As I ponder “What has surprised me?”, I think of my husband’s Uncle Herman who is now in hospice care… During our most recent visit he pretty much had just one response to everything he heard, which was “Wow!” If I ever come to a time in life where one word remains, I hope to be like Uncle Herman.This journaling image will also serve to remind me of a fairly recent Uncle Herman story. In the Dementia unit, he was given the task of opening the blinds every morning. No one, however, was allowed in the kitchen. Therein lie his dilemma… there were blinds in the kitchen. As he was opening them, he was caught by an attendant and without hesitation, Uncle Herman yelled out, “Surprise!”… yes, complete with jazz hands.
Continuing on with the Ignatian Spirituality examen questions…
What do you hope for, in your wildest dreams?
Have any of these day-dreams become “God-Dreams” — visions capable of releasing new energy in you, potentially changing the direction of your life? ~Margaret Silf, Ignatian Spirituality for Everyday Life
On a journey of creating images with Ignatian Spirituality examen questions…
“The greatest and most important problems of life are all in a certain sense insoluble… They can never be solved, but only outgrown…” ~Carl Gustav Jung
Grateful for the poetry of Joe Grant whose words so beautifully aligned with what was stirring in my soul this morning –https://engagedpresence.wordpress.com/2017/11/10/a-healing-season/
It happens frequently at the Grunewald Guild that we have folks stop by who once were part of the Guild in some way. Often they have friends or family along who look at the place with puzzled curiosity. I’ve been wondering… what is it that calls people back? It seems bigger than nostalgia.
That’s what I was pondering and journaling when I realized that the page was an unusually close reflection of the breakfast table at which I was sitting, a lovely table set for Jim and me by a dear friend.
pondering the mystery that somehow today, this day in between death and life, life is still…
“Break down in me the barricades of death / And tear the veil in two with your last breath.” ~from Malcolm Guite’s poem, Cleansing the Temple, https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2017/04/11/holy-week-tuesday-cleansing-the-temple-4/
I am fascinated by the concept of the veil, that thing that separates, being torn and revealing… I don’t know… the Christ mystery (?) that holds all things together in a different (unimaginable?) way.
And further, somehow Malcolm’s words “with your last breath” cause me to wonder about breath pointing us toward the practice of tearing the veil ~ not only “last” as in “final”… also last as in previous, the breath that just happened without any fanfare.
Mary Oliver writes, “Almost over night the honey locust trees have let down their many tassels of blossoms, small white flasks filled with the sweetest honey. I gather handfuls and, for a second hold them against my face. The fringes of paradise: summer on earth.”
Pondering the holding of questions before us, like Mary did with the honey locust blossoms, their curvaceous curiosity at the edges of vulnerable unknowing and something new being birthed.
“Can it be, God, that grace pierces as well as heals? Can your grace remind us who blithely go on while so many suffer, that even we are included in your embrace? Forgiven? And called to a new way?” ~Catherine Malotky
“Do you think there is anything not attached by its unbreakable cord to everything else?” ~Mary Oliver, Upstream
A new online journaling course for Lent has opened for registration – http://www.grunewaldguild.com/upcoming/journaling-upstream. I’m hoping to find some companions wanting to dwell in Mary Oliver’s words, hang out a bit online, and create some art with me.
Can we love in this very moment?