Thursday, April 11, 2013

Before Flight

I will be rising at 4AM to catch an early flight to Minneapolis.  I am a day- and ten years- overdue.  Maybe.  Or maybe I am right on time, right where I need to be, right where and when I am: listening to my daughter read the stories she wrote about ice cream and rocks at her school open house tonight;  sending love to my husband as he vents his frustrations on the phone with a friend;  contemplating the card- and the forgiveness- I am to send to the one in prison who has lost his mother; helping a friend with a prayer, and praying it with her as her husband undergoes surgery today.

As I enter the deep compassion, the heart beneath the noise, I hold these dear ones close.  They are there at the center where the stone strikes these brackish waters, and the ripples extend outward.  The ripples of compassion extend to other ones beyond; there are many suffering, and there is a need for healing.  We are not the saviors of the world, but by holding a loving presence, our love ripples outward into all these communities.  I will carry these communities of people with me on this trip, as I am also carried.

It was an unexpected discovery in preparing for this conference, that I would also face my own resistance and fear. I had received a scholarship to attend Spiritual Directors International- "Cultivating Compassion on the River" Conference as a 'New Contemplative' back in January, and I have been very excited.  But just a day ago I sat down to meditate and noticed feelings of resistance.  It was a surprise in unpacking that resistance that there was also this rich deep love... and belonging...and appreciation for home.  I discovered with gratitude that I am exactly where I need to be, and if I need to "go anywhere", it is only into the deeper present-- the experience of becoming more awake in each moment.  I have come to experience compassion as a brilliant joyful interbeing in the highlands around this river; my call is only to deepen relationship, to know each moment even more fully. This also means facing my shortcomings, the times I turn my face away from that which I fear.  True growth can come only when we face our shadows and know ourselves more fully.  How can we be present with the poverty and suffering of others, if we cannot face our own?  What matters most isn't how many people hear my voice or heed my words, but rather the quality of the presence I might share in one sacred encounter with one other person in one single moment.

And yet there are new adventures- from estuary to ocean- that beckon on.  And with each new arising, I am called forward to grow more fully into myself, into a more alive human being.  This is the real work of a contemplative-- to become a tributary of true compassion and healing in the world-- the gifts of my being opened to the world.  As I prepare for the conference, I recall this song of the Inuit people:

The great sea has set me in motion.
Set me adrift,
And I move as a weed in the river.

The arch of sky
And mightiness of storms
Encompass me,  
And I am left
Trembling with joy.

I am a tiny weed floating.... a ripple not only of this river, but of the spiritual seekers and contemplatives and peacemakers and lovers of life who seek a new earth everywhere.  This is what was revealed to me on the phone call with the other New Contemplatives tonight, who I will join in Minneapolis tomorrow.  It is a gift and a blessing and a joy to share this journey. Even as I arrive a little late, I am arriving with a soul more fully prepared for the encounter. The love I experience here on this river will only be deepened by leaving for a short time to feed my soul in this new community; and each moment lived in full awareness and presence holds a gift of compassion still waiting to be unfolded.  

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