Wellspring: inspiration and guidance for a spiritual journey

Then and Now, by Libby Moore

Watching the Democratic convention in Denver has brought back memories. Forty years ago this week I wound up in Chicago for the 1968 Democratic National Convention, the one where protesters came by the thousands to "confront the warmongers" in Chicago and were themselves confronted by angry police and National Guardsmen. I hadn't really planned to be there, but as seemed to happen during that period of my life, my personal world was in upheaval and I was swept along in the tide of events, finding myself in the midst of one of the major brouhahas of our generation.

It was a scary time, brutality and controversy swarming through and around delegates and protesters alike. But it was also a hopeful time, when we who were congregating in the parks and on the streets believed that our new way of relating to one another and to the world could change the course of our nation and of humanity. And it was a joyful time, singing and chanting and marching together, knowing that we were united in our opposition to the war. We were confident that we were doing the right thing.

I struggle now to connect my young self – the one who was willing to put her body on the line (although I never did get arrested or beaten) for what she believed – with my older, calmer, more peaceful self. Somewhere in this sixty-something person that I am now are threads that go back to that angry, hopeful twenty-three year old. I believed in justice and equality then, and still do. I believed in honesty and openness then, and I still do. I believed in the importance of living my values, and I still do.

But my understanding of what it means to live my values has changed. Where I used to feel that we had to change the world by confronting institutions and rejecting the people who believed in them, I now believe we change the world one person at a time, by finding love and personal connection. I believe there's more to be gained in listening and understanding than in confrontation and anger. I no longer believe that I know the only truth or have the only answer.

So, have I "copped out," as I would have said of myself forty years ago, or have I become wiser? I know that I am certainly happier, more in touch with the deep meaning of my life, more committed to living deeply and well, with love and gratitude. And I know also that I couldn't be where I am now without having been that young woman marching with her friends in the streets of Chicago. I live in the present moment, or try to, but my present moment includes all the moments in my past, all the people I've known and loved along this amazing journey. I am grateful to have had those moments, and grateful for my life as it is now.

Inspired by Thursday's ENJOY JULY concert, by Carolyn Coit Dancy

this haiku is dedicated to Mary Lyubomirsky

riffs at dusk
jazz quintet
and katydids

Empty Nest, by Libby Moore

My husband and I were gone for a long weekend back in June, and when we got home, we found that a robin had come back to nest for a second year in the hanging planter just outside our garden room. She was shocked to discover us moving around on the other side of the glass, I think, lights going on at night, eyes peering through the glass. But she went ahead and laid her eggs anyway, one a day for four days, and then proceeded to sit on them faithfully through rain and heat and hunger.

A couple of weeks ago the eggs hatched, leaving impossibly small bits of fluff in the nest, barely obvious as birds. A few days later they became all gaping beaks waiting for one of their weary parents to ferry in another worm or bug. The babies crowded each other in the nest as they grew, jockeying for position and ready for food all the time.

Then yesterday morning three of the babies left the nest. They went suddenly, almost falling out of the confined space and into the great world, where they hopped quickly toward the nearby undergrowth. One flew up to a tree branch, but the others remained out of sight. They had been stretching their wings for a while, though, getting ready for this moment, and they've been growing so fast they're probably out there pecking away at worms and looking just like the other robins.

Yesterday was a particularly auspicious time for these babies to leave the nest and find their wings. It was the morning when participants from last year's Wellspring groups led the Sunday morning worship service. Their topic was the theology of joy, one of our favorite sessions. With poetry and music and their own moving words, they tested their wings and flew, offering themselves and their wisdom to the congregation with grace and love. All year, we've been trying to nurture souls in the confined space of small groups, offering bits of wisdom and a safe place to grow in the company of like-minded seekers. This service yesterday was an expression of that growth, a gift to our congregation.

I am grateful for the many ways in which Wellspring participants have contributed to our congregation, and especially for the beauty they created yesterday. May they fly well, wherever they choose to go from here.

Marty stopped chasing bunnies, by Tina Simson

Something profound happened this morning; Marty stopped chasing bunnies. You remember Marty my sweet old dog and guru. Well this morning, we were walking and right in front of him, munching on some grass was a massive rabbit. Marty saw him and in a moment, when I’m sure they made eye contact, the bunny acknowledged Marty’s existence and Marty growled “Hrumpf” under his breath and kept walking.

Now, just so you know, since the very day we brought Marty home 14 years ago, every time we let him out the front door, he clears the field with barks and growls that light up the neighborhood. He announces his presence and lets everyone know that this is his territory and all should beware. We say he’s protecting us from the “evil doers” and we feel infinitely safe. Then he goes about perusing the property, sniffing and grumbling to himself. We call this, “Marty on Safari.” We’re not sure what that means, but we know it’s important business.

The other thing Marty does without fail is chase rabbits, it’s his job. And we have lots of rabbits. In all these years he has never caught one but he is intent in his effort. If he’s inside, he chases from window to window, barking in a fit of annoyance that they even consider coming into his yard.

So whatever should I make of his acceptance of this nemesis? I came inside and opened my book on Native American Animal Totems. Totems explain that the energy of various animals teach us about aspects of ourselves. It reads that Rabbits are our annoying fears, those niggling shadows that darken our paths and stop our progress. Here’s what I read.

“Rabbits are guides into the shadow world, where all of our personal fears lie. When the rabbit appears it is time to examine those deep reflexive fears that hold you back from growing. Do you keep dashing for the safety of your old patterns every time something new or challenging presents itself? If so the rabbit asks you to face your fears with compassion for yourself. Accept that it is part of human nature to feel fear at times, but also believe that our fears need not paralyze our growth and movement.”

Fear, like rabbits, is inevitable and fear is one of my least favorite emotions. Personally when fears rise in my life I attack with as much vigor as Marty chases the rabbits. We can avoid fear in so many ways, by isolating ourselves, and through addictions of all sorts. I hide from fears by tracking them down, looking for “information” thinking about solutions. This all seems so practical but in honesty it doesn’t work. I’m still scared.

So what was Marty telling me today? Is it time to stop fighting with that, which scares me? Is it possible that I can live with fear as a neighbor rather than an enemy? Was he showing me how to acknowledge the fears right in my path and stop trying to run them down? Was he telling me that at some point in life, it is better to make friends with all the things that scare me? I’m not sure I have any answers yet but I’m sure he is telling me that there is much to learn from that which scares me.

Leave it to my old dog to teach me new tricks.

Be still and know, by Tina Simson

I was away last week at a year-end intensive for seminary. I attend One Spirit Interfaith Seminary and in addition to monthly sessions in New York City, we are required to attend an intensive session each year. Our time there is spent on several things, some academic, some purely fun and many introspective and spiritual. The setting is perfect, a Catholic retreat center on the Hudson river complete with rolling hills, an abundance of birds, and solitary places to sit and commune with god. I can honestly say I had moments when the awe that inspires me was in full bloom. And I had moments of gratitude so deep they brought me to my knees.

One such moment came while thinking about Wellspring, my personal springboard to this new life path. It was through my experience in the Wellspring Program that I finally understood the deep spiritual origins of our denomination. That’s when my future became clear. I felt called and knew that I could in fact live in a faith so dear to me and openly and honestly embrace my soul at the same time. That had always seemed the biggest challenge to me.

Then I wondered if other UUs had similar challenges. One of my deans told me I have a classic Jonah Complex, in that I seem to “run from God.” When I read the story of Jonah, you know the one about the big fish, I can see that’s she’s right. Jonah hears God’s voice and not only ignores it but runs the other way and boards a ship headed in the direction opposite to God’s request. I think I’ve done that my whole life. And when you think about it, God’s request is really so simple, take this message to the people of Nineveh and help them find a new way to live in peace.

But it’s easy for UUs to run from God, we are not typically a bunch that gets called. Many UUs have had rough experiences with traditional God centered religions so we are naturally a wary bunch. We don’t usually hear voices or find burning bushes. Or do we?

UUs live fiercely in this world and steer clear of looking for heavenly solutions. We work tirelessly to improve the world we live in and if we are willing to admit it, we take the commandments very seriously. Our own Rev. Dick Gilbert wrote The Prophetic Imperative that implored us to recognize our obligation to address the injustice in this world with vigor. But aside from the wise influence of our prophets, what voice do we hear when we embrace and mend this world? And can we call this voice God?

For me this voice is deep within, it is the core of who I am. It speaks only the truth and challenges me to see the world through the eyes of our most holy teachers, Jesus, Buddha, Mohammad, and Krishna. And the voice reminds me that God looks back at me through the eyes of our most vulnerable. The voice encourages me to pay attention equally to the sorrow of humankind and to the dancing fireflies in my yard. After many years of tending, this voice is my constant companion. This voice doesn’t chatter at me like the proverbial monkey mind; it is loudest when I am still.

There are some faith traditions that would call this the voice of God. And as such, can Unitarian Universalists listen and heed this call? Can we dispense with our debates over whether we are agnostic, or theist? Can we stop running from the Divine? Can we agree to kneel in the presence of this world and honor our callings? Can we be still and know that we are God?

The gift of noise, by Tina Simson

I scheduled a massage for myself last week. I wanted to let go of the strain and turmoil of my life and relax into the trusted hands of Michelle, my massage therapist. Not only is she skilled and generous of heart, but also her office is a perfect haven. Located in an old house with lots of worn wood, it has all the trimmings; candles, soft music, Zen like furnishings and a statue of the gentile goddess of compassion. I walk into a sanctuary for my soul when I’m there and I can’t help but relax. So last Friday’s session began as I expected. I settled into the moment and let the ambience wash over me. That is until the gardening crew arrived. Within a few minutes of my cherished hour, lawn mowers and leaf blowers were roaring outside the window. Not only were the crew members busy, they were ever so friendly and talkative, yelling to each other above the noise about the beautiful morning and aspects of their lives. Well, I couldn’t hear the soft music and I felt my whole being tense. Damn, this wasn’t what I needed.

But Michelle never missed a beat. She continued in her committed way to sooth the knots from my body and sorrow from my soul. I’m not one to miss a metaphor, so I thought about this. Life does this to us all the time doesn’t it? Turn up the noise that is. We create the setting, candles, music, poetry and we make a commitment to nourish our spirit and sure enough the leaf blowers show up. Sometimes they are loud and obnoxious, other times just a constant din that can’t be ignored. The noise of life is inevitable. If I wait for a quiet scripted moment to take care of my needy spirit, I’ll never get there. And if I let the noise sway my intentions, well then I miss out don’t I? And what of those hands that never missed a beat? Are there always such “hands” in the midst of the noise? Does this divine world offer such constant assurance? I believe it does, but it’s not necessary to block the noise in order to feel the promise. The trick really is to trust the promise smack-dab in the middle of the noise.

So with the massage over, I thank Michelle, make another appointment and wander out into the rest of my life. The lawn mowers are packing up their trucks and for a moment I laugh at the thought that they are going to follow me home. But I just return their friendly wave and silently thank them for the gift of noise.

The Meadow, by Carolyn Coit Dancy

THE MEADOW

Beyond the barn lies the meadow.

The meadow slopes

down hill to Queset Brook

and the pasture where

sheep once grazed.

Here grasses tickle my legs

the gurgling brook makes me laugh

birds sing their hearts out

just for me.

From the footbridge

I toss sticks into the stream

wishing a long journey

for them and for me.

Across the bridge

a whale-sized rock

left by retreating glaciers

begs me to sit and be still.

I stay a very long time.

Here, alone but not lonely

a feeling of connectedness

comes entirely unbidden.

I am part of everything.

Cherished memories

of those childhood days

compel me now to praise

nature's precious gifts.

Queset Brook still flows

through the meadow and

I return there often

by writing stories.

Writing the stories

only I can tell -

inviting others to explore

the world beyond their door.

Reflections at the end of Wellspring

At the final session of our Wellspring group, each participant brought something of meaning to reflect on the year's work together. Several offerings have been posted here already – Kim's lovely blessing for our group, Melissa's comprehensive reflection on learnings she's taken away from the program. Carolyn's poem "The Meadow" will be posted next week.

The reflections honor our Unitarian Universalist heritage in their individuality, their thoughtfulness, their commitment to living deeply and well in our faith. It seems fitting to share them with others in the Wellspring community through the blog. I am grateful for the time we've had together in this group – ten months of sharing our souls, our personal stories, our love and laughter and joy. We move onward in our different paths now, nourished by one another. May we all continue to love one another and to live with joy.

Libby Moore

An amalgamation of learning and truths, by Melissa Blackstone

Wellspring

An amalgamation of learning and truths

Melissa May 2008

 

Questions & Discovery

 

Grace & Equity in the midst of torture

Evil as distance from the worth of self and others

 

UU choice as emancipation and burden: thanks William Channing!

Listen: Way OPEN

 

 

Accountability for action= Social responsibility

"The inner journey, pursued faithfully & well, always takes us back to the world of action"

 

 

STRIVING: we are part of life; we co-create the reality in which we live

We are vessels and instruments of God

 

Notice JOY

 

Be still, and LISTEN

The still, small voice

 

Refute the refuge and ego of intellectualism

Opinions are self serving, and stifle others' inner teachers

 

Spiritual direction: A compass to my soul

Spiritual practices: I think I can, I think I can

 

Universalism

Humanism

Process Theology: Everything is connected…..STRIVE

Transcendentalism

 

Spiritual Awakening

Thoreau

Emerson

Yoga: Connoisseurs of the state of wonder

 

CalvinismàPuritanism

 

Servetus: a heretic

 

They died for what we take for granted

A Blessing as We Part

Blessed be your journey

along the stony path only your soul knows

Let longing crack your world open

so that belonging

and joy

are companions to your howling dog heart

 

May you hold the friendship of your soul

steadfast as the cardinal upon her eggs

Treasure its shyness

protect and guard

its secrets

listen for its whispers echoes and sighs

 

Blessed be your work in the world

in your family and community

May your gifts shine

and flow

and burst and bubble

from the wellspring of your living heart

 

May you be in right relation

with all of life's messy creation

That which frightens

those who repel and attract

are messengers

from the great beyond and the holy within

 

As you sit in silence

or walk or run or sing

May you feel the presence

of your fellow travelers

meeting your heart

in the wild garden of pulsing sacred space.

 

 

 

                    Kim Palma

                    5-16-08