Filled with Gratitude After Being Stopped in my Tracks

 

Today is Thanksgiving, and it is also my 48th birthday.  I am thankful to be alive, to have my two cats and my husband.  I am grateful for my friends and family who sent me messages and texts throughout my illness.  I say thank you for the prayers, and all of the love expressed.  As the Christian year has entered into a time of Holy Darkness, and the calendar year 2020 comes to an end,  I am grateful for Allan's and my new home in the country.  My heart fills with an appreciation for the time Allan spent planting, building, and putting things together to bring beauty and comfort to it.  Allan sacrificed a planned butterfly trip to Texas and adjusted his work schedule to care for me during my illness.   There were just so many unknowns.  

On the evening of October 23rd, I found myself at urgent care because of excruciating pain.  Next came the emergency room on the morning of October 24th.  The throbbing in my legs continued to worsen.  The steroid and morphine shots were given at the ER relieved the pain somewhat.  The urgent care ruled out the flu and COVID, for which I was grateful.  However, this meant that the pain I experienced resulted from an unknown illness.  The virus persisted, confining me to bed.   I could barely walk, sit, or stand-up.  No matter what I did, pain shot through my legs.  I survived on steroids and muscle relaxants, barely making it from one dosage to the next.  During that first week, I could see no end in sight.  More tests done at my doctor's office revealed nothing.  

The steroid regimen reached its competition by the following Friday.  The excruciating pain continued, and extra-strength Tylenol provided me with respite allowing me to sleep.  However, before I would stop counting down the hours and minutes until the next pill, it would be several more days.  After ten days of being in bed, I started to sit-up and moved around some. The pain disappeared, leaving me exhausted. Only this past week have I been able to resume my outside walks, with my best day being a little over 7000 steps.  I feel ever so grateful for my physical health.  I cannot imagine what it is like to live with chronic pain every single day of one's life.  Some days, I wondered if I could even survive until the next day.  I never received any specific diagnosis.  Whatever caused the pain has been described only as an unknown virus.    

This excruciating pain stopped me dead in my tracks, clearing my calendar. I could not even sit up at my computer for virtual meetings.  As I have gained strength, having an empty calendar brought unexpected freedom.  Lying in bed revealed places where priorities to be changed.  Having time to reflect on 2020 has opened my heart and mind to new possibilities in 2021.  As the sunsets on activities and relationships needing to be set free, I enter the unknown not in fear but excited for a new birth.

Where are the seeds germinating in your heart and mind?  What desert are you crossing? 

"May your holy creative tension live within us" - © Alexander John Shaia - 2020

Perhaps this concept, "May your[referring to Mother, Father, Wisdom. Divine],holy creative tension live within us," is one of the lessons of this year of intersection between pandemic/political polarization/racism and dysfunctional religion.  

All of these experiences can be overwhelming to the point of paralysis and yet as the Benedictines espouse, "always we begin again." There is never a day or a time or a place where we cannot let go of old messages and behaviors on both an individual and collective level. However, it begins with each of us claiming not a job or a duty but accepting an invitation to join in this holy creative Sometimes the invitation is to listen outside of our belief system. This morning, I found comfort and peace in the service of Lauds and Mass streamed live by the Glastonbury Abbey in MA. 

 Do I share the theology of these monks? No, but I cannot draw strength from their unwavering commitment to their divine purpose and their practice of holy creative tension as they bring ancient liturgy to Facebook live.  

The monk who gave the homily this morning spoke of Jesus desiring us to view, "the law as tutor or as sign."  If I view  "the law as sign"  and I consider a piece of my call, to the let the holy creative tension of the Divine live within me, then perhaps I need to stop judging myself and others so harshly.  For it is only when we release the voices of judgment that the voices of guilt and shame can be silenced.  The destructive voices can be  replaced by an expansive space of primal energy, of creativity and of shalom.  It is in this expansive place, that we can experience the Divine, the Christ, the One Breath across time, space and gender.  These are earthly distinctions which can entangle us. May the law be our sign, our direction and not our hindrance.  May it be a law of love extending a climate of mercy speaking to the holy creative tension within one and all.  In the words of Alexander John Shaia, "May We All Be One." 

Moos: Keep Listening

"Moo" - I heard the cows from across the road say this morning as I sat outside and drank my coffee. A quick glance at the reasons why cows moo suggests that the primary reason was unhappiness.  However, cows are also complex social animals so we as humans cannot necessarily decipher all of their mooing.  This is how I have felt recently that I cannot decipher or understand all that is being said.  As an educated white woman living in the quiet of the country with a husband who is still working and a family that is healthy,  I am insulated from many of the world's ills. 

 I am grief-stricken, heart-broken and beyond angry all at the same time.  Yet I have no words because I cannot make sense of it all nor do I understand because I haven't been in the shoes of those who have lost jobs. those whose loved ones have died, those who have been discriminated against, those who have been wrongly incarcerated or those whose voices have been silenced.

No answers came from the trees or from the lunchtime Quaker meeting I attended. Now I sit in my office writing.  As I hear the fan blowing behind me, I feel the leaves scattering within my soul asking where is the wind taking us? 

I hold onto the Divine Knowing, to the Christ who exists outside of space of time and space and the gift of revelation through creation.  And the answer remains, "Listen,", plant your feet in the grass watching the rising and the falling of the sun. 

I claim the word, "Moo" as my message from of the scriptures of the Earth to pay attention and listen.

Ode to the Great White Egret

Ode to the Egret

I am the Great White Egret
I stand firmly in the mud
Unaware of sickness and death
The flooded fields make prime real estate
Void of destruction and loss of tribe
I enjoy the warmth of the sun
Absence of noise
Less Paparazzi
I love my silence and solitude
Food shortages absent
Crayfish and Frogs Abound
I see my family when I need them
Friends drop by sharing food and drink
Social distancing an abstract concept
I relax gazing at the distant sky
Humans never cross my mind

Endings and Beginnings - Gethsemani to Resurrection

Today as I sit in front of my computer and here the birds sing, I contemplate and remember my Monday morning, the time of leaving the Abbey of Gethsemani.  I wanted to attend all of the services before we left and so I set my alarm on Sunday night.  I managed for one last time the trek up to the church for Vigils.  However, this morning was different. I had read that twice a week the monks observed Vigils in total darkness.  Today this Monday morning was one of those times.

The monks entered and the lights went completely off.  I could not look at my booklet but could only listen to the one speaking, the one whom the spotlight illuminated.  Having it in the dark changes the focus.  I experienced Vigils as a reminder of how I cannot experience the light without the dark.  The light and the dark both have limits too much of either creates distortions.  In connecting with the Cistercians of the past by remembering Vigils as taking place in the dark before artificial lighting, the monks reflect an intuitive knowledge of light and dark.  The places of the known no more lessen our fears than the unknown creates them.  The essence lies in attentiveness and obedience to vocation. 

While my Vigils experience deeply affected me, it did not take away my exhaustion from the  combination of the time change and my staying awake all day Sunday aided by the continual consumption of caffeine.   Thus returning to my room, I set up my alarm for Lauds but somehow turned it off falling back asleep until 7 a.m. almost missing breakfast.  As I rushed to breakfast and sat down at the table in silence with my husband, I felt like I was back at home already, the hustle and bustle of the outside world crept in.   However, in the taking of the time to write some more postcards so I could mail them at the Abbey because who would be foolish enough to miss out on the monks paying the postage and  walking around the grounds one more time, I felt at peace climbing into the car heading down the road to Abraham Lincoln's birthplace.

Foregoing checking the latest news regarding the Corona Virus on my phone, I picked up my copy of the Merton Annual. After the introduction are a series of letters exchanged by Brother Patrick Hart and Father Louis aka Thomas Merton.  Reading these letters sent me back to the standing in front of Patrick Hart's fresh grave in the cemetery.  The grass not having grown back yet, the brown dusty soil reminding me that the loss of this Brother, a long-time member of their community,  remained fresh in the hearts and minds of many. Another era had ended. 

And somehow for me, Lent/Easter seems to be a time of the soil showing.  Ash Wednesday 2014, the day we receive ashes, reminding us of  our beginnings coming from the dirt and our lives being continually nourished by the dirt, our family attended church together for the last time. That Friday our daughter walked out of our lives bringing to a close an era that would never return. Last year, 2019 right before Palm Sunday, my mother-in-law passed away changing the lives of the Trently family forever, an end of the era and the beginning of the new.
 Now at this present moment in 2020,  together around the world we are faced with the Corona virus and the ever-growing changes a pandemic brings. 

Thus as Holy Week and Easter approach slowly makes it way to Pentecost, I come full circle returning to Merton and the Merton Annual, in which  Joseph Q. Raab, ends his introduction with these words, "As you enjoy the articles here, may you gently be reminded, and consoled by the fact, that being in your 'right mind' has little to do with being 'perfectly adjusted'.  The mad world needs the weird ones to bring back home some real sanity." In echoing words of Thomas Merton in 2019  the Corona virus did not exist on Raab's radar let alone on Merton's when he penned, Raids of the Unspeakable.  I would  suggest that for us in  April, 2020 amidst this pandemic, that these words are a consolation and a reminder to be part of the Resurrection not the madness.   

For it is in these moments that Christ makes all things new.  The green grass returns leading us to a new place towards Resurrection.   Christ's illuminated presence meets us in our humanity unbinding us in a way that our life experiences, the dirt, become an outlet for compassion to the world.  The grief, the sadness and the pain lessen not by going away but by allowing Christ to transform us by moving through the challenges of life not clinging tightly to them. 


May Christ's perfect peace be with you.

Abbey of Gethsemani - Day 4 - Changing Times

It is Sunday at the monastery but it is also the first weekend in March and time to turn our clocks ahead for daylight savings time.  So yes the monks do participate in daylight saving time. Saturday evening Father Carlos announced that they turn their clocks back after Vigils meaning that instead of having two hours  between Vigils and Lauds there is only one hour.

I awake and go to Vigils again taking in this darkness preparing us for a new day.  After I arrive back at my room, I decide since I have only have one hour until Lauds thus I will remain awake.  I take a shower and do some reading.   After Lauds we head downstairs to breakfast.  My husband and I still sit in front of the windows even though it is dark.  I suggest that after breakfast since we have a about two hours until mass.

We head outside bundled up and walk around to stay warm until the sun comes up and how beautiful it is.  On Sundays, it is Terce and then mass, starting at 10:20 a.m. with everything else being slightly later.  It is beautiful saying the Psalms and then being led into the church sitting behind the monks watching the processional and seeing some of them wearing the purple vestments.  Light streams through the window above us and Christ comes alive nourishing us.
We enjoy Sunday lunch while watching the birds and head outside. My husband and I go our separate ways since I had decided that I was going to attend None at 2:15 p.m.  I go outside and walk through the cemetery.  I walk and find a place to sit.  I I look at Merton's grave thinking about his writings, his epiphany and his commitment to his life as a monk.
Wonder is my word for 2020.  I take this time to wonder and observe.

I notice the time and quickly hurry inside feeling somewhat silly at rushing.  In fact I even get a smile from someone in the elevator.  I return to the church joining the monks in None noticing how it seems to fit, a shorter liturgy but no less a remember of God's presence.  It is still a meaningful praying of the psalms however I recognize that my heart absorbs more when I enter slowly and more settled.

I go to get a cup of coffee because by this time having not taken a nap which I realize in retrospect I probably should have observed meridian time like the monks to.  Instead, I resort to a snack and caffeine, watching the birds and meeting up with my husband for another joint walk.

As I wait for him in the lobby,  the monk manning the desk strikes up a conversation with me.  He tells me about how he came to Gethsemani from being a parish priest adding that he was drawn to the Abbey and contemplative life because of the community.   The view of the priesthood being lonely  had escaped my notice.   I did know however from my various experiences with silence that I valued the times when I united with others in silence.

I expressed to him how I felt distracted by wondering about the monks' life and he said that I needed to think about the Abbey as being their home.  He asked me, would I walk into someone's home and begin asking questions about everything. Of course not I said, it would be rude.  The concept of the Abbey being the monks' home escaped me somehow.

Another a wonderful opportunity happened while I stood there at the desk, a young man came up and the monk introduced him as Ty who had come to the Abbey as a inquirer.  I told Ty I would be praying for him as I felt so excited that there were young men desiring to gave to the Abbey.  Ty also mentioned that he had make a trip to Merton's hermitage of which I envied him.

I took another walk with my husband and headed across the road viewing the Abbey from a top of the hill.  We walked around a while heading back inside both needing a break before vespers and dinner.
Being extremely tired by this time, after dinner, I took one more walk outside, skipped Compline and practically fell into bed.  What a day, a filled with the richness of observation and conversation, of prayer and worship, of community and individuality and by the end feeling crazy because I had stayed awake way too long.  

Time Alive: Revolutionary Lent and Lazarus Sunday

In the 100 days of Lent/Easter/Pentecost, the focus is on theosis, that we have the love of God within us and are moving toward holiness.   How do we use this time?  What is our intention?  Christine  Valters Painter in her work speaks of sacred time, of connecting across time and space, that we always need to be mindful of kairos and not caught so caught up in chronos.

In recent weeks, with the onset of the Coronavirus Pandemic, many people are thinking about what the meaning of their lives is and how best to use their time while they are on lockdown at home.  Recently, on the show, Marketpla6ce on NPR, Kai Ryssdal asked the questions, "what is time?" and "does time mean anything'?  as he discussed the new normal, the ever changing Nasdaq and Dow Jones Industrial Average.  Perhaps this is a time to consider how much we live by the clock rather than by the sacred rhythm of Christ.  How much more time do we gain by rushing against time and by worrying about has come, or what might come?

Many times, it often seems that each and every one of us has our own idea of time.  The same folks are super on time for their work meetings, think that when you say to meet you at a restaurant at 6:30 p.m. that you mean 6:45 p.m. or 7 or even 7:15 p.m.  Some of us take personal offensive when some one is even one of two minutes late.  Some doctors' offices make you re-schedule your appointment if you are more than 15 minutes late.
 In this Sunday's Gospel, Martha thought that Jesus was late.  She believed that Lazarus would not have died if Jesus had been there.  Martha could not figure out why Jesus did not come four days earlier when she asked him to.  Yet when Jesus got there, he asked to be taken to the tomb and then at the tomb, Jesus rolled the stone away and called to Lazarus, "come out." When Lazarus came out, Jesus told the others present to unbind him and unroll the bandages.  Lazarus still had time to live.  I often wonder what Lazarus did with that time.

How do we understand time?  In these days of being in our houses and not going out, it is important for us to pay attention to kairos time and seek a new rhythm of life in God's timing not ours.  I have entitled this picture, "Time Alive" after a book written by Alexandra Stoddard, columnist, interior designer and inspirational speaker.   She writes, "when we spend time with someone, we should give the encounter 100 percent of our focused energy. When we're prepared--in mind, body and spirit--we'll be co-creators in a pleasant, meaningful exchange, experiencing the heart of time."

Are we giving God 100% of our attention?  Are we listening and co-creating or are we staying in the tomb keeping ourselves and others bound in old ways that no longer work?

I know for me I have found I feel most alive when I am writing but also when I am spending time with others especially one on one and yet somehow often myself having a half day go by without me doing anything renewing or life-giving.  My word for this year is wonder, so as I wonder, I need to wonder what  is being made anew and what I am re-claiming.

Adventures in Silence Day II at Gethsemani

Deciding, that I would try to pray the Liturgy of the Hours with the monks as often as possible I arose about 3:00 a.m. and then made my way quietly upstairs to the church and waited for Vigils to start.  It began at about 3:15 a.m.  After absorbing the richness of the liturgy, I returned to my room, set my alarm and went back to sleep until 5:30 a.m.  Lauds and Mass started at 5:45 a.m.  I knew I would be more attentive and be better able to enjoy the day by getting that extra two hours of sleep.  Again I awoke and headed up the stairs to the church and enter into prayer and Eucharist  before breakfast.  The simple rhythm of the day had begun.

After breakfast, I followed a group back up the steps for Terce, took a shower and went for a walk outside in the cemetery.   My walk brought about another mystery, a wondering about who all of these people were buried right outside the retreat center.  Many had large headstones and others by looking at the dates were older than the Abbey.   I then headed over to the visitors center/bookshop as I knew it would be closed on Sunday.  I enjoyed learning more about the history of the Cistercians and the founding of Gethsemani.  Then entered into the bookshop to buy fudge, honey and a book to take home with me.  As I wondered around the bookstore trying to choose a book with most people keeping silence like myself, I immersed myself in a shared solidarity with the Saints, the monks, and others who had left their mark on Christendom.  Many of the books in the store were written either by people knew of or featured someone who I had studied during my time at Oblate School of Theology.  Outside time and space, my soul accumulated more riches.

Soon lunchtime came.  Allan and I had been told and it was also written to posted signs to be on time for meals because the monks wash the dishes.  Every time I read this I thought about how generous the monks were being in their hospitality allowing us to be in their home while still keeping to their schedule and remaining cloistered. I took part in Sext following lunch and then I met Allan outside.  I had decided so I could take longer walks and spend a bit of time with him that I would skip one of the prayer times each day thus today skipping None. This time as we walked behind the retreat center we encountered the graves of some of the monks marked with simple crosses.  As I walked, I stumbled onto Merton's tombstone who is right next to Dom James Fox, the Abbot with whom Merton often clashed.  As walked around, I saw the grave of Father Matthew Kelty and then the grave of Brother Patrick Hart, still with fresh dirt, having only recently passed away.  All of the graves bore witness to the commitment of the monks to live in community at Abbey of Gethsemani, I thought about how the monks did not choose their graves sites which moved me to reflect on how the rest of us may get to buried who we are buried next to and where that none of us any knowledge of who will be in heaven next to us or even with us.  We could be beside the person who has been a thorn in our sides throughout our lives.

We spent some more time walking the trails and then time for vespers.  After Vespers then dinner, after dinner conference by Father Carlos, then Compline followed by bedtime.  I stopped in the library and wandered through the books making my way to periodicals and journals.  The stack of Cistercian Studies Quarterly Journals caught my eye. I had never seen print copies before but had referenced CSQ articles for my thesis. I flipped through some of the most recent copies and noticed a book review by someone that I have gotten to know through Facebook from the Emerging Scholars for Study of Christian Spirituality group.  I decided to take that copy to my room for my bedtime reading. I had bought the book, Zen and the Birds of Appetite by Thomas Merton in the bookstore but had it in my bag to save for home. 

Another day of soaking up the silence, sensing the links between the ancient and the present, experiencing the richness of connection through articles, books, nature and tombstones.  Allan and I enjoyed sitting at lunch and dinner in front of the windows watching the birds at the feeders in the garden, a shared joy even in the silence. 

Adventures in Silence: Abbey of Gethsemani

Nearly twenty-five years ago I visited the Abbey, attended Vespers and bought a copy of  Seven Storey Mountain, Merton's autobiography. Since then my life has ebbed and flowed with Merton reading other books and then not touching them for awhile.  Most recently  in the summer of 2015, I had the privilege of taking a two week summer intensive on Thomas Merton taught by Merton Scholar, Michael Higgins, Ph.D.  And now finally on March 6 of this year I achieved one of my bucket list goals  visiting the retreat house at Gethsemani.

Located outside of New Haven, Kentucky, the Abbey provides a quiet respite away from the world complete with natural trails and plenty of places just to sit listening to the birds.   My husband, Allan and  I arrived around 5 p.m. and with dinner being at 6 p.m.  We headed straight up to our rooms and while there are double rooms, Allan and I each had our own room.  I had a room with its own private bath and Allan stayed in a room in older section in which there was a common bathroom.  Signs provided us with information on maintaining silence, where to go and where we could talk.  The first night Allan and I ate dinner in the talking dining room so we could converse and figure things out.  It took some sign language to figure out where to go/how to get our dinner and what to do when we were finished.

When I first arrived I shut off my phone, detoxing from the noise of the world and yet the noise in my mind blared loudly.  Every move I made,  I felt like a spectacle.  My mind kept going to my lack of my poise and wondering what other people thought when I bumped a table or dropped my fork.  Somehow, the Spirit broke through, beginning with Father Carlos' talk on Friday night.  During the talk he used the phrase, "Jesus meets us in our humanity."  As a part of this concept, he mentioned being gentle on ourselves and on others when we forget the silence and find ourselves talking.  It convicted me of my exterior rather than an interior focus.  I need did not need to perfect but rather let me my humanity be where I experienced Jesus.

Jesus meets us in our humanity.  This phrase stayed with me after the conference as I followed others to the church for Compline.  This is the final set of prayers before the great silence sets in.  At 8 p.m.  I followed others and realized that the monks are going to bed and thought about other unpacking I needed to do.
Friday had come to an end, my silence became my disciplineexcept for when something needed speech and would last until Monday morning.  I observed  myself quieting down and soaking up the silence.

Praying Compline with the monks, listening to them chanting the Psalms and joining when appropriate soothed my soul.   I found myself walking my own new path and an ancient path simultaneously.  I became one with all of the monks who had followed the Rule of St. Benedict since its inception in the sixth century.  What a gift the monks were giving us by letting us participate with them by creating space for us in their church where for many decades outsiders did not enter with any regularity.

Monk in the World 2014

When I first began my journey of being a monk in the world in January 2012, I really had no idea what it would mean for me.   At first I thought, it would mean living a highly disciplined life and adopting a strict schedule.  No this is not what it meant for me.  For me being a monk in the world meant jumping in and taking risks.  Taking the Way of the Monk, Path of an Artist class through the Abbey was first my huge risk.  I had not done any art for a very long time and did not believe that I had an artistic bone in my body.  As the class unfolded, my own creativity emerged and then I began to see how being a monk in the world meant being the one the Divine created me to be.  As I have let loose my creative self, I have learned that there is no right or wrong as long as I live my life honestly and intentionally.  However in the midst of raising a daughter; keeping my relationship with my spouse going, caring for two cats and trying to earn some money through p/t work; I often find that I am easily distracted.  I get lost in the whirlwind and lose my balance. I am breaking the habit of trying so hard and now let the Spirit take over my priorities, which makes even the chores I dislike easier.  However for the Spirit to take over I have to do my part.

For me living as a monk in the world requires finding some time everyday to be silent; to read and to do something creative.  Again, there is no magic formula; however, I cannot do my part unless I accept who I am and stop comparing myself for others.  Due to my bipolar illness, it is difficult for me to carry out the same disciplines at the same time every day.  However, as I receive the gift of divine love; I am more able to accept myself and accept that for right now I am not one of those monks who sit in a chair everyday at the same time for twenty minutes.  My connections with God are always different but contain the same elements of silence, reading and creativity in some form every day or else I lose my balance.  Somehow, though Jesus is always there pick me up and help me start again.

The gifts I have to offer others are presence and time.  I offer a contemplative presence to life through slowly down and by giving others my undivided attention.  God has bestowed a mind upon me for remembering details, which I use to make my prayers for more specific.  I listen intentionally and with integrity.  I keep confidences and encourage others on their spiritual journeys.  When I am doing these things and am doing them in a way to honor the Divine then my spirit is at peace.

Living into my calling and being a monk in the world continues to take on a shape of its own.  It is not my shape but the Divine creating in me.   During this year alone, I have shed at least five involvements that I recognized were detrimental to me staying honest and intentional.   It is a continual of journey of trust because somehow my old insecurities always come back.  I wonder what other people will think or if anyone will like me anymore.  Yet none of this really matters.  Letting Jesus take my burdens and allowing the Divine Mother to comfort me help me to lower my expectations for my earthly community.

For me the dance is one of celebrating the ordinary and of letting the L's be my guide: leaning, letting, limiting, learning and living all in love.  I do not be need to be a super monk and stop to pray every day seven times a day but I do need to honor the sacred rhythm that has been given to me.

My creativity continues to emerge in unexpected ways.  Many things are new; but some are old and just needed to be uncovered.  My gifts of writing and listening had been stuffed for many years by own views of not seeing them as valuable and my not being talented enough.  Yet as I live as a monk in the world; these gifts continue to blossom.  There are still many unknowns in my life but letting the Spirit be my guide makes it less scary.   I am excited about how 2014 will unfold and what adventures will come my way. 

Here is a link to the Abbey of the Arts: https://abbeyofthearts.com/about/about-the-abbey/

Monk in the World 2018, Finding and Extending Hospitality in the Midst of Death

Having committed myself to be a Monk in the World for the past seven years, I have found that at various times, parts of the manifesto are harder to carry out than others.  I like living by the cycle of seasonal liturgical rhythms and for the most part, enjoy a less hurried life. However, as spring began earlier this year and Lent was ending, I found myself being swept into a polar vortex beyond my control.  All of my plans of decompressing from my thesis, journeying through Holy Week and practicing Resurrection turned upside down.

In the Monk Manifesto, the second commitment reads:  "I commit to radical acts of hospitality by welcoming the stranger both without and within. I recognize that when I make space inside my heart for the unclaimed parts of myself, I cultivate compassion and the ability to accept those places in others."  There is nothing like death to challenge your abilities to offer hospitality and stretch the limits of your compassion.

Receiving a middle of the night phone call that my mother-in-law had died thwarted my husband and me into full-throttled travel mode.  We spent time cancelling and re-arranging appointments. Then we had to make travel arrangements, find a cat sitter, and pack etc. etc.  Even all of those well-laid out plans spoiled when the airlines cancelled our flight due to weather, and we had to drive through the night to PA to make it in time for the funeral.  Driving and stopping to switch drivers, depleted my energy, limiting my ability even to be patient, let alone extend compassion.

Soon after an extremely short rest, my being felt thrust into swirling emotions and swarming people overrode my circuitry. I could barely extend hospitality to the stranger within my own soul.  I called a friend and walked under an umbrella in the rain.  Sadness bubbled up as the house seemed too quiet without all of the TVs blaring and as the cupboards stood empty, I thought of how this ended an era, my visits to 11 Marion Circle the place where I first met my husband's family would be no more.  Radical acts of hospitality did come from friends and extended family who brought food and listened to us talk about Evelyn.

However, for the other within the part of myself, I did not recognize and could barely muster the energy to extend any kindness to, radical acts of hospitality came from those who had gone before.  The moment I seated myself down in the pew, and the funeral liturgy began, I found myself enveloped by the communion of saints, both those venerated by the church and those who had been gone before in humble, devout service without recognition.  Solace came from the recitation of the Divine Liturgy of St. John of Chrysostom, a liturgy in continuous use since the sixth century.  As I took in the Stained-glass windows and meditated on the icons, when my heart became too full to concentrate on the liturgy, the Saints took over.  The ritual, tradition and experience of those who went before me sustained me. The words, the prayers, the chants and the sacrament combined to fill my senses and give my spirit language for the unspeakable.  I felt united with those who worshipped in this spot over the past 150 years.  I thought about what my in-law's wedding was like, my husband's christening and the funeral for my father-in-law all held in that same church. Later as I lit candles for my mother-in-law, for all of our family and several others, I absorbed the light knowing that the Light, the place of God within me did not ever disappear.

The Light, the place of God, upheld me in the waiting and the wondering of what was to come.  Finally, we arrived at the cemetery, the same cemetery where her parents and grandparents occupied graves.  We went into the chapel again to hear the liturgy of old recited and then stood in front of the casket as the priest recited those infamous words, "…from dust you came and to dust you shall return."

In this combination of the ancient and the modern, my heart created space and claimed the confused, frustrated, grieving and lost parts of myself.  In receiving this gift, I found the ability to care for the others around me and to allow myself to rest knowing that all of us were apart of a larger community, an ongoing continuous community made up of past and present, of living and dead, of the known and unknown.

Originally posted as part of the Monk of the World column on Abbey of the Arts website, 02/26/20

Here is the link to my first blog post for Monk in the World: https://livingintomycalling.blogspot.com/2020/03/monk-in-world-2014.html

Learn more about the Abbey and being a Monk in the World by following this link: https://abbeyofthearts.com/about/monk-manifesto/

Revolutionary Lent - There and Back Again

Somehow between Sundays 3 and 4,  Nicodemus offering a voice of tradition to consider during a time and Christ offering living water for the woman at the well,  the Spirit has shifted my heart, mind and soul into a new direction. The old focus was not wrong just that this shift fits better with these strange times of the Corona Virus and social distancing. 

Ironically enough for whatever reason, instead of hearing about Nicodemus the monks Gospel reading was the Transfiguration . Once again, the Spirit spoke loudly to me to listen, listen to what you are being called to do.  I returned back home the next day in this place of listening again.  No one signed-up for my journaling workshop so I was forced to cancel.  Thus I went ahead and suspended my membership at the CO for the time being, because as much as I loved it being there, it  does not fit with my current projects.  As I made these decisions and other events cancelled, I find myself disappointed and depressed.  Yet as I arose out of this despair, I found myself knowing that this was to be a season of decluttering, of writing and of painting. 

The decluttering came first.  Papers in the living room and on my office floor that I had avoided dealing with for months began to be filed, shredded or recycled.  As the papers cleared,  I received an e-mail from a friend telling me, she had read my I guest blog post at Monk in the World, a column on the Abbey of the Arts website. A copy of this post will appear in a separate post following this one,  I had written this column months ago and had no idea it had even appeared.  My friend complimented my writing and said I need to be writing for pay,  The Spirit got my attention because this is not the first time that God has spoke through other people telling me

need to write.  However, I have failed to consistently heed this call. 

I recognized that with my space clean and my quiet at home, the time of writing has appeared.   Thus I return to my calling of listening and writing.  Listening as a spiritual director offering anyone two free sessions of spiritual direction via telephone or Zoom throughout this time of uncertainty.  As for the writing, I will be offering reflections here each day on my experience at Gethsemani and offering a related practice that can be done at home. 

I welcome your comments and reflections.  Thus here I am back at home,  heeding the Spirit's beckoning, writing and listening.  As we enter the Fifth Week of the 100 days, this Sunday's Gospel is Jesus' healing of the blind man.  Let us accept Christ's offering to make us see, healing our blindness that we may know how we are to live and serve in this world throughout this time of uncertainty.

Sacred Disruptions/Interruptions - an Epiphany

So the other day, as I drove to an appointment, I was listening to a talk on Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen.  The speaker, Dr. Michael Higgins referred to Merton and Nouwen as, "sacred disrupters."
While Dr. Higgins had something different in mind, I can definitely say that they began a sacred disruption in my life.  Reading their works began my pursuit of the contemplative.  In their writings at a time when I felt misunderstood beyond measure I found comfort.  These two men, one a priest and another monk, both already decreased by the time I opened their books, captured my heart, mind and soul.  Merton and Nouwen possessed high intelligence, wrestled with their vocations and openly declared their shortcomings.  A seed began to germinate.  A movement toward the contemplative, a desire for more silence and solitude, less noise, less television and less people.  A slow process of becoming, with its many twists and turns, of moves and losses, of bad choices and addiction, of feeling completely lost but somehow I always returned to their writings, writings that grounded me and made me feel less alone because I took great comfort in knowing that they struggled too and that they too at times had felt alone.  What are my favorites?  Thomas Merton's, New Seeds of Contemplation and Henri Nouwen's,  Road to Daybreak. Both of them wrote their journals which have been published in various forms which I am continually drawn.

Fast forward to the present day, in the last several weeks the Abbott John Eudes Bamberger, passed away.  The same John Eudes Bamberger who translated, the Pratikos and Chapters on Prayer by Evagrius Ponticus in the early 1970s which I consulted for my master's thesis, also had relationships with Thomas Merton and Henri Nouwen.  I deeply regret not having e-mailed him to tell him about my thesis and how his work played a role in it.  Further still, I could have had the opportunity to meet him in person at an International Thomas Merton Society event if I had attended.  A full circle, a pursuit of vocation leading to connections between all of their writings and myself. 
Life is short so listening to those still small tuggings of the Spirit fails to be an option if I am truly a Christ-follower and do not want to miss out. 

And now to a sacred interruption which totally altered my trajectory,  a little girl, said hello to me in Starbucks as I headed out the door having already spent a long while working on m y thesis.  However, I stopped and playfully introduced myself, meeting her friend and asking their ages.  Soon her mother and I began talking.  By the end of the conversation, we recognized a kindred spirit and agreed we need to talk again.  This encounter eventually led to three different encounters which led me to take the plunge and seek out becoming a member of the CO, a place where I could go and share cooperative office space.  On February 19, 2020 I officially joined the CO, four days before Transfiguration Sunday.   And somehow in that moment I knew I could not go back, similarly to Merton as he stood on the 4th and Walnut in Downtown, Louisville,  I experienced an epiphany. I needed to participate in the 100 day festival not skirt around but claim the renewal offered by the E arth and to participate in the call to being as Merton says, "Our True Self"  journeying with others desiring the same and becoming One with them regardless of theology or dogma. 

As the third week approaches, I leave you with these words that sit on my heart, touch the depth of my soul  and occupy a space in my mind,  "Nicodemus challenges, Jesus the Christ, 'How can these things be? the Christ answers,'You are the teacher of a deep spiritual tradition and yet you do not understand these things?" -
© Alexander John Shaia, 2020

Photo of me in April, 2015 at the site of Thomas Merton's Epiphany, where many of us attending the 2015 Spiritual Directors International Meeting tied a ribbon on the pole offering up our prayer for wisdom and guidance. 

2nd Sunday in Lent, Evagrius and relationships

Today I listened to the reading of the Gospel on temptation and attended a Sunday School discussing Jesus in the wilderness being tempted.  Yet my mind kept coming back to Evagrius and listening, to relationship and imprinting not memorizing the Bible but absorbing Jesus the Christ and his words into my life. Evagrius Ponticus the fourth century monk, I wrote my thesis about, took Christ's example of responding to the Devil with scripture as how we needed to respond to temptations or rather evil thoughts.  However, Evagrius was not focused on the memorization of scripture but on the imprinting of scripture on the heart, mind and soul.  He wrote a book containing scriptures to use against the various different kinds of evil thoughts and stressed to the monks the idea of meditating on scripture throughout work and play. 

From my thesis,
"Scripture clears the mind of distracting images and representations that it may understand the mysteries of God. The Holy Spirit inhabits the mind. According to Evagrius spiritual knowledge is the only knowledge needed. As the monk contemplates the mystery, God needs no form or shape or color or symbol. David Brakke writes, “As contemplation, the reading of scripture is a dynamic and fluid process, in which the distinctions between reader and text break down and the text becomes internalized within the monk’s intellect.”[1]

---

[1] Brakke, “Reading the New Testament,” 290.

Evagrius viewed immersion in scripture not as a means to an end but rather to become part of and participate in the Holy Mystery.  For after all, isn't temptation my failure to connect with God, separation by my own choosing, rather than communicating with God and living into who I am created to be.  

The bottom line is relationships. Christ is all and in all, the great physician who has compassion on us and desires us to show compassion, patience and gentleness with others. 

 Evagrius writes, " Observe how the Physician of souls here corrects our incensive power through acts of compassion, purifies the intellect through prayer, and through fasting withers desire. By means of these virtues the new Adam is formed, made again according to the image of his Creator - an Adam in whom, thanks to dispassion, there is 'neither male nor female' and, thanks to singleness of faith, there is 'neither Greek nor Jew, circumcision nor uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, bond nor free; but Christ is all, and in all' (Gal. 3:28; Col. 3: 10:11)".^[1]

---

[1] Ware. Kallistos, G.E.H. Palmer and Philip Sherrard, trans., The Philokalia, (Amazon, Kindle Edition, 2016), Kindle Locations 326-333, Kindle.

And the journey continues: 

 More clouds, sun and sky, more brightness and bloodiness, pain and healing, a journey towards holiness knowing that the Divine is in me and  I am being transformed.  

Out of the Ashes - Revolutionary Lent - Day 4

Almost 30 years ago, my life as I knew it came to a halt.  My concentration and my memory functioned at their lowest levels. My body always felt exhausted even to the point that I went four days without taking a shower.  Nothing was enjoyable or if it felt good it did not last very long. Even food did not taste the same.  My life as a college student came to an end and I felt as if the world had ended.   All that I could see was a pile of ash, of dreams burnt into flames and plans gone awry.
Yet my God is one of  compassion and mercy, He never let me go.  Today I have both a bachelors and masters degrees, a husband of nearly fifteen years and it has been seventeen years since my last psych hospitalization.

So tonight, I received ashes as Alexander John Shaia puts it “ to continue to strengthen me and to know that Love is God’s face and my own. “ Tonight I remember the healing I have experienced and joy that comes from knowing that even though following my calling is not easy, I am healthy and alive much more so that I was for many years.  Bipolar Disorder will never stop being apart of my life. I will always be on medication and always have to monitor my sleep,diet, exercise and stress but I have been given a second chance at living.  This blog is entitled, “livingintomycalling” because that is what I know to do, to live into who I have been created to be to allow Christ to work through me and continue to transform me.

I feel called to be a spiritual director because I have gifts of listening, compassion and mercy that I want to use to help others care for their souls, discovering meaningful practices that will connect them to Christ in a deeper way.  I offer companioning and guiding for those who need a listening ear to share their stories and help them discern the spirit.  Why?  Because during my deepest depression, I realized that when your life is turned upside down, the spiritual practices that worked before may feel meaningless and seem to bring more despair when you cannot do what you did before.  Thus I want to guide others to help find practices which connect them to God that are not the traditional spend an hour with God, read scripture and pray.  I also became a spiritual director because I recognized that there is such a need for it, beyond counseling and beyond physicians, we often need spiritual support as well to bring us to healing and wholeness.  As our spirituality evolves and unfolds, we need people to journey with us as others fall away.
To learn more about my work visit, http://www.jennifertrently.org/

So this 100 days is a season of grace and of love, of a movement toward holiness with a focus on living into who I have been created to be.  I invite you to join me and offer your comments and reflections here.

Transfiguration

Merriam-Webster defines transfiguration as "a change in form or appearance."

Over the next 100 days this picture will change. In fact what is shown here is only a small part of a larger unfinished canvas. Using watercolor pencil I have begun the process of listening. 

Yesterday as the Feast of Transfiguration began, I sat down and read over Matthew 17:1-8 several times reflecting and mediating on it. The words which I kept hearing over and over again, were "Listen to Him."  In a strange twist of irony, although the Holy Spirit always has a way of aligning things up, the priest this morning kept repeating this phrase over and over again, Listen to Him. She said, when you listen God will direct you and provide instructions.  

LISTEN 

In a little over an hour from now, Central Standard Time, sundown will occur and the Feast of Transfiguration will end.  

So what's next???????????????????????????????????????????

the Great 100 days

The Great 100 days began this evening at sun down of the Feast of Transfiguration.  It lasts until the Feast of Pentecost on Sunday May 31, 2020.   I look forward to where this journey will take me as I join others in restoring a teaching of the Early Church which has been lost for the past 500 years.

Theosis:

1. We participate in God’s energies. Energeia is the Greek term, and it means an action or a working, but always of a divine sort (this is true in the classical tradition as well as in the Bible; see e.g. Col. 1:29, 2:12; Acts 4:24; I Cor. 12:10; Eph. 1:19 and elsewhere; Phil. 3:21). This participation begins with repentance and forgiveness and proceeds from there. The term energeia occurs some 30 times in the New Testament, and is never translated properly.
2. We become “godly,” to use an old Protestant term. By participating in God’s energies, we align with God’s will and purpose in the world.
3. We put into practice (praxis) the spiritual teachings of Jesus by participating in the sacramental life and ascetic practices of the church.
4. We contemplate God (theoria is the Greek term and it means “beholding” as in wonder); thus and so do we come to know what it means to be fully human. St Irenaeus, again: “the glory of God is a human being fully revealed” (Against Heresies, Book V).
5. We enter into struggle (podvig in Russian) against the temptations in order to conform to the image of Christ. A podvig is the special effort we make to align with God. It is a term that means not only effort, but a special resolve to become more attuned to God’s work in our life through ascetic practice. Not that we ever earn God’s favor by such labors; they are a gift to ourselves that enables us to focus more clearly on God’s presence in our lives.

To follow along with Dr. Alexander John Shaia's work on the 100 days visit: https://www.facebook.com/AlexanderJohnShaia/

Revolutionary Lent

Much  has changed in my life since I wrote the blogpost, https://livingintomycalling.blogspot.com/2014/04/a-different-kind-of-lent-heading.html, six years ago.  I would invite you to read that blog post and the subsequent blog posts of 2014 if you would like to know more of the story.

In the  past few days though,  I have realized how much I been broken open and transformed over the past several months.  New people and new places have come into my life.  I have found courage to take risks.   My contemplative art has been featured in a  show, I have had several workshops and now I have become a member of a co-operative office where I go everyday to work on my marketing and my writing.
Now as Lent approaches, I hear the call to be apart of a return to the ancient observance of the 100 days from Transfiguration-Easter.  It is a call not just to be faithful to my own inner journey but to join with others in the prayer, "May we all be one," Alexander John Shaia.  It is a call to love and to participate in theosis not atonement.
More thoughts on this to follow as my adventures of new marketing, being in a new office, building new relationships and participating  as the  100 days continue.

However, it is not about a new podcast or a new book or a new website but about as I read the story of Transfiguaration in Matthew this evening, I heard the words, "Listen to Him. "  I need to listen to Jesus the Christ and as the title of this blog states, live into my calling and go forward not run from it or avoid it but listen knowing that as Dr. Shaia puts it, "out of the darkness comes the new radiance."  For me that new radiance has brought my work for 2020, "Wonder", to life, I continue to be in awe of the grace and friendliness offered to me as I enter new circles and try new things.

For more about  Alexander John Shaia's work, visit http://www.quadratos.com./.