“Joy can spring like a flower even from the cliffs of despair” wrote author and aviator Anne Morrow Lindbergh. Is it possible? Can joy ever spring from the cliffs of despair?
I remember despair emerging as I heard responses by government officials when military-style guns were used in school shootings, at concerts, in synagogues / temples / churches, at sports events, in malls: “It’s too early – we don’t have all the facts” … “Now is not the time.” It’s a fact that military-style guns are used in mass shootings. If “now” is not the time, when will it be?
When the U.S. Constitution was signed, the weapon referred to was a rifle that could shoot 1-2 rounds per minute. The gun used in many shootings (A-15 style firearm) fires 45 rounds per minute! Why legalize such firearm? Get rid of them – learn from other countries like Australia which changed its laws in 1996. When that country enacted strict gun laws, there were no further mass shootings. Not one!
There is evil in the hearts of those who won’t support strict, enforceable gun laws. There is evil of the hearts of politicians who do nothing to protect human beings, but rather increase their investment portfolios by investing in the manufacture of military-style guns, and mumbling phrases about they didn’t want to lose their guns. No one is talking about the loss of guns for hunting, self-protection. It’s about the use of military-style guns.
The word “evil” doesn’t stop with politicians or with those who won’t support enforcing gun laws against military-style guns. The evil has spread as signs appeared at college campuses that read “Women are Property!” … as young men harass girls and young women with frightening shouts of “Your body. My choice!”
Evil. So why does this ‘Soulistry’ reflection speak of flowers?
Flowers have long been understood as one of the most recognized signs of love. I will always choose the path of love. I have been making and sending Fabric Flowers like these to those who are trying to find peace and joy in the midst of evil … and because I want to stand up for love – not evil. As our postal system is on rotating strikes, I’m no longer sending Fabric Flowers in person. Instead, I’m sending emails with a photo of the Fabric Flowers – as a visible sign. A visible sign of love. A visible sign of prayer. A visible sign for courage and support. A visible sign that there are people who stand with them, support them, love them.
Can “joy spring like a flower even from the depths of despair”? It can. But for that to happen, evil must be named.
Some Christians claim that what is happening is “God’s will.” I ask “what kind of God would sanction evil?” No the man known a Jesus. Jesus confronted and named evil, long ago. We must name evil today.
Along those lines, here’s something to think about … when the letters: E V I L are reversed, they become L I V E. Evil must be named, confronted and challenged so change can happen and all can l i v e.
As with all ‘Soulistry reflections, you are welcome and invited to share this with others and send a photo of the Fabric Flowers (or make your own!) with your own personal message. May joy spring like a flower – even from the depths of despair.
It appears unexpectedly. … wears different costumes. … sometimes puts a smile on our face. … often brings sadness to our heart. … is not predictable either in timing or outcome.
Today and the coming days, weeks and months, grief is being and will be felt – personal losses, political losses, relationship losses
We need to acknowledge the presence of grief. We need to give it, its space.
As the ebb and flow of grief finds its way into your life may a gentle warm shaft of healing light wing your way, encouraging you to remember … “You are stronger than you think you are.”
And in the meantime, remember to breathe remember to be gentle remember to be kind to yourself.
As part of our national recognition of Remembrance Day each year in Canada on this day, November 11th, we sing “O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.” Over the years, women and men have stood “on guard,” defending borders and peacekeeping far away from Canada. They’ve been deployed on Operation Presence, Operation Crocodile, Operation Jade, and Operation Soprano, in Mali, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, South Sudan, and the Middle East defending borders in a variety of ways around the world in battles, skirmishes, wars.
Some returned home emotionally overwhelmed by what they have experienced. Some returned home physically disabled, addicted, in physical pain. Some returned home unable to find employment or housing. Some did not return home.
Each year on November 11th, we stand still. We stand still to remember their sacrifice and that of their families. We stand still for a very short moment in time, on one day of the year, while the families of the fallen stand and live with the pain of it all 365 days a year.
I was reminded of all of that as our car passed a house and I noticed, clearly visible from the street, the photo of a young man in uniform in a frame in the living room window.
It was just a photo, that’s all. Just a photo. Or was it?
What was it about that photo that grabbed at my heart? What was it about that photo that created a deep chasm in my soul? What was it about that photo that brought tears to my eyes and gripped my chest so I couldn’t breathe? “It” couldn’t be named. I only knew that my soul had been touched.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the salute. The car’s driver saluted the photo quietly, quickly, calling no attention to himself. For an ever-so-brief moment, the car’s driver was in another world … a world that connected him to this young man … a world that united them as siblings of conflict … a world that reminded him of the fragility of life and the happenstance of circumstance.
In the photo, a young man of eighteen or so. In the car, a man old enough to be the young man’s grandfather. And yet, for that one brief moment, they were brothers.
Salutes happen – some place – every day – on every land – in every continent. This salute … was different.
May we salute those who have served, sacrificed, suffered. May we salute those who served and still suffer in physical pain; in emotional pain; who deal with homelessness, unemployment, addiction, relationship break-up, depression, PTSD.
May our salute to them be translated into compassionate laws and practical ways to help all who have served and are still serving in conflict situations and in peacekeeping situations.
Thank you, all who have served. Thank you, all who are now serving. Thank you, to those who are about to serve.
Photos of “Wire Soldiers” ghosts of soldiers silently standing over their graves in the St John’s Churchyard, Slimbridge, U.K. More can be read about this project: https://www.bbc.com/news/uk-england-gloucestershire-46155057
Photo taken at the Cenotaph in Duncan, British Columbia, Canada
Photo (used with permission) of Canadian Scottish Regiment Association Band, Canadian Armed Forces (Army) Piper, Bill Buckingham, who piped for the Remembrance Day ceremony for St. Michaels University School, Victoria, British Columbia for over 35 consecutive years! Thank you, Bill, and all other pipers for your service.
Fragility … the quality of being broken, damaged, delicate, vulnerable, wounded, weak. These days, many want to live in a world that is healthy, durable, safe and strong. They don’t want to live in a world that is fragile. Many want to be perceived and perceive themselves as healthy, durable, strong and resilient. They don’t want to perceive themselves as fragile.
But, life can be fragile. * Some leaders ignore the people they serve and instead, serve their personal greed and lust for power. * Weather changes result in … breathing difficulties … homes being damaged or razed … people, animals, crops being injured and destroyed * Killing of children happens … in classrooms … on the streets … in grandparents’ back yards … at concerts … churches … shops … * Unexpected health issues erupt and lives … finances … relationships are disrupted. * People of all ages live in fear of reprisal, prejudice, discrimination, ICE agents, revenge. * The pandemic was real: people died and long-haul health issues are on-going for many. * Wars continue with inexplicable horrors and devastating consequences. Fragility.
Life can be fragile because … people don’t listen … feelings are hurt … relationships end … misunderstandings happen … trust is eroded. Fragility. Life can be fragile because the voice of reason is silenced by … greed … ambition … desire for personal power … egotism … revenge. Fragility. Democracy begins to fade. Fragility. Grief causes hearts to break. Fragility. But … fragility isn’t always negative / bad.
Fragility can be seen as … resilience … possibility … hope … strength. Think of the heart. It pumps blood through the body every moment … every single day of life. Hearts are strong and resilient. We are, too. Think of the eggshell. It can be easily broken. But put a raw egg, in its shell, in the palm of a hand and squeeze. Even under pressure, eggshells are strong. We are, too.
The “I-don’t-know-what-it-is object” (less than one inch in circumference) in this image (which unexpectedly appeared in my garden while I was weeding), was delicate, strong, tiny, beautiful … like spun-gold. Fragility.
As evidenced by the egg, the heart, and this “spun-like-gold-I-don’t-know-what-it-is” object, we need to take comfort and realize that out of fragility, there is hope! Especially in these oh-so-difficult days.
Mindful that others have lived in difficult and fragile times before us (war, plague, violence, corruption), we can be hopeful … even if only for a moment. And then – we can be hopeful for another moment … and another … and another. Survival in the midst of fragility IS possible.
Fear. It’s palpable. And it’s growing … and growing … and growing.
Fuelled by conversations, social media and political actions it is a word that resonates and leaves little space for anything other than fear.
What to do? We could let the fear grow and grow until physical, emotional and spiritual paralysis sets in.
Or, we could transform our understanding of fear, and our approach to it into hope and F ace E verything that is A gainst R eason
with
H ealing O penness and P ossibilitie, by and for E veryone
Will changing our approach to a single word bring about change? … change in our actions, our attitudes, our abilities to cope?
How will we know … if we don’t try?
When fear attacks may we Face Everythingthat is Against Reason (FEAR) with Healing, Openness and Possibilities of peaceful action and response by and for Everyone. (HOPE)
This weekend, I went to church … ‘Garden Church’. What’s “Garden Church”? Mmmm, well, if a church is a place for worship, and worship is an expression of praise, reverence, joy and thanksgiving, then surely a garden with flowers and bees, colour and birds, fruit and grass, trees, bushes, and even bugs and weeds can be a place of worship.
And if so, surely an encounter with Garden Church can nourish the soul, nurture a sense of deep gratitude, and be a gentle reminder of the gift of creation and the miracle of birth, growth, life.
Garden Church … can be sacred and holy … and offer an opportunity for reflection, worship, praise, healing, thanksgiving, prayer, joy – gentle, spiritual growth.
Over the years, I’ve found Garden Church “calling” to me on sunny days as I take it all in … whether it’s a back yard, a rented veggie bed in a community plot, a deck with flowers/veggies in planters with colourful flowers, bees, burgeoning strawberries, fruit trees, bugs, shrubs, weeds, silence, shining sun, gentle warmth … sweet peace.
And not just sunny days! Garden Church can “call” on overcast and rainy days as one takes a walk around the neighbourhood, listening to the calls of the birds, the chatter and joy of the children, enjoying the beauty of flowers and plants in the front yards of my neighbours. I love it when Garden Church is enriched by nourishing rain, gently watering the plants, grass and flowers in the garden (like these pansies), and bringing beauty to my day.
Garden Church … thank you. You deepen my appreciation of nature. You nourish my understanding of the created order. You deepen my sense of spirituality in ways that touch my soul. And you bring an awareness of the blessings around me in ordinary ways, often when and where I least expect them.
Truly, I am blessed when I experience Garden Church.
In these difficult days when peace and tranquility, calm and joy can seem to be difficult to access, may we make time in some way to experience Garden Church.
If … news from the political scene leaves you feeling hopeless fires and floods threaten your home the lack of availability of vaccinations against measles, Covid etc. deeply concerns you climate control has you worried for future generations you are feeling frightened, unsafe, worried about the future because of personal health, relationship issues, financial situation, politics let others carry you in their prayers. But, what if you don’t believe in prayer? Then how about thinking of ‘prayer’ as ‘love’ and let others love you … be there for you … listen to you … march in protest … write letters … speak up so that “we can be – will be – each other’s strength.”
A gentle walk along a rural path brought forth images of summers long ago when a swing under the huge cherry tree in our back yard provided countless hours of relaxation and fun for one little boy – my son.
As he swung, his feet would move back and forth to maintain a rhythm, and he would hum, hum ever so quietly to himself. He was content with life. Content with himself. Happy. His world was peaceful, safe, gentle.
But for countless children around the world, their world is anything but peaceful, or safe or gentle. And they are anything but content or happy.
That’s not fair. That’s not right. That’s not the way the Universe is supposed to unfold. And it not only saddens me, it makes me angry.
So I dream.
I dream of a time when all children are safe from abuse.
… when soon-to-be parents take parenting classes when they first discover they are expecting a baby.
… when children go to school where they will learn the basics of language, mathematics, science, history, civics, geography, social responsibility, and where they will be exposed to physical education, the arts and play.
… when children arrive to school well-fed, and ready to learn.
I dream of a time when parents are offered support when they need it.
… when teachers are respected, well paid, and supported.
… when children are safe safe at home, safe at school, safe in their communities, safe from ICE.
I will continue to dream.
And I will act … by exercising my right to vote and vote for candidates to provide laws that protect, educate, nourish and nurture children so that they can live with clean air, clear water, nourishing food, safe homes / schools / communities, responsible parents, and freedom.
For almost four decades, I have loved Reginald. Over the years, some people have told me that Reginald is plain, ordinary, ugly.
Sure, … his legs are bowed. … his arms are pudgy. … his ears are big. … his body is out of shape. … his eyes bulge. … his ears are large – very large. … he’s the size of a three year old and his clothes are all hand-me-downs. … his neck is short and almost non-existent. His mouth is – well … “not typical.”
But to me, Reginald is lovely. He is a reminder to me about Margaret Wolfe Hungerford’s famous words: “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
Why do we allow society to dictate what is beautiful … of value … worthwhile … and what is not?
Reginald speaks words that penetrate deep to the heart of the hearer He makes me laugh He listens with intentionality and concentration He … There’s just sooooo much that I love about Reginald. Ugly? Not at all! Reginald is a delight. He helps people forget their worries and fears. He brings smiles to their faces. He loves children – and they love him.
One Christmas Eve, Reginald appeared in the pulpit of a church … literally “in” the pulpit, sitting on top of the lectern. People listened. People learned. People loved. In him, people saw beauty.
Reginald is not a human being. He was created in a day-long puppet-making workshop. When I had sewn on his last arm and began to put clothes on him, other participants laughed. They said he was ugly and that my creation was “anything but creative or artistic.” They were wrong.
I look at Reginald and I see beauty. I look at my family and I see beauty. I look at my neighbourhood and I see beauty. I look at my friends and I see beauty. I look at this world and I see beauty.
Why do we allow society to dictate what is beautiful, of value, worthwhile … and what is not? Why do some people have difficulty seeing themselves as a precious child of the universe who is blessed – who has gifts to share … beauty to reflect … intelligence to use … wisdom to impart and at the same time, much yet to learn? The Creator does not make junk.
The Creator makes beauty. Reginald helps me remember to look at the world and all who inhabit it, in a special way.
Beauty. It is all around. We just need eyes to see.
Thank you, Reginald, for helping us all see beauty.
Long ago, Roman Emperor Marcus Aurelius was born. Considered to be one of the most important Stoic philosophers, Aurelius penned these words: “When you arise in the morning, think of what a privilege it is to be alive: to breathe, to think, to enjoy, to love.”
The world seems to be going crazy on so many levels. It would be easy to give way to the fear, the anger, the hopelessness, the racism, the hatred.
It would be easy …. but I refuse to give power to evil.
Today, I awoke. … I am grateful.
Today, I awoke. I could breathe. … I am grateful.
Today, I awoke. I could think. … I am grateful.
Today, I awoke, I enjoyed something. Many things. … I am grateful.
Today, I awoke. I loved. … I am grateful.
Each day, may we waken and find something each day … no matter how small for which we are grateful.
I picked these flowers from my garden. I am grateful for them and I am grateful that today, I awoke.
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