by Liz | Jun 25, 2008 | main
Soul Music. World Music. Music of the Universe…
The opening measures of the cello repeat throughout the entire piece, like the eternal music of the soul. Deep, grounded, constant. And then the higher strings chime in and begin to move atop the solid foundation. They get lighter and more joyful until the notes are dancing and flying into the air.
This is music that induced a deep, meditative state in my. I can hear the cello anchoring me. Giving me rest. And from that deep place the other strings begin to vibrate. I feel the joy of being so grounded that I can dance and fly and laugh — all without fear. Anchored, and yet free to move and bloom.
How does that happen? The music is the most vivid image of Life in Christ to me. So grounded, so calm, so steady — It’s like the gospel from last Sunday: Be not afraid. I am with you. I will be there, eternal and loving. Go forth, and don’t be afraid. No matter what happens, good or bad, flat or sharp or right on key, I am here, under it all, constant but moving. Only fear that which can cut you off from this grounding, from your own soul. Now go forth to love and live and vibrate like the strings of the violin.
Soul music. World music. Music of the Universe…
by Liz | Jun 24, 2008 | main
I’ve been eratic about posting of late. I can make all manner of excuses: busy, busy, busy. Or not much to say. Or too much to say.
The truth is I’ve set some standards for myself that are sufficiently difficult to attain so they give me the opportunity to just not do anything because I don’t think I good enough. See, if I don’t do anything then I can’t be accused of falling short because there is nothing to measure.
Somehow, I don’t think Jesus is going to buy that argument. He tells us that “when I was hungry you fed me, when I was naked you clothed me…” (or you didn’t, as the case may be); He don’t see a qualifier on how well you feed someone or how fashionable and stylish the clothes were. It’s the acting out of love and doing something.
If you hang around here you might find some oddball stuff because when I woke up in the middle of the night with these thoughts about Jesus saying “Just do it because you love me” I decided I should do it. I also realize that the “because you love Me” has to be present. And I realize that knowing what to “just do” comes from knowing Jesus better. Knowing Jesus better happens through being still and listening (otherwise known as prayer) and being in that space where I am and God is.
It is about staying in the relationship — and understanding that my own rules about what is “good enough” must just simply go by the wayside. God is so much more loving and forgiving than I. Thank God!
by Liz | Jun 23, 2008 | main
Be still and know that I am God. A command to a prophet, a command to me. Of late, I have felt this call growing stronger and stronger.
It’s not to name God. Naming is good for control or some power over things. To name something, especially a fear, but also an idea or even a person gives us a handle on it. The unnamed fear is the thing of nightmares. In fantasy, to know a wizards name is to have power over him. And, I do try to name my fears so they cannot control me. This is not a call to name God. Just to be still and know.
To be still and allow myself to be. To rest. To allow the voices to blow past on the breeze.
There’s a running commentary in my head. I live a lot of my life inside. There exists inside my mind a whole universe. So, to be still, I have to turn a deaf ear to the running commentary on life. Eckert Tolle suggests stopping and asking “Am I still breathing?”
I will come to you in the silence… The opening line of David Haas’s song, “You Are Mine.”
You are a human BEING not a human DOING. Sam’s theme for the retreat day back in April.
In My Losing Season Pat Conroy talks about learning to go to that place inside where he was himself — like a room inside where he could be truly himself.
It’s not always easy to make myself settle into silence. It’s always worthwhile and always good, but I don’t get there nearly often enough. How to do it? (Oops, there’s that “doing” word again.)
I’ve heard the statement “Man made God in his image.” I’ve thought that was a bit on the blasphemous side at times. But, somehow, now it seems to be just an observation that leads me to a deeper love and awe of GOD. When we name something, we are putting it into a box so we can handle it. It gives us dominion over it in a way. I get the sense sometimes that there are those who think that they have God all wrapped up tidy in the Host at communion or adoration. Something manageable. Something controllable.
For now, I think I have to admit that not only is the Creator not controllable but also never completely knowable. How great is that! There’s always more to get to know and learn. But first, I have to begin by being still.
My Losing Season
by Liz | Jun 20, 2008 | main
There’s something living under a part of our deck – my guess is chipmunks, but I’ve never seen them. What I have watched is Gracie’s fascination with whatever is there. (Grace is a black mini-schnauzer) She stops suddenly, ears at attention, stub of a tail whirling like a helicopter. Then she pounces the deck in a move that I watched her predecessor use to rid our yard of moles. Pounce! Pounce! Listen. Sniff. Pounce!
Of course she can’t get through the wood of the deck. And, she hasn’t managed to dig in from the side. The space is low to the gound so she can’t squeeze herself in. But, she hears and senses that there is something very magical and interesting happening under there.
It always seems a good thing to become alert and aware and hear those quiet movements just out of reach. It seems a good thing to pay attention to them, even when it seems that I am blocked from full discovery by the wooden covering of everyday life and situations.
I don’t have a stub of a tail that can show my excitement, but I can be alive and aware and try to get through the barrier.
by Liz | Jun 18, 2008 | main
In Kings I there is the story of Elijah looking for the Lord to pass by his cave – there’s a fierce wind, but the Lord is not in the wind, then there is an earthquake that shakes the earth, but the Lord isn’t in the earthquake. After the earthquake is a great fire, but the Lord isn’t in the fire. Finally, there is a tiny whispering sound, and Elijah knows that is the Lord passing by.
For the past week, I’ve been trying to hear the whisper mostly by pausing and checking “Am I still breathing?” — in the quiet space that creates, I can sometimes hear the whisper. I can rest there and know that God is present. I discover the I am present in the moment.
What calm, what joy comes from those few seconds of resting in the Presence. It seems to permeate the rest of my day (granted, I’ve been doing this like once an hour for a week as it only takes a few seconds.) It’s a way to hear the music that “How can I keep from Singing?” refers to. It calls me to sing along long after the moment.
The hardest part is remembering to actually pause and listen. So far, it’s been well worth the effort.
