St Benedict's Feb 12: Tones

We are encouraged to attend certain services at the nearby monastery. Vigils at 4:30am, Lauds or Mass at 7:3am, Vespers to close the day at 7pm. The Trappists monks wear long, cream robes and sing in response, back and forth in deep, simple tones. We join in, keeping our voices low and blended. No soaring solos here, instead we blend to honor the Psalms we sing.  Ancient and reverent. 

Like old branches anchored in the earth. 

 

Like photos with little color but intriguing forms.

By Night

The tapers in the great God’s hall

     Burn ageless, beautiful and white,

But only with the fall of dusk

     Disclose to earth their faithful light.

Earth keeps her lamps of beauty, too,

     Fairer than stars in fields above;

Dark hours of grief and pain reveal

     The undreamed constancy of love.  

                                           Philip Jerome Cleveland

Walking in the Dark

I saw him leave behind me.

It’s a good half-mile to walk and snow crunches beneath my feet.

My flashlight bobs a weak path on this moonless night

And I pull the coat hood snug around my head.

Down the hill,

   Around the corner

He follows my light.

The bells toll.

   Quickening my pace,

I reach the dark cluster of pines, branches hanging low and heavy.

Behind me, his footsteps are faster, catching up,

   At the threshold his arm reaches out

And opens the chapel door.

I nod.

We enter together in silence for evening vespers.
Pilgrims, he and I, companions without words

 Merely sharing light.

St Benedict's Feb 11: Branches

The day began. We rose early and sat in our chosen spaces in our circle of love as the night gave way to dawn. Gray light filtered into the prayer room.  We left slowly and quietly.

Now I sit and listen to women quietly mixing breakfast muffins for our breakfast and peeling potatoes for our lunch.  Whispers, a fan, the mixer.  Homey noises of comfort and service.

I face a large window, my feet propped comfortably on the wide stucco ledge. Before my eyes are the scruffy trees I have learned are not trees, but mature serviceberry bushes.  They are captivating with the snow piled precariously on their gnarled  trunks and branches. 

The clouds hang low once again and I shiver in anticipation of the wonder that awaits when the sun finally shines.  After a week of clouds and snow, tomorrow’s forecast is sunshine. The mountains will be revealed.   I have a delicious secret and can’t wait to share it with my fellow pilgrims, especially ones from far away.  We are rimmed with mountains and they are unseen.

Is this God’s heart for us? Expectancy of our delight when the clouds roll back and we fully see?   Like Christmas for a child, wonder and eagerness is wrapped up in a hug. Today my sense of anticipation is palatable.

Meanwhile, I enjoy snow laden branches of the Colorado serviceberry bush.

Soon will come the leaves of grace

That flood the tree with living,

And barren bark and trees with dance

And whisper joy with greenery.

Long, long the winter has been,

Bleak and stark and cold.

Wherein the heart is rendered wry.

But a broken spirit You’ll not spurn,

Nor forsake a humble heart.

So soon the leaves of grace will come

Out of the very core of me,

Where you have been this long, long winter

Preparing in me a verdant spring.  

                  Robert J. Hope,

                            From the Center, Poetic Prayers and Meditations

St Benedict's Feb 8th : Fog

There has been too long of a gap in my posts about my time in Snowmass. But the lessons and somedays, the fog, still echo through my spirit.  Life can threaten to obscure the lessons and community of a retreat.  For me, it was a blessing to find this draft and reread it, clean it up a bit and revisit my wonderful time in retreat. May it bless you as well.

Snowmass
Feb 2014

A gray flannel of fog settles over the valley.

*Fog- “a cloud of varying size formed at the surface of the earth by condensation of atmosphere vapor and interfering to a greater or less extent with horizontal visibility”

                                       or....Clouds that form low enough to mess with my vision.

*Fog-“ by photographic definition is a dark blur clouding part or all of a developed print or plate.”                                    In the past, the result of distraction in a photography black room.

 In my case that week, shooting pictures through a screen produces an interesting “fog”.

Fog, see Obscure

* Obscure- “ Covered. Difficult to discern, inconspicuous, humble. Having little or no light, dim dusky.    Ant.- clean, distinct, lucid, obvious”

* See....mysterious, dark.  ”Mysterious occurrence contains something unknown, but not necessarily unknowable, while something obscure is hidden but may be brought to the light.”

                                                           *All definitions from the Funk and Wagnalls Standard Collegiate Dictionary, 1977.

Fog forces one to slow down, watch carefully, to set aside prior assumptions.  

I drive in unfamiliar surroundings, especially in dark or fog, I have a visceral flashback to my childhood.  For a moment, I’m a child - once again riding in the backseat, up a narrow, winding canyon road with a roaring river on one side.  

As an adult, despite my logical understanding of my current driving terrain- “I’m on flat ground, there is no river, etc,” my brain reverts to that child’s fear and shouts, “Danger!”

This week I am here in Snowmass, Colorado for silence and solitude, to have undistracted days to sink into God’s heart. Sometimes this process feels a bit hidden, obscure- not clear or obvious. I am learning as much as I “know” God loves me and that His heart toward me is good, there are broken places in me.  

Something will happen and my subconscious shouts, “Danger! This has hurt you in the past.  Protect your heart. He’s not to big enough to handle this.”  And I repeat old patterns of self-protection and defense. Anger is always a good back-up emotion. It’s more comfortable and more accessible than my subconscious fear.

So as a winter fog settles over this valley, I am slowing down, laying down old patterns and assumptions. God’s character and His love cannot be experienced nor fully understood only by my logic. I’m entering a fog, so to speak- listening, leaning into my reactions, learning to trust God in new ways.  

”Mysterious occurrence contains something unknown, 
but not necessarily unknowable, 

while something obscure is hidden but may be brought to the light.”

As much as it obscures our vision, fog also holds life giving water.  Low clouds shroud this valley and dump their moisture each night.

 In this retreat exploring spiritual obscurity and mystery, I can trust Jesus Christ, the Water of Life.  For the Son is always present and in due time, all will be revealed.   

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

― Thomas Merton, Thoughts in Solitude

Seen through a mirror dimly,
or a screen darkly.

We long for the day of complete sight.

St Benedict's- Feb 6th : Squares

 Feb 6

In this rich retreat environment, ideas just percolate to the surface.  Today I’m challenging myself to take only square pictures.  I just read, The Cube: Keep the Secret by Annie Gottlieb and I have cubes on my mind. Fascinating book, by the way.

I just wandered around and looked. All these photos are taken on my iPhone and it has a handy square mode. I've never used it but it was handy for this exercise.

So each photo today is taken in square mode and minimal cropping was done.  More often we compose pictures in landscape or portrait mode, especially in a natural setting such as this.  

But I like thinking, “What exactly is in this square field of vision?”

A man's head perhaps.

Where do I try to put my God into a square, into a nice neat box?  A box is easy to draw- school age children learn to draw a three dimensional box. Like an old parlor trick, impressive but ultimately, well-

child’s play.  It’s easy to wrap our minds around a god who stays inside our lines.



We live in the world of square- equality is exalted and spaces with four matching sides, like houses and cubicles, define our boundaries.  We put our god in a box and declare the boundaries of our dogmas and doctrines set.


But God fills our squares anyway- up to the very edges with Himself and then, the very fullness of God pushes the boundaries of our tight, safe spaces. He doesn’t tear down our stable parallelograms. He waits until we are discontent and calls us from beyond to the wide open spaciousness of Himself.

My word to day is spacious- this is a spacious place.

synonyms:

roomy, capacious, palatial, airy, sizable, generous, large, big, vast, immense;

 I look across the valley at the mountains beyond but more than that- there is sense of possibility and openness here.  God is big here in this sacred valley.

What if God has a heart that can't be contained? 

What if His view is the wide open and so much bigger than we can imagine? 

What if.....there are no walls?

First things first- Skiing!

I last cross-country skied in the 70’s, maybe once since then. Last year I bought a new set of fancy skis- with “fish skin” bottom, no more wax. This week in Snowmass I set off on my adventure in the new fallen snow.

So here's some thoughts triggered by my day out in the snow. 

Beauty isn’t always in technicolor.

Following a marked track can make life easier.

Be prepared-
our safe boundaries are obscured sometimes.

You’ve gone further than you think.

If you’re in pain, stop and fix it....

.....pain can also reveal the need to fix something else.

Life is all about choices

It’s hard work to break your own trail. 
Sometimes it's good to return to the familiar. 

Retreating can lead to home.

Almost home.

Open the door to a new day.

An Adventure in Silence

I returned this weekend from a ten day silent retreat in the Colorado mountains. I wrote each day I was there and plan to post some pieces in the coming weeks.  Suffice it to say, the retreat was all I had hoped and more. 

I left Denver and headed west in plenty of time but got distracted and missed my turn, twice. As I approached the major tunnel that can be a bottleneck, all was well and I sped under the mountains. A blinking overhead sign warned me the highway was closed ahead but I kept thinking it couldn't be right! Ha- accidents happen all the time along that mountain road.  So I exited and explored a town I’ve only driven by in the past. They have a community thrift store so it was a natural place for me to kill a couple of hours.  I now have “new” ski googles and a terrific fuzzy throw.

The road reopened (updates via phone) and I continued west, now through falling snow. I exited the main highway and made my way up the road toward Aspen. Then I turned onto yet another, much smaller road- could this be right? Seems a little...well, loosely maintained.  I stopped and asked a friendly woman shoveling snow, “Am I on the road to St Benedict’s?” 

She smiled and assured me I was on the right road. “Have a blessed retreat.”

The road got smaller.

The monochromatic promise of a week of silence and Presence.

Finally I was driving in the flat light of late afternoon. My headlights added no clarity so I drove slowly, assuming I’d bump off the side walls of snow. The whole area had just been hit with a major winter storm, hence the lack of plowing on the back roads.  

Sometimes you just feel your way and trust the journey.

Driving in flat light-
an exercise in trust.

But I arrived.  To a warm welcome, a cup of tea and the promise of rich fellowship. 

Home isn’t always a place you’ve been before. 

St Benedict's Retreat House
Snowmass, Colorado

The retreat center just an hour after I arrived.
Fellow retreatants trickled in all night, delayed by various storms. 

The adventure began. I hope you can join me.