a prophetic voice-

Ah! My lovely white peony is at last losing its petals, the blooming far too brief, but perhaps more precious because of its brevity. The scattered petals stand in stark relief against the brown mulch, an offering of purity, a reminder of the fragility of life and the temporality of its gifts.  Reading about suffering this morning...the wise words of Sister Joan Chittister. Reflecting on the ability of suffering to either destroy us or to reshape us in ways which open us to compassion and possibility...about its ability to remind us that this, too, shall pass...that life is made of stages, seasons, ever-changing, on-going, a cycle of life that never remains the same.  and it came to pass... The Bible's "And it came to pass..." Elie Wiesel's "And yet..." the Tao's "Life IS life..." words of wisdom & comfort, all...     but we want things to be different     than they are...want assurances...                                   want

Good morning, dear ones far and near. Once again, the rains have watered the earth here in Carolina and the birds are joyously reaping the harvest of earthworms in my side yard. Earlier, a little wren sat on the branch just outside the window and serenaded me for precious moments. Now i hear him out on the rear deck, singing for all he's worth. The grass is green, green, green, and the world seems fresh and new, baptized by the refreshing nightime storms. And here i sit, reading, thinking about peace, presently reflected in the immediate world around me. Yet in the greater world, the world of which i am a part, as small as that is, of which we are all a part, peace seems only the glowing and unrealistic dream of Polyannas who refuse to admit how threatening the world really is...who are out of touch with life's realities and fears.  Well, count me among them...only i do not consider myself out of touch but rather only too aware of the fragility of life, of the daring it ta

Well, dear ones, i'm sitting in my living room chair once again, looking out at a gray and windy morning, contemplating the day ahead. This hasn't happened in some time and i'm thoroughly enjoying this quiet, unhurried time before the day actually "begins"...just reading and thinking and writing, easing into the day in a way which i find incredibly energizing and healing. Two of my favorite writers, Joan Chittister and Mark Nepo, accompany me, inspire me, prod me into thinking deeply...and across the room, a lovely white peony stands tall and straight, releasing a gentle fragrance into the room, the incense of holiness captured in this embodiment of beauty. Ahead lies a full day of appointments and tasks and even as i contemplate the hours, i rest in the many words of truth which have been entering into me, becoming part of me... opening me to seeing life through lenses of love, opening me to letting go of my need to plan and control, opening me to send love out i

Well, dear ones, i was greeted by the news this morning, upon awaking...Osama bin Laden was dead, killed in a firefight by Navy Seals, ending a 10-year hunt for the leader of al-Qaida, the man responsible for the Sept. 11 attacks in this country. And i must confess that my first thought was, "Thank God! Perhaps the war in Afghanistan will soon be over!" But hearing about the crowds of people gathering outside the White House, in New York City, to cheer and celebrate brought another emotion- overwhelming sadness. i know...this man was in many ways despicable...dubbed a "terrorist" by much of the world, responsible as he was for numerous acts which caused death and destruction. i know...and a piece of me understands. But a part of my heart was weeping for what seemed to me a loss of our humanity when we can cheer and celebrate the death of another human being. But even as i thought this, i harkened back to a conversation i had this past Friday evening with some dear

My dear sister, Susan, reminded me that today is ‘May Day’, recalling how, as children, we used to make little baskets, fill them with wild flowers- usually violets- and leave them on doorknobs in the neighbor-hood. Do children do that any more? And wouldn’t it be lovely if      they did? Wouldn’t  it be lovely if  we all                                     did? May Day!    (written in 2008) May Day! May Day! Planes targeting buildings    filled with ordinary    people doing ordinary                things... suicide bombers targeting    people they don't even    know in order to    lay claim to a heaven only reached                by the hell they create... a gun-wielding, mentally-ill    young man, acting out    of his pain and perverted    world-view, shooting    fellow-students, faculty,                 for reasons beyond reason... May Day! May Day! The world is going to hell    in a bushel basket-       fear runs rampant!       life is out of control!