).

I was sharing my thoughts with my daughter this winter and she was very intrigued and offered to be my co-pilot. Kristin got married in 2005 and lives about four hours away, and although I see her several times a year, we rarely get extended one-on-one time to really connect. I realized I don’t know my daughter these days nearly as well as I’d like to, as I used to.

Then gas prices started to climb and there were predictions that we could be paying more than $5 a gallon before summer. I was ready to cancel the trip and throw in the towel, but Kristin offered some great wisdom: “Remember what your mother used to tell you . . . ‘don’t postpone joy!’ If we don’t do this now, when will we ever do it?”  I love that I have raised wise children who sometimes – often even – give me good counsel.

She also offered to help pay for gas, or pay for all the gas if necessary. I reasoned that if we split the cost, we’d really only be paying $2-$2.50 a gallon apiece and that seemed more doable.

Then Kristin got offered a substitute teaching job that became a full-time position through the end of the school year. What to do? What to do??  She decided they could find a substitute-substitute for two weeks, the school agreed, and we began making plans in earnest. We would visit my sister and her family in Northern California for a couple days, then drive across to Lake Tahoe and spend a couple nights at a timeshare there, then on to Las Vegas (neither of us had ever been to Vegas) to visit good friends. Then on to St. George, Utah, where we’d spend four nights at a timeshare and then drive back via Indio, California, and drive through Joshua Tree National Park. Then split the trip north into two days’ drives, stopping in Pismo Beach for a night then across to I-5 and spending our last night in or around Redding. They were longer days than Kristin preferred, but we had a long way to travel to get her back to Coos Bay. 

Kristin and I at Red Rock Canyon

Weather, for the most part, was a wonderful change. Everywhere we went it was sunny and warm, except in the High Sierras of California. We stopped for lunch at Squaw Valley Ski Resort just west of Lake Tahoe and as we were eating our pizza (delicious gluten-free crust!) it began to rain. It continued to rain very fat drops, sometimes mixed with hail and snow, thunder and lightening, as we drove around the west side of Lake Tahoe to our timeshare on the Southeastern corner. I’m sure we missed some beautiful views because of the clouds and fog. But once we arrived at our destination, it was dry and good weather remained for the remainder of our trip.

Zion National Park

Bryce Canyon, Thor's Hammer

We were both completely blown away by the amazing rock formations in both Zion National Park and Bryce Canyon National Park. We also visited a couple of state parks – Red Rock Canyon outside of Vegas and Snow Canyon just north of St. George – that had beautiful rock formations. We saw wild burros and bighorn desert sheep in Nevada, lizards and mule deer and wildflowers in Zion, a desert tortoise – they are threatened or endangered – and a variety of lizards in Joshua Tree. And NO snakes!!

Teddy Bear Cholla

We timed our visit perfectly on several counts. We were early enough that there were really no crowds; there were still plenty of people at Bryce and Zion and many of them were from other countries, but we had no problems with crowds on trails or shuttles or at any of the facilities. We were able to visit both Zion and Bryce Canyon during the free week, saving us $50 in entry fees. When we arrived at Joshua Tree the week had ended so we did have to pay $15 to visit but we found that the rain we experienced in Squaw Valley earlier had encouraged the cactus, cholla, ocotillo and wildflowers to bloom and the desert was in full flower. I have visited the desert probably at least eight or ten times in the past and never timed it to see this amazing sight.

Claret Cup Cactus

Beavertail Cactus

So in spite of several challenges before the trip commenced that threatened to postpone or completely derail it, we persevered and experienced one of those trips that will remain in our memories and hearts forever. Just having hours together to talk and listen to each other, to get to know each other as women, as equals, as friends was an enormous gift. All the beauty we experienced was just gravy!

Walking in the Wild World

This morning, after days of rain, I woke up to sunshine. Always such a gift and great way to start the day and week! This time of year it’s hard to say how long sun and blue skies will last, so it’s always wise to “seize the moment” and walk Charlie while it’s dry.

We headed out little earlier than we normally do. It was still quite chilly, but the sun always makes it seem warmer to me. I grew up in desert country so cold and sunny is my preference for winter weather.  We drove to our favorite walk along the Clackamas River, just a couple miles away. 

As we stepped down onto the trail I noticed a robin sitting in some of the low underbrush close to the trail. But as I got closer and watched it flit from branch to branch, I realized it wasn’t a robin at all; it was a rufous-sided towhee. They aren’t particularly rare in the Northwest, but I’ve really only ever seen a handful of them.  Often I think when we see them, unless we look closely, we assume they are robins because at first glance they look similar, though towhees are a bit smaller and darker, have more white on their wings and body and, if you get close enough, they have striking reddish eyes.

Later as Charlie and I walked I heard birdsong that sounded like meadowlarks, though not the complete long and trilling call they make. I love the call of meadowlarks – it reminds me of summer pastures and fields from my younger days. And it is a beautiful, melodic call. It seemed too early in the season for meadowlarks, and I’ve never seen or heard them around the area where we walk. There are killdeer nearby – I’ve heard their distinctive cry often, and plenty of other field and farm birds, but I’ve never experienced meadowlarks here.  Besides, this song was coming from the top of one of the cottonwood trees. Meadowlarks might sit on a wire and sing, but often they are down in the grass. 

As I drew closer, I realized the song was coming from three starlings sitting in the cottonwood. I’ve heard them mimic red-winged blackbirds, another bird song that I love, but never a meadowlark. I was disappointed and felt misled. But the more I thought about it, the more I had to admire the skill of the starlings.

I mused a little about this mistaken identity – of both the towhee and the starlings --  acknowledging that I had mistakenly believed one thing to be true based on my expectations and filters.  It got me to thinking about how often I see or experience what I THINK is reality but it is only my perception. If I accept my assumptions without investigating and finding what is authentically real, it can lead to some unpleasant consequences.  I know that I have often judged people – and felt judged by them – based on knee-jerk reactions and misperceptions.  It takes time and patience and the willingness to stay open and  admit we might not really know everything to find truth. 

How often, I wondered to myself, do I go through life making decisions based on my ingrained beliefs, my perceptions of reality, rather than what actually IS? Often those perceptions have been passed along to me by someone I assumed actually knew the truth, and I accepted them as my own beliefs without question. It’s easy for me to recognize (okay, let’s be honest: the right word is JUDGE) when others seem to do that but not always easy to see it in myself.

The other realization that occurred to me after the walk is how often do I, like the starlings, sing someone else’s song because I think it’s more beautiful than my own natural, God-given voice? Or probably more accurately, because I think it’s more acceptable to others?  Maybe it sounds good, but it’s just not the real thing, and I need to learn to love my own true, real voice enough that I am not afraid to sing out proudly and not care what anyone else thinks.  

With the encouragement of a good friend today, I think it’s time for my voice to come out in stories . . . it’s time to pull out some of those half-done novels, finish them up, or start a new one. Because really, storytelling is what I truly want to do, what I've always wanted to do.  Sometimes all it takes is one person to listen to your song and believe in you.  Thanks, Mary!

Thinking About Spring Cleaning with a Little Help from my Friend

The last two Saturdays I have attended spirituality groups during which we were asked to reflect on Jesus. Last Saturday it was on Mark’s description in 8:29 of Jesus asking his disciples “Who do YOU say that I am?”  That actually led me on a mental journey of what it means to leave all behind and follow Jesus.  This morning’s reflection was specifically on the questions of what it means to follow Jesus and what keeps us from doing so fully. Interesting how these themes seem to really be something I need to focus on. Part of the presentation included the text from Revelation 3:20:  “Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends.’ (New Living Translation). The presenter reminded us all we have to say is ‘yes.’ This was an opportunity to revisit my reflections from the previous week and add to them a little. 

So who do I say Jesus is? My answer was, and is, Jesus is the human manifestation of the Great Lover; the one who came to show us how to love as God loves, to show us it IS possible for humans to move beyond our ego-consciousness, our emptiness, and love unconditionally. 

Then reflecting on leaving all behind to follow Jesus, I realized I, at least, don’t often include my scars and wounds, my painful history in this list of what needs to get left behind.  I need to leave all my negative experiences, hurts, complexes, all the old filters life has taught me to look through. I need to learn to drop off those expectations, judgments of myself and others, those comparisons where my ego tries to make me look better or find excuses for why I don’t measure up to others.

I need to leave behind those memories of the past and worries about the future that keep me from living in the present, for it is only in the present that we find God. I need to leave behind my goals to be holy, a hero for God, to be special, to be someone of value and importance because . . . I already am. I already matter. That’s one of the things Jesus came to remind us of.

So what does it mean to me to follow Jesus? First, it means to accept love, to know how deeply held I am in God’s heart, but also how deeply held ALL of creation is. We are all unique and special; no one is loved more than you and I. Not Thomas Merton, or Mother Teresa, John of the Cross or Richard Rohr. No matter how loved and respected and honored they are by other humans, they are not loved by God any more greatly than you and I are loved.  And no one is loved less. God is all about boundless love. Jesus did not perceive his inherent value by how he was treated (loved and followed or betrayed and brutalized) by other humans. I want to know that deep sense of being beloved and the peace that comes with it. 

Following Jesus means seeing all of creation through eyes of love, for God and with God. 

Following Jesus could mean doing something big and difficult, or it could mean doing something small and obscure and ordinary. Being a hero for God is all about ego and pride, which is not of God.  Nor are fears and guilt and self-judgment.

Following Jesus means learning all over again, step by step, how to see truly. It means letting go of everything I ever believed and thought was right. It means turning off the cultural, commercial clutter and getting back to simple, clear truths.  It means finding my heart, my longing, discerning and trusting my truth.

When thinking about opening the door at Jesus’ knock, I found myself worried that I might be so busy and life was so noisy I wouldn’t hear the knock. Or, more likely, when Jesus knocks the house would be a mess and I’d have nothing to feed Jesus so I would be embarrassed to open the door. Then I remembered what my husband John used to say when I worried about the condition of the house if company dropped by. “They didn’t come here to see the house; they’re here to see you.” I pictured me opening the door at Jesus’ knock and saying, “I’d love to have you come in and have dinner with me but the house is a disaster and I’m afraid I haven’t been to the store and have nothing ready or even anything to fix.” Jesus smiles and says,  “I just want to be with you. Why don’t I come in and help you clean, and then we’ll cook together.” This makes me smile. I open the door and welcome him in.  I’m still a little embarrassed, but I’m also very touched that he loves me enough to overlook my faults.

In dream imagery, houses represent ourselves, our self-image, our psyche. So I’m thinking Jesus is ready and willing to help me clean up all those old messy mental things that no longer have a place in my life, all those things mentioned above that I need to learn to leave behind to lighten the load enough to follow him. It truly is only by getting rid of some of that junk that I can be free enough to give up some of the other things that might be necessary to truly follow Jesus.  But cleaning the house is where I need to start.  And I think Jesus is really willing, anxious even, to help me get started with that spring cleaning. 

Then when it’s done we’ll cook a great feast, or at least break bread (gluten-free, for me please) and share some wine. We’ll relax and laugh and just enjoy each others’ company. Because I think that’s really what prayer is all about.

No Stingy God

The love and wisdom of friends can help you stretch and become bigger

I’ve been working on filing today – every year I promise myself I’m going to start out at the beginning of the year and keep it current. I still haven’t gotten there.  I’m now playing “catch up” and have been working on my 2011 paper filing so I can put together all my records and prepare to file my 2011 taxes. 

In a way it’s kind of nice to spend a few days going through the year before, kind of a way of remembering accomplishments.  In my box of  “to be filed” are all the financial records and receipts, of course. All those places I spent my money; it’s always a shock how much I spent on frivolous meals out with friends or my children (more on that “frivolous” judgment later). But there’s a lot of other stuff mixed in that I thought needed to be saved at the time. Needless to say, the paper recycling bag is very full.  But I’m also finding notes to myself about marketing the books, various reflections I’ve written or quotations I want to save, and notes and cards from friends that came throughout last year.  Those have been a wonderful gift to reread as I’ve been struggling with some things lately.

On Saturday afternoon, for no apparent reason, I received a card from a woman I’ve known since our children were in kindergarten together. We don’t see each other very often these days because she is incredibly involved and busy.  She’s a few years younger than me and is deeply immersed in her professional career but also generously gives her time in many ways and places.  All the more reason for me to be deeply touched that she would take the time and effort to send me a card in the mail, a treat that is becoming more and more rare in our electronic world. The card was very simple and the note even simpler: “Just wanted to say I love you. That's it. That’s all.”  Really . . . what else is there to say that could possibly be more important? It IS that simple. To know we are loved. For no reason whatsoever except that we exist by virtue of God’s grace and, yes, God’s love.

But it started me thinking about some of my wonderful friends who have been very supportive of me, often in very quiet, subtle ways. It isn’t possible to always be a perfect friend; I know how many times I’ve failed at being a thoughtful, loving, forgiving, accepting friend, mother, sister.  But I hope there have been a few times when something I’ve said or done has helped lift someone out of an emotional slump as her card did for me Saturday. I received her card after conversations with several other good friends that morning at a woman’s spirituality group I belong to. They also knew just the right things to say to remind me how blessed I am.  In spite of hurts and doubts.  Even as they face their own struggles and challenges, these kind women have been able to reach out to prop me up in a difficult time. 

One of the little scraps of paper I had saved in my filing box simply reads: “Given without reserve, beyond measure; this is no stingy God.”  I have no idea where I read or heard that, possibly one of my Richard Rohr daily meditation quotes, or from one of his books or talks. It sounds a little like what Richard Rohr might say.  But it also sounds like something just about any mystic would say: that we have a tendency to forget how boundlessly generous and loving our God is. In everything. The point is, though, that I was touched enough to write it down so that I could rediscover it, possibly on a day when it might be a good reminder to me that gifts are everywhere.

I am not rich or famous and I’m pretty sure I never will be. But I am incredibly rich in good friends; God has truly blessed me, without reserve, beyond measure, when it comes to having wonderful people in my life. And the fact that they love me even when I let them down, am thoughtless or small or petty continues to amaze and mystify me.

In reflecting on the times friends have reached out to me, often even unasked for, I realize that true friends are like stars that shine out to help us find our path when we are lost in our dark nights of the soul. Their beauty is celestial, mysterious, awe-inspiring, hopeful. And I realize that time spent with these grace-filled people, a few dollars here or there to have lunch or coffee or dinner with them, is far from a frivolous waste of time and money. It is one of the most important investments I can make because these are the people who truly teach me to love and allow me to accept love. They truly help me see the face of God.

And now, back to the filing. I wonder what other little gifts and graces I’ll find in my filing box!!

Playing to Lose

Today I was killing a little time while waiting for a phone call, playing Spider Solitaire. The single suit is pretty easy to win, but playing with two suits is much more challenging for me and can be so frustrating; it’s much rarer for me to win. All four suits is a lost cause for me.  You work hard to get a suit of cards lined up in order and all you need is one more card to complete that row, but you’re out of plays so you have to go to the pile and deal out another set of cards. Inevitably you’ll end up with a king now burying your almost-completed string of cards or see something you could have used to make some great progress if you hadn’t made a move or overlooked a play before this last deal. 

I’m realizing how much like life that is. You lay out your plans so carefully, know exactly what cards you need and how they will all fit together. You think you’re getting close to having it all work out and . . . wham!! Life deals you something that totally messes everything up.  Sometimes the cards are such a mess in Solitaire you just have to resign.  And sometimes in life the cards that get suddenly dumped on you create such a mess, destroying all your plans, that all you can do is . . . let it go. Accept it.  It’s not that the forced changes to all your planning are a disaster; it’s just that you feel angry and frustrated because you felt SO CLOSE to winning. And it was all snatched away from you so quickly. You have to start all over again and hope for a better outcome. 

I’ve have a couple of those “bad deals” the last couple of weeks that set me back on my heels, made me question everything I’ve been doing over the past several years. It felt like hiking in the woods and suddenly having your path disappear into blackberries, hawthorn and nettles – all very thorny, potentially painful barriers. 

Just because you can't see the end of the road doesn't mean you're lost

In my frustration and hurt -- and being Irish -- I lashed out a little at the two friends who, I believed, had dealt me those cards. In an email I outlined how hurt I had felt by the way I perceived they had treated me, how betrayed I felt by people I loved and trusted and thought were my friends. I figured between our original interaction that had so upset me and my subsequent defensive email that our relationship was a lost cause. It made me sad but I was feeling defiant and hard-hearted. In fact, my heart felt completely frozen; I couldn’t even pray about it.  I was pretty ticked off at God, too, whom I blamed for putting me on a path that seemed only to lead to a dead end. Anger and pride will do that to you.

And then another mutual friend whom I had sought counsel from reminded me of some truths in my life, including the fact that both these friends do love me and would never, ever hurt me intentionally. Through her gentle, loving message and kind words, I realized maybe it was my own lack of wisdom, my inadequate skill at handling the cards dealt to me that caused the pain, rather than my friends. It was my perspective, tainted by a lifetime of fear that I will always fall short, that I will never quite be good enough. In spite of years of work, my fallback position seems to be the belief that I can only be loved if I earn it through my own behavior. Sometimes it seems I look for reasons to believe that and blame others for not loving me when, in fact, it is me who fails to be loving and compassionate to myself. 

My friends showed me a different path and, for me, it was a clear experience of people modeling Christ. One of my friends immediately sent back an absolutely accepting, kind and loving response to my email that overwhelmed me, made me cry, and thawed out my heart.

After sitting with this for a few hours, I realized it was I who was being unkind and judgmental; I was at fault in this situation, and I sent an apology email.  Both my friends responded with understanding, forgiveness, kindness, love and acceptance rather than anger or defensiveness. For me this love is otherworldly. It’s how I want to learn to love. It’s how God loves us all, and I continue to try to understand and accept that kind of love. It’s rare to find in other people, and I am incredibly blessed to have a number of friends who know how to love like that. 

Hold onto your loving friends with both hands

And as for my path, I realize this was a correction. I obviously had taken a wrong turn along the way, and by walking through those brambles, even though they are painful and it will be hard work, I think I can reconnect to my right path.  Hopefully I have learned some important truths about myself and my friends and learned to trust a little more, learned to love a little better. 

Maybe also I could spend my time on pursuits that are a little more fruitful and less frustrating than Solitaire. On the other hand, maybe it’s good practice in accepting defeat, realizing how little control we have over the deal, and letting go of the need to win.

Sometimes You Need the Freedom to Leave the Flock

 

Today while walking I stopped and watched a flock of wild geese, as I often do whenever I hear their cries overhead.  I’ve recently shared in this blog the experience of watching two large flocks come together seamlessly and merge into one. A number of metaphors could be extracted from that: cooperation, giving ground for others, making room by letting go of your own agenda and working together so that a greater goal can be achieved. But there’s also the idea of union, bringing many parts together and understanding and accepting that we’re all in this together, part of a much larger story, and that we all have very similar goals and longings, at the heart of the matter, that we're here to help and support each other, not see who can get there first. 

Today’s message was a little different. The flock of about 16 geese was heading south when a group of four broke off and flew more westerly.  Based on my experiences and observations, adult Canada geese are almost always found in even numbers: pairs, quartets, etc. This is because these geese mate for life so they very often have a partner, and they tend to be quite social, enjoying the company of each other. (Apparently the only time geese prefer a little more separation is while they are nesting. During this time the male remains with the female and stands guard as she keeps the eggs warm.) But Canada geese also feel very free to leave or join a flock as their needs require.  They don’t seem to feel constrained by any expectations of the other geese to remain faithful to one flock, only to one mate.  They don’t feel guilty for leaving and the other geese don’t seem to care. They don’t fight about which river to fly to or which field they are going to feed in. They just go where it is best for them – as couples -- and let the other geese choose what is best for themselves.  No expectations, no recriminations, no guilt. 

Apparently Canada geese don’t form attachments to one group as we humans so often do, feeling it necessary to defend our group as the best one to belong, the only right flock. Until our own beliefs trap us with a group that no longer fits, that doesn’t meet our needs.  Since we’ve convinced ourselves – and tried to convince others – that this is the right group, how do we ever leave it?

Last week I had a couple of experiences that reminded me I have to be careful about getting trapped by attachments that aren’t life-giving for me. I need to remember to set boundaries for myself that allow me the freedom to be me, to do what is best for me, rather than to do things because I think they are what others expect or want from me. I need to live out of that freedom, not some old story that tells me how things “should” be or what someone else thinks is the right place for me to be, or the right thing for me to do. No one can tell me that; I have to find what is right for me in my own heart. What others expect or demand from me is about their needs and wants; and if I do not meet them, it is their problem to deal with, not my problem to fix.

Letting go of my need for acceptance and approval and admiration – which equals love in my old story line – is incredibly difficult. I don’t think I can do it alone; in fact, I’m sure I can’t. But until I am able to find that place of self-acceptance, only with God’s help, I will continue to be hurt when others treat me without love and kindness and respect, when others judge me or question who I am. Until I truly accept my worth and that I am loved without the need to prove it, detaching from others’ expectations and judgments will be like trying to stop the waves from rolling in, the wind from blowing, the sun from rising. I will truly find it impossible to be compassionate and loving to myself, honoring my authentic self, my deepest longings.

And until I accept the promise of unconditional love from God, “pressed down, shaken together and running over, poured into [my] hands (Luke 6:38),” I will have a hard time giving up my own judgments, comparisons, expectations and learning to accept and love others unconditionally.

Sometimes honoring my true self, being compassionate, means leaving certain flocks that have ceased to help me on my journey but, rather, hold me back because of their demands that I fit in with their expectations, meet their needs, and keep my thoughts and opinions and wisdom to myself. I am taking a large step back from the parish I have belonged to for 29 years. It feels like a separation from a marriage that has become dysfunctional and void of love and consideration. It is possible that this will lead to a decision to let  go of a life-long connection to the Roman Catholic Church, which continues to limit the voices and views it allows to only a certain few: those who fit in with the right rules, the right sex, the right life-style. 

Perhaps, like wild geese, this is just a time out, time to continue to care for myself, hatch and nurture the new me that has been coming forth from the shadows. Perhaps I will learn to detach emotionally enough that I can let go of the dismissals, the rejections. Perhaps I can continue to grow stronger in the knowledge of God's love so that I can eventually let go of the need for approval from others, especially where I have always sought it and seldom received it, and at least return for the liturgies and sacraments that have continued to feed my soul, some of the people who have brought me joy and laughter and love. Perhaps this "marriage" can be saved. But perhaps not, and I have to be willing to let it go.

If so, will I find another flock, one that better fits with the person I have become after years of intensive prayer, study, reflection? I can only trust that this new journey I am setting out on will be life-giving and that I will find the right guides to help me find my way, wherever that may lead. 

Life as Metaphor

As I grow in experience, age, and – hopefully – wisdom, I find more and more often that if I keep my eyes open and pay attention,  valuable lessons and metaphors are all around me.

This morning I took Charlie for a walk along the Clackamas River. We’d just been there last week, Monday or Tuesday. There were plenty of rocky beaches exposed and the water was fairly calm. Today it was a completely different story.  I was . . . flabbergasted is the best word I can come up with . . . at how much water was in the river and the lagoon Charlie often likes to wade and swim in. 

The river was twice as wide as the last time I’d seen it; the lagoon much bigger and deeper. Those rocky banks were completely covered in several feet of murky water. In fact, the areas just a few feet below the paved path looked liked swamps: the alder, maple and cottonwoods looked more like cypress wading knee-deep in water.  The little area where we usually walk down to the lagoon was completely gone. The ramp to the Sheriff’s boathouse and dock is normally a steep decline; today it was almost level.  And it happened so quickly!

As I walked along pondering these huge changes, I thought about how the landscapes of our lives can completely change overnight.  Losses or disasters, accidents or illnesses, even unexpected blessings and graces and insights can completely change our views.  Often these can be very painful and difficult and we long to go back to normality, to what we’ve always known and been comfortable with. But these experiences often have the potential to broaden us, deepen us, carry us beyond our normal channels of life, of thinking, and give us a kind of  unexpected freedom.  Like the rain-swollen rivers, we can become filled to overflowing with compassion, understanding, love, wisdom and a desire to make a difference, or at least be different.

Usually, like the floods, these feelings and changes are temporary, and eventually we recede back into the well-known paths, the accepted comfort zones for us. But sometimes the experience of flowing beyond our banks, being freed to be a little wider, a little wilder, a little outside the expectations of family, friends and society, can lead us to flow through new channels, follow new paths. I’ve been reading “Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life” by Fr. Richard Rohr.  He talks about great suffering and great love as the two main portals to the second half of life, one of wisdom, love and union with God and all of creation.  This is a journey that is ongoing and takes great courage but holds the potential for becoming fully the people God created us to be.  It’s a great book, very thought-provoking and wise. 

Another recent experience I had presented more metaphors from nature. I’ve likely mentioned before that birds seems to me to be special messengers. I have a particular affection for Canada geese; I use a sketch of one on my logo for Gray Wings Press. I can’t recall when I first felt this connection to Canada Geese – possibly when John and I, fairly recently married, moved to a small farm near the Ridgefield, Washington, wildlife refuge and regularly experienced huge flocks of geese flying overhead. But perhaps this connection goes back much further. 

A little over a week ago I was driving north on I-205, bound for an interview regarding my next book. Just after I crossed over the I-205 bridge spanning the Columbia River I spotted a flock of geese – probably 15 or so – heading west. As I watched them I saw another flock of about the same size heading east. The two flocks were flying directly towards each other, like two spears poised to strike together.  I held my breath and watched in fear and awe, believing they were going to crash together, fight to hold their position, their “sky space,” and that geese would be injured and killed in the coming together. 

But I was wrong.  As I watched, the most amazing thing happened. The flocks of geese did, in fact, come together, but they meshed seamlessly – as skillfully as a well-practiced drill team -- and formed one larger flock. In the process of this maneuver, the flock turned south and flew towards the river.  I gasped, in relief but also amazement. I believed I had received an amazing gift in viewing this cooperation.  As I continued my trip north, I thought about how many times humans hold so fast to our beliefs, our positions, our possessions, our self-righteousness that we aren’t able to even see the possibility that we might all be going in the same direction. We can’t give up an inch of our space, our stuff, our beliefs in order to help each other and work together to arrive safely at our journey’s end. A journey that we really all are on and that well might be much more enjoyable and productive if we worked together instead of gritting our teeth and flying forward headlong, giving no quarter to our supposed enemies. And these are geese! Clearly much wiser than many humans. No wonder I think of them as special messengers.

So keep your eyes and hearts open to the messages the world sends you through nature. You might see or hear just exactly the message your soul needs today.