Wellspring: inspiration and guidance for a spiritual journey

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.