Reflection for June 17, 2009

Reflection for June 10, 2009

I'M LISTENING

 

I’m listening yet I don’t know

If what I hear is silence

or God.

 

I’m listening but I can’t tell

If I hear the plane of emptiness echoing

Or a keen consciousness that

At the bounds of the universe

Deciphers and watches me.

 

I only know that I walk like someone

Beheld, beloved and known

And because of this I put into my every moment

Solemnity and risk.

 

                Sophia de Mello-Breyner

                Translated from the Portugese

                        by Lisa Sapinkophf

Reflection for June 3, 2009

Light Blue Memories

O exiles of the mountain of oblivion!

O the jewels of your names, slumbering in the mire of silence

O your obliterated memories, your light blue memories

In the silty mind of a wave in the sea of forgetting

Where is the clear, flowing stream of your thoughts?

Which thieving hand plundered the pure golden statue

of your dreams?

In this storm which gives birth to oppression

Where has your ship, your serene silver mooncraft gone?

After this bitter cold which gives birth to death -

If the sea should fall calm

If the cloud should release the hearts knotted sorrows

If the maiden of moonlight should bring love, offer a smile

If the mountain should soften its heart, adorn itself with green,

become fruitful -

Will one of your names, above the peaks,

become bright as the sun?

Will the rise of your memories

Your light blue memories

In the eyes of fishes weary of floodwaters and

fearful of the rain of oppression

become a reflection of hope?

O, exiles of the mountain of oblivion! 

- by Nadia Anjuman, November / December 2001

 Translated from Farsi by Zuzanna Olszewska and Belgheis Alavi

Afghanistan Poet - Nadia Anjuman (1980 - 2005)

In 2005, when she was twenty five years old, Nadia Anjuman published her first collection of poetry, Gol-e Dudi (Smokey Flower) to great acclaim. She was hailed for introducing a fresh language and youthful point of view into Dari poetry. Soon after the book's publication, however, Anjuman was beaten to death. Many Afghanis believe that Anjuman was killed by her own husband and his family for the transgression of writing.  

Reflection for May 27, 2009

A Blessing for Equilibrium – John O’Donoghue

Like the joy of the sea coming home to shore,

May the music of laughter break through the soul.

 

As the wind wants to make everything dance,

May gravity be lightened by grace.

 

Like the freedom of the monastery bell,

May clarity of mind make your eyes smile.

 

As water takes whatever shape it is in,

So free may you be about who you become.

 

As silence smiles on the other side of what’s said,

May a sense of irony give you perspective.

 

As time remains free of all that frames it,

May fear and worry never put you in chains.

 

May your prayer of listening deepen enough

To hear in the distance the laughter of God.

Reflection for May 20, 2009

From each moment 

I draw life.

From each living being I draw love.

From the earth and 

the sun 

I draw nourishment.

From each I receive and to each 

I joyfully give,

From the web that connects each 

to me.

Weaves its tapestry throughout my being,

Uniting me with all.

Today I bring the spirit of Joy to...

     from the Essene Book of Days

                            - Danaan Parr

Reflection for May 13, 2009

A woman's issues of soul cannot be treated by carving her into a more acceptable form as defined by an unconscious culture, nor can she be bent into a more intellectually acceptable shape by those who claim to be the sole bearer's consciousness.  No, that is what has already caused millions of women who began as strong and natural powers to become outsiders in their own cultures.  Instead, the goal must be the retrieval and succor of women's beauteous and natural psychic form.  ...

[The Wild Woman] comes to us ... through music which vibrates the sternum, excites the heart; it comes through the drum, the whistle, the call, and the cry.  It comes through the written and spoken words; sometimes a word, a sentence or a poem or a story, is so resonant, so right, it causes us to remember, at least for an instant, what substance we are really made from, and where is our true home.  ...

The Wild Woman carries the bundles for healing; she carries everything a woman needs to be and know.  She carries the medicine for all things.  She carries stories and dreams and words and songs and signs and symbols.  She is both vehicle and destination. …

To adjoin the instinctual nature … means to establish territory, to find one’s pack, to be in one’s body with certainty and pride regardless of the body’s gifts and limitations, to speak and act in one’s behalf, to be aware, alert, to draw on the innate feminine powers of intuition and sensing, to come into one’s cycles, to find what one belongs to, to rise with dignity, to retain as much consciousness as we can.

~~ Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype, by Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Ph.D.

 

When the Black Madonna holds a woman in her lap, “the woman will know that she can be who she is, think what she wants, and still be loved.”  ~~ Marion Woodman

Reflection for May 6, 2009

God Who Gives

God of Love and Life,

the patten of your  presence among us is clear enough.

You give and we receive.

You give with overwhelming generosity,

and we receive with our customary casualness.

You give more than we can ask or imagine,

and we receive sometimes in wonder.

You give us life and breath, and we receive.

You give  miracles of newness, and we receive.

You give rain and sunshine and food, and we receive.

You give yourself in prophetic voice,

and in the most unexpected holy people, and we receive.

You take and bless and break and give, and we receive.

But sometimes you challenge us in overwhelming mystery

     and awesome destruction.

The world  shakes on its foundations and we are terrified.

The waters move beyond their bounds and we feel engulfed.

The mountains crush the valleys

     and we cry from buried depths.

Do not, we pray, allow our hearts to go numb

     when this happens.

Do not, we beg, allow us to give in to a tempting paralysis.

Move us, in those times of dread,

to take our turn as the givers, so that all may find food and shelter and care

and nourishment.

Open our hearts to hear the cries of those who weep,

so that what we have received in abundance,

     may be passed on to all.

Help us, O God who is Love,

and O Love who is God,

to love even in our own faltering way.

God of Life and Love,

     the pattern of your presence among us is clear.

You give and we receive,

You challenge and we are afraid.

Be with us as we learn again to see you

     in the giving and receiving,

the generosity and the fear,

the alarm and the hope.

And let us learn to repeat with the psalmist:

        God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. 

        (Psalm 46:1)

(Julian of Norwich)

Praying with the Woman Mystics, Mary T. Malone