On Faith

February 13, 2013 at 3:58 pm (Inspiration, Spirituality, Uncategorized, Urban Living)
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I’m reminded time and time again that faith needs no religious affiliation.  If a Catholic cathedral or Buddhist reading or Hindu meditation or Jewish prayer ritual moves my Mennonite-ish soul, my faith is touched.

While taking an early photo-stroll this morning, I was struck by the majesty of the immense gold cross adorning the top of a local cathedral spire, raised high into the heavenly blue sky broken only slightly by wispy cloud swaths.

Then a different glint caught my eye, and I noticed the curls of barbed and razor wire in the foreground, evoking whispers of the crown of thorns so often shown on depictions of Jesus’s crucifixion.  Not an image that typically stirs me, yet somehow this morning it did.

razorwire_cross1

I couldn’t help but think that stunning contrast of the gently beckoning church spire splendor against the sharp warning of razor-studded barriers had a message for me, for us.

A reminder, perhaps, that no matter what we personally believe (or don’t), there are enough other people out there believing in some Higher Power that sanctuaries of worship are built  … places where they focus on the objects and concepts of their faith in order to soothe the cuts from some harsh realities of life.

Maybe, even on our days of little faith, we can be sheltered by this knowledge that others are gathered in worship, offering their beliefs to the world around them; in essence, believing on our behalf until we regain our faith.

Faith, whether in us or not, is always there… somewhere.

2 Comments

Lesson from a tree

January 30, 2013 at 12:00 pm (Inspiration, Relationship, The Gardening Life, Uncategorized, Urban Living)
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Throwing the door open, I dashed into the house and grabbed the closest cutting tool (thank heavens for that handy “junk drawer”).  My wife, on a conference call with her work folks, just nodded, totally unfazed as I waved a pocket knife and urgently whispered “I HAVE TO GO SAVE A TREE!”    Apparently she’s used to me.

I had been walking back from a dentist appointment, and was stopped by the beauty of sunlight glinting off the rich maroon bark of a cherry tree — once again enthralled by the colors and textures of nature.

Then I noticed the frayed knot of twine coming out of an unnatural ridge in one of the largest branches… and into another swollen scar around an opposite branch.

twine grown into tree

My heart exploded as I went into emergency landscaper mode.  

Cut.  I need to cut the twine.  Need to stop the pain.  Cut the twine.  Wait, first comfort the tree.

Yes, this stuff really goes through my mind.  But I did look around for observers before I gently touched the tree’s scars and whispered I’ll be right back.

So I dashed home, got a pocket knife, dashed back, and removed what I could of the twine.  Sadly, it wasn’t much.  Unable (of course) to remove the twine, the tree had simply grown around it — a fine temporary solution, but a possible death sentence.  

You see, magic goes on just under that bark. (If you want to be astounded, read about tree anatomy.  Seriously.).  Life-sustaining nutrients get transported and cells divide and baby trees eventually become substantial living shade and kid playground structures … not to mention oxygen-suppliers, pollution-trappers, stress reducers, and even healers (patients with views of trees heal faster. imagine!).

When twine chokes the bark, the tree responds by sealing off the wound, forming that callous you’ve all seen.  And the more wound, the more callous, and unfortunately, the less live, active stuff going on.  In other words, the tree’s capacity for life is diminished.   

So, the tree might live… or it might not.  The branch might die … or it might not.   But either way, the twine damage has been done, and those branches will remain weakened.  Sighhh.

What restrictions are you putting on yourself?  Is there an area begging for freedom so you can grow freely?

Maybe it’s time to cut your twine…   

5 Comments

Snow Globe It

November 30, 2012 at 11:07 am (Inspiration, Relationship, The Writing Life, Uncategorized, Urban Living)
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Routines are my friend.

They’re security and comfort and familiarity and forward momentum without wasting important brain power.

But man, some days I’ve just gotta shake it up.  When routine starts to feel more like bored or lazy or oh dear God GIVE ME SOMETHING DIFFERENT, it’s time to  upset the proverbial apple cart.  We need routine…. and we can thrive on change.

Like this morning.

This morning we were body- and mind-tired, so at 5:20am the gym lost out (don’t tell Trainer or Coach) to a little extra early morning coffee time, followed by an earlier start to the rest of the day.

Which meant I was walking to the coffee shop earlier than usual, which touched off a string of delights of DIFFERENT:

The not-quite-risen-sun light turned my regular walk into a photographer’s goldmine:

early morning light, northern liberties philadelphia

(click to enlarge)

The fresh-baked scones were JUST coming out of the oven. <swoon>

The coffee shop was empty enough to give space to conversations that were just connected and brief enough to jumpstart this introvert(ish)’s heart and mind:

  • with the cashier about (in his opinion) my perfect choice of a 2-shot Americano and warm scone on this beautiful yet cold day
  • with the barista about her cats and the overall joys of cat ownership (including their awesome snooty independent laziness)
  • with the owner about the new earthy-artsy book-like to-die-for gorgeous/creatively inspiring magazine (Kinfolk) they’re now carrying.  (Yes, I bought it).
  • with the patron upstairs who asked me for help with his latest “Words with Friends” challenge (“she ALWAYS wins, and I’m just NOT giving up this time!”)

So I realized just how cool it is to live in a place that affords me these moments of connection scattered in among my delicious independence and autonomy.

Which had me thinking about life’s huge small luxuries.

Which looped me back around to the memory of sitting outside last night in the dark and looking at the lit church steeple in the distance while the quiet of night held me as I remembered the night last year that I realized that actual darkness is an antidote (for me, at least) to my times of emotional darkness.  (Fight fire with fire?  The way out is the way in?).

Which connected me to the feeling of safety and inspiration and gratitude I felt a couple nights ago sitting in a cathedral among other word-lovers as I listened to Anne Lamott talk about life and faith and writing.

Which had me thinking about the conversation with my friend afterwards about what we’d talk about if we had 45 minutes, no notes, and a cathedral full of interested people (like Anne did)… and her answer that she’d talk about intuition… and my answer that I’d talk about the incredible details of life.

Like the ones I noticed this morning.

All because we shook it up today, then let it settle where it would. Like a snow globe. 

Shake it up. 

8 Comments

Look, Mom!

July 19, 2012 at 10:37 am (Relationship, Uncategorized, Urban Living)
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I’ve been missing Mom more than usual recently.  Reaching more often for the Star(la)bucks mug she gave me almost 20 years ago, hearing more often her chuckle in the back of my mind, seeing more often her crooked grin and chocolate-colored eyes mirrored in mine.

I think it’s because I never got the chance to show her “my” city, never got the chance to take the most grown-up me she never knew and say “Look, Mom! Look what delights we have here!”

It’s been long enough now (almost 2 years) that I’m forgetting the stresses of her failing health, the frustrations of her inattention, the gaps in her understanding of the things most important to me.

It’s been long enough now that I’m remembering mostly the thread of connection we DID have.

The way she and I both love a long brisk walk (she preferred malls, I prefer nature).

The way she and I both drop everything for coffee and a fresh baked good.

The way she and I both give in so easily to delight.

The way she and I both find healing, solace, and connection in the written word.

The way we both enjoy getting into (good-natured) mischief, playing hard with life and seeing how much we can get away with.

The way we both love silver rings (and the only one she wore was the guilty pleasure $20 band I bought her in place of the wedding band she never had. No jewelry… it was a Mennonite thing).

The way she and I both love beauty (even though I think she didn’t know quite how to feel it).

They say one of the most life-changing events in a woman’s life is the death of her mother.  I think I didn’t really GET that til recently, when I realized (with the wise insight of my wife) how much I wanted to show Mom our new home — even though I had long ago stopped sharing much of my life with her.

I think no matter what age we are, there’s a part in each of us (whether we know our mother or not, whether our Mom is still alive or not) that still needs to be able to say “Look, Mom!  Look what I did!“  and see her look proudly at us, smiling deeply, and with shining eyes say, “Yes, you sure did, my dear.  You sure did.”

But since Mom’s not (physically) here (and honestly, she wasn’t one to directly express her pride in me), I settle for a different experience — this one exquisitely ordinary:

As I pour creamer into my coffee each morning, I picture the two of us peering like mad scientists into the mug, grinning gleefully and saying “yep, that’s just about the perfect color” … me knowing Mom’s perfect blend is a little deeper brown, and Mom knowing mine is a little lighter.

I wonder if she’s noticed that recently I’ve been drinking mine darker…

16 Comments

Never stop seeing it

June 22, 2012 at 10:49 am (Inspiration, Mental Health, Spirituality, The Artist Life, The Writing Life, Uncategorized, Urban Living)
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“I don’t see it any more,” he says wistfully, filling the water jars at the coffee shop counter. “My job is to see anything that’s wrong here, so I don’t see the beauty here any more.”

I’ve been thinking about that recently — the niggling possibility that my fresh view of a new (to me) crayola-colored city life will eventually fade into gray-toned familiarity.

I want to never stop seeing the beauty of the city skyline (a city skyline!!!) in the early morning.

I want to never take for granted the view from the treadmill of the glassed-in 3rd-story gym, the careful presentation of architectural ingenuity fed to me so gently every morning.

I want to never stop noticing the way the fresh sleepy dawn light targets the golden cross on the church in the distance, nudging my heart to wake up on the verge of worship.

I want to always see the way the orange-infused sunrise slowly fills up the morning, reflecting off the distant clump of glass towers, sitting like a collection of precious crystalline forms promising a day of hope and magic.

I want to always notice the way the activity of a city morning reminds me I’m not alone in this world, even as I choose to carefully guard my own personal space.

I want to always pay attention to the way the historical exposed brick interior walls remind me of the continuity of life, the gift of building beauty into the future of those who come next.

I want to never stop feeling the lavish displays of compassion growing in the form of a small park garden, a tender co-creation between earth and the human regenerative spirit.

So I take photos.

And I stop (literally) to pay attention when something catches my eye.

And I crouch down in front of a puddle to see the reflection of a floating leaf from ground level.

And I indulge the stories in my mind of the ones who came before, and the ones who will come after.

And I write about it – in my journal, on scraps of paper, on post-it notes, in my head, and here.

Never stop seeing it… and don’t forget to start.

4 Comments

Honor the Fear, Live the Love

June 11, 2012 at 9:55 am (Inspiration, Mental Health, Spirituality, Urban Living)
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There was a shooting outside our apartment building this morning — one man injured, another dead.

Reading that, you’ll probably picture a particularly crime-ripe area of a city, but nope, not so — it’s a high rent guarded building, just across from the pool club, bordering a gorgeous plaza of sweet little shops and restaurants … complete with gardens and a water feature.  Feels almost like  cheating, to live in this little oasis, seemingly protected from the darker side of more “real” parts of the city.

I should probably also mention that a drug-related double-murder shooting happened in the lobby of this building 3 years ago.

I feel like I should be more freaked out by this.  Should want to bolt right out of the city back to my safe white picket fence (yes, we had one) suburban life.  But you know, the guy they arrested there for plotting to blow up a DC metro station lived just a block over from us.

It’s not necessarily safe anywhere.

So we have a choice – indulge the fear or live the Love.  

Indulge the fear and live a downsized, restricted, fear-riddled “life” or honor the fear by naming and acknowledging it, then live Love. 

This morning at the coffee shop, after hearing the disturbing events of the night, the barista says “Where’s Batman?  We need Batman!”  And in walks the dishwasher wearing a Batman tshirt.  ’Nuff said. 

“If you exist in a feeling of love — if you can find it in everything you do, transmit it through your touch, through your words, eyes and feelings — you can cancel out with one act of love thousands of acts of a lower nature.” ~ Sanaya Roman (from “Living With Joy“)

Fear is strong.  Love is stronger.  

Which do you choose?

10 Comments

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