No Wrong Place

It’s amazing to me how often – if we pay attention and look for it – we find inspiration. I have often written about finding it in nature when I take Charlie on his walks. This morning I found it checking Facebook. Some of my friends post quotes from time to time and I have a growing collection of beautiful quotes that some day I really will have to organize in some fashion.

This morning’s offering came from my friend, Laurie, in Denver. Laurie and I have never met; we’re Facebook friends through a mutual friend. In fact, several of my Facebook friends, including Laurie, were as a result of my connection to Sherold, who is one of the authors in “Real Women, Real Wisdom.” And Sherold is my friend through Marilyn – also one of the contributors to the book and who, coincidentally, grew up in the Denver area. I’ve known Marilyn for a number of years, though we’ve really only become very close over the last few years. She has been an amazing gift in my life. Just sort of an example of how interconnected we all are, or can be if we want connection. I personally think connections with good people, as well as with nature and the world, are critical for our journeys.

The Zen quote Laurie posted this morning actually supports this: “No snowflake ever falls in the wrong place.” (Zen Wisdom)

In a conversation with a friend late last week, I shared my belief that things happen the way they do for a reason. As I wrote in “42 States of Grace,” I don’t believe God orchestrates our lives or creates crises. It’s a natural, physical, real world and things happen. But I do believe God is there holding us as we cry, and crying with us in our pain. I also believe God can use anything and everything as an instrument to open our hearts, make us more loving and compassionate. More connected to all of creation. God can even use Facebook.

For me, the lesson in this quote is: right now, at this present moment, you – like the snowflake -- are exactly where you are supposed to be. And right now, in this present moment, is where God can be found. In spiritual circles, this is called “the sacrament of the present moment.”

I’ve been reading more of Richard Rohr this week and he often talks about the need to lose ourselves, our egocentricity, our need to control, be noticed and be special. Jesus said that “unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat.” (John 12:24). The truth is, there is very little we have control over, and letting go of that illusion is very freeing. We are unique and special and noticed, just by virtue of being children of God, but we don’t trust the truth of that. If we cannot believe in our own inherent value, it will be very difficult to believe in the inherent value of all others of creation, including a single snowflake. And it will be impossible for us to let go of our need for individualism, for ego gratification, which keeps us separate, rather than connected.

So, back to the snowflakes. Another quote Laurie posted (I think it may be snowing in Denver): “A snowflake is one of the most fragile creations, but look what they can do when they stick together!” (Unknown) They can create beauty, but they can also create chaos. Alone they are unique and beautiful but will quickly melt away. They have to give up some of that individuality and join with many others to have a lasting impact. In the same way, we are called to give up many of our individual ego needs and become united, at one with creation.



So my Christmas prayer for you is that you take each moment as a gift, know that God is in that moment. Taking time to spend with loved ones, giving gifts of yourself, being present to each other is much more important than serving a perfect Christmas dinner, or having the presents wrapped and under the tree exactly by 10 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Let go of others’ expectations of you and see yourself and them as inherently beautiful and beloved, just as you are.

And if you are blessed with a white Christmas, remember you, like each snowflake, are exactly where you are supposed to be right now, at this present moment, creating beauty by just being you.

A Dance of Freedom

We’ve had a pretty amazing run of weather for December in Portland. It’s barely rained at all. We’ve had some foggy, cloudy days, and some unusually cold weather. But the foggy days have been sprinkled here and there with one or two or sometimes even three days of bright, crisp weather with clear blue skies and sunshine that warms through the chilly temperatures. It’s been the kind of weather I grew up with in Central Washington, the kind of days I experienced last January in Albuquerque. The gray foggy days make me appreciate so much the bright days and how energized I am when the bright sun is again part of my life.

Charlie has loved this weather because it means he gets longer walks. Even as Charlie gets old and slows down, he still becomes full of life and almost puppyish when I put his harness on and he gets to get in the car. It’s well known that dogs’ lives are measured in sevens: one year of dog life equals seven human years. But that’s more of an average. The larger breeds have much shorter lifespans and so their years are more like eight or even nine human years. That puts Charlie, who will be 10 in April, at around 70 or possibly closer to 80 in human terms. It’s reassuring that, even at his age, he can be so enthusiastic and joyful. He loves to run and explore when I take him off-leash, and today we walked our favorite walk near the river so he got to go wading chest-deep. No matter how cold it is out, he still loves getting wet.

I’ve written before about leaves falling. For some reason they capture my imagination this time of year. There are very few left on the cottonwoods, alders and poplars along the river but those that are left seem to be clinging tightly, perhaps struggling with the decision of whether to hold on or let go. Last week while walking in the sun, there was a light breeze and occasionally a leaf would come drifting, dancing down. They reminded me of princesses waving from a parade float: all fluttering, flittering, spinning and swirling. And they seemed joyful, too, like Charlie being off-leash.

It was like they had finally been able to come to terms with whatever fears or reluctance had kept them tied to the tree, shackled, and they were finally able to let go of the fears of falling. It felt as though, as I watched them drift down, that they called to me: You, too, can let go of your fears, let go of judgments and criticisms and comparisons, let go of what others expect of you. Come join us, dance with us, let go of your ties and shackles and flow into the currents of life and find your true destiny.

As I look at the naked trees this time of year, I see the stark beauty revealed that is hidden when the leaves cover up the branches.

And so, as Advent progresses towards Christmas and another year draws to a close, I continue to find myself longing for freedom, the freedom to let go of all attachments and dance like a leaf on the currents of God’s grace.