Tags
A Deep Breath of Life, Alan Cohen, calendar, mindfulness, present, present moment, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, time
When thinking about the necessities of life lately, the first thing on my list is my calendar. I used to be able to keep track of a month’s activities so I would be where I was supposed to be, doing what I was supposed to do, only checking my calendar rarely for exactitude. Granted, that was when I was teaching high school and living a relatively stable routine. Now my activities vary so much from day to day that I sometimes am not sure what the day will bring until I look at my calendar for a reminder and sometimes I’m looking just to see what day of the week today is! I use the excuse that my activities are much more varied these days and that there is lots more “stuff” crowding my brain. While this is true, I suppose it has something to do with the aging process as well. Today I’m considering this situation as a call to live in the present moment.
Alan Cohen has reminded me of the value of this kind of thinking in an anonymous quote for today from his book, A Deep Breath of Life. He writes: The past is a canceled check, the future is a promissory note and the present is cash in hand. So with my bankroll of 16 hours or so in my pocket before I go to sleep again, I hope to set forth mindfully and treat each moment of this sunny day as priceless.
I sit this morning in the quiet moment where nothing stirs except the very energetic birds and where the light came as quickly just now as if someone had flipped a switch to begin the day. Everything is still outside while in my head the thoughts and plans that woke me at 4:30 begin to dissipate so I can notice and embrace the silence…
During last evening’s gathering of “No Ordinary Women” (named for the book No Ordinary Time by Jan Phillips) we recognized that each of us, in looking back over our lives, had evolved in ways we had not foreseen our early years. It’s always interesting to ask children the question: “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Usually, the younger the child, the more fanciful the response – and it rarely touches on what really happens as they mature. Only one of us touched on what would be an answer to that question, i.e. career or profession, but we all agreed that we had evolved personally in ways we might not have expected as we walked our life path. Life has a way of forming us through events and relationships that sometimes seem random but can be quite formative as we live into and then reflect on them and their impact on us. For example, I thought I would be a high school French teacher all my working life. At this point, I have not lived that role since 33 years ago and have worn six different hats since I left that first position!
As often happens lately on Friday mornings, I sit down to write and wonder where the week went. Time seems to pass more quickly as we get older. People have told me that for years and I accepted it but now I know it from the inside. As a consequence of that thought, next comes a wondering about the stretch of life before me. How long will I be here? What will be my experiences, accomplishments, abilities? Will I maintain the health I have been blessed with? How will I face the end of my life?
It’s clear to everyone in the United States of America – and beyond – that things will be changing for us very soon. It’s difficult to be sure of what form those changes will take but change there will undoubtedly be. I’ve spoken before about possible reactions and responses to change. This morning I was again thrust into that reflection by the final verses of Psalm 98, presented in a lyrical way by the following translation.
As I read today’s lectionary texts, I am struck once again with the necessity of living every moment to the fullest without grasping at the past or the future – which I no longer have or do not yet have (and maybe never will, who knows?). This is not a new theme but as I write I am hearing in my head some lines of a song by Greg Greenway, a wonderful musician and poet. The refrain goes like this: This is the light I carry. Tonight is a celebration. Have no complaints, sinners and saints, under the bright constellations…The hymnal’s wide open at the Church of What Is; let’s sing!
Now that the Olympics are over I will have to find that good “brotherly [& sisterly] love” feeling in another way. I doubt I will find it on television where political messages will be flooding the airwaves in earnest for the next few months. I will be worrying about that, having just read an article about how many people now take in what they hear without reflecting on the validity of the message. Some wild claims will be made that ought to be followed up with references but probably won’t. As I finished the article, my eyes fell (honestly!) on the book Silence by Robert Sardello, which I picked up looking for solace. I read the following that is for me a good reason to return to silence as often as possible today to find out what I’m thinking, where it comes from, and how I feel about it. Just maybe it will also allow me to come back to trusting in a deeper way that God is in charge of the world.
