Seasons of the Soul

Quotable Quotes

Tielhard de Chardin, the French Roman Catholic philosopher, said, “Some day, after we have mastered the wind, the waves, the tides, and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of Love. Then, for the second time in the history of the world, we will have discovered fire.”

 

If we can really understand the problem, the answer will come out of it, because the answer is not separate from the problem.   --J. Krishnamurti

 

Three Rules of Work: Out of clutter find simplicity; From discord find harmony; In the middle of difficulty lies opportunity.    --Albert Einstein

 

Dreams pass into the reality of action. From the actions stems the dream again; and this interdependence produces the highest form of living. --Anais Nin

I Am the Man

by Rev. Jill Honodel

 

There once was a man who was the Baker in town. Everyone loved his bread and he became very popular.  Eventually, he became the King’s Baker and spent his days waking up while everyone else was asleep and making the very best breads in the kingdom.  He was invited to all the houses in the village for dinner as people hoped he would bring along his bread to share.  He was very proud of his position in life and his success. He liked that everyone knew him and bought something from him all the time.  He liked that he was the King's Baker.  He ate samples from ALL the breads he made each day. The man was quite stout, and he was full of himself.

One day, he was walking home from a neighbor’s house and even though he had just eaten a very good meal, his stomach began to rumble, and he couldn’t wait to get back to his bakery to nibble on some of his own delicious bread. 

Down at the end of the street was a woman whose husband had just died and she had a little boy with her.  A man name Zachery had compassion on her and gave her the one loaf of bread he had. She gave it to the little boy to nibble on as they walked home.  As the Baker was daydreaming about his own bread, suddenly he began to smell a beautiful aroma getting stronger as he walked down the street, and then he saw the bread being carried by the boy.  He could not see that the boy was skinny and starving, he did not notice that the mother was wearing black mourning clothes, he only had his eyes on the bread.  And as they passed one another the little boy was trailing behind his mother, the Baker quickly took the bread out of the boy’s hands and walked around the corner, happily chewing on the bread, and feeling very happy with himself. 

The boy cried, and the mother and  child had nothing to eat.  But the Baker went back to his Bakery and finished the loaf, and sat there on his baker’s chair looking around at what a life he had made for himself, patting himself on the back for how successful and well known he was, and thought to himself, I am the Man!  While the Baker was gleefully reviewing his success, a man walked into his bakery named Zachery. 

Now Zachery had been fuming because he had seen the baker snatch the bread from the little boy, and he had all kinds of terrible thoughts about how to take vengeance on the Baker, but after he calmed himself down, Zachery decided to tell the Baker a story. 

He said that he knew of a woman whose husband had died and that she was starving as she now had no income and was left with a little son to care for. The two had only each other and no food except for a loaf of bread to eat, but even that was taken from them by a gluttonous old man who had everything a man could want, but wanted more because he was not satisfied with having everything.  Hearing the story, the Baker got angry and said to Zachery, That gluttonous old fool should be brought before the judge and thrown into jail.  And Zachery looked him straight in the eye and said, You are the man! 

And the Baker reflected upon the events of his day and remembered how much he had enjoyed eating even more bread than usual on his way home, and where he had gotten it.  He realized that he had everything given to him and now he was taking from a starving boy and his mother.

From that day on, whenever the Baker heard his stomach growl, he would pick up a loaf of bread and save it for the widowed woman and her son, and he had a new kind of satisfaction thinking to himself, I AM the Man.

Fences

Recently our neighbors decided to do a complete makeover of their landscape, and in the process asked if we could tear down our mutual fence because it was rotting. Even though I didn’t particularly want to have the expense of a new fence, I didn’t want to create an issue or make their project less enjoyable for them. So, the day came when the fence was torn down, and suddenly what had appeared as a very distinct space became just part of a larger piece of land. What had been isolated by a fence was no longer so. We had torn down the divider that defined yours and mine, and for a few days it became we and ours. It was a very interesting experience. When I went out in the morning, they might also be out. Rather than not seeing them and not saying anything, we began to chat and exchange ideas on what was going to be planted on their side, and what was on ours. Boundaries had been eliminated, and it gave an entirely different perspective to the properties and the illusion of division.

The new fence went up, and is beautiful. I’m so glad we did it. But I’m also glad we experienced the shift in perspective by having the removal of a barrier to what is undivided from a different vantage point, and have forged a much more relaxed and mutually appreciative relationship with our neighbors who are no longer "them" over there, but part of "we" right here.

Thoughts To Ponder

 

"Let's choose today to quench our thirst for the 'good life' we think others lead by acknowledging the good that already exists in our lives. We can then offer the universe the gift of our grateful hearts."

~Sarah Ban Breathnach
Author of Simple Abundance

 

One may defeat  thousand obstacles and adversaries yet he who defeats the enemies within is the noblest victor.  Shaky Amuni

 

The way is not in the sky. The way is in the heart. --Buddha

The Greenest Highschool in America

Cleaning up the planet starts with cleaning up our homes and communities. The kids at Irvington Highschool in Fremont, California, are on a mission to do just that. They have won The Greenest School in America award, and show ways that we can determine what is garbage and what may be used differently through composting and recycling. 

http://www.dailygood.org/more.php?n=3949

Seasons of Interest

When I was younger, I loved to dance. In my twenties and early thirties, if I was not dancing every weekend, I thought something was radically wrong. Parties were fun, and I loved decorating, cooking, and doing all the things that went into making beautiful and imaginative large gatherings.

As I got older, I was more interested in meeting with friends in smaller groups, having an opportunity to talk about things that were more meaningful and gave us time to truly interact with one another rather than just having small talk in a large party setting.

At another age, I found myself no longer interested in entertaining. I appreciated going for a cup of coffee, or to a meeting. But parties and get togethers just for the sake of seeing people was no longer something I cared to do.

I am in my sixties now, and I'm finding other changes in my interests and desires. My life is much less social and much more internally focused. Yet, as is my way, I note that just because this is how I am evolving, the rest of the world is doing its own thing in its own way, and all of it is good.

We tend to think that what we are doing is the thing everyone else ought to be doing or what they would enjoy, but it is decidedly not so. One man’s season of quiet is another’s passion for free form dancing or gliding or playing or social unrest, or any other form of expression that life offers.

We have our seasons of interests, and they change. And there is nothings right or wrong in that…merely an indication that our focus is otherwise engaged. And as we accept shifting interests in ourselves and others, we participate in allowing each person to express according to their own season, respecting our differences, and appreciating the diversity that is everywhere present in this magical exploration we call life.

From Seasons of the Soul Autumn print edition 2009

The Gift of Losses

 By Charles “Tom” Brown

In coming to prison I’ve learned the hard way how resistance to losses increases the suffering. Instead there has to be a kind of surrender. I’ve found that the degree of suffering is directly related to the degree of holding on. Most of us don’t let go of anything very easily.

A subtle part of this dance with loss is knowing and remembering that although my body is imprisoned, my heart and mind have a different kind of freedom. The most important thing I’ve learned in the last ten years is that even in the midst of a long prison sentence, there can be happiness, even joy.
Now to the tricky part: all of life is a blessing, a gift. For years I couldn’t call the loss of material goods and my freedom a gift. It felt like a curse, actually, something undeserved and unnecessary. It still feels like a curse some days, but there are gifts here, too. Losses remind us that we don’t have forever to take care of what matters most to us. In these years of doing what I could to help other inmates, my life has opened up like a flower and grace has come in a thousand ways like a cloud of butterflies on a summer’s morning.

So loss is a dance, an admonition, a curse, a blessing. I would not wish it on anyone. Nonetheless, here I am. How can I not bow down to it? It has humbled me and stripped me bare; it has given me my true life.

Stress

 

A lecturer when explaining stress management to an audience, raised a glass of water and asked 'How heavy is this glass of water?' Answers called out ranged from 20g to 500g. The lecturer replied, 'The absolute weight doesn't matter. It depends on how long you try to hold it. If I hold it for a minute, that's not a problem. If I hold it for an hour, I'll have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you'll have to call an ambulance. In each case, it's the same weight, but the longer I hold it, the heavier it becomes.'

He continued, 'And that's the way it is with stress management. If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later, As the burden becomes increasingly heavy, We won't be able to carry on. As with the glass of water, you have to put it down for a while and rest before holding it again. When we're refreshed, we can carry on with the burden.' 'So, before you return home tonight, put the burden of work down. Don't carry it home. You can pick it up tomorrow. Whatever burdens you're carrying now, Let them down for a moment if you can.' So, my friend, Put down anything that may be a burden to you right now. Don't pick it up again until after you've rested a while.   

 ~Author unknown

A Baby's Unconditional Love

We were the only family with children in the restaurant. I sat Erik in a high chair and noticed everyone was quietly sitting and talking. Suddenly, Erik squealed with glee and said, 'Hi.' He pounded his fat baby hands on the high chair tray. His eyes were crinkled in laughter and his mouth was bared in a toothless grin, as he wriggled and giggled with merriment.

I looked around and saw the source of his merriment. It was a man whose pants were baggy with a zipper at half-mast and his toes poked out of would-be shoes. His shirt was dirty and his hair was uncombed and unwashed. His whiskers were too short to be called a beard and his nose was so varicose it looked like a road map.  We were too far from him to smell, but I was sure he smelled.

His hands waved and flapped on loose wrists. 'Hi there, baby; hi there, big boy. I see ya, buster,' the man said to Erik.  My husband and I exchanged looks, 'What do we do?' Erik continued to laugh and answer, 'Hi.'  

Everyone in the restaurant noticed and looked at us and then at the man. The old geezer was creating a nuisance with my beautiful baby. Our meal came and the man began shouting from across the room, 'Do ya patty cake? Do you know peek-a-boo? Hey, look, he knows peek- a-boo.' Nobody thought the old man was cute. He was obviously drunk.

My husband and I were embarrassed. We ate in silence; all except for Erik, who was running through his repertoire for the admiring skid-row bum, who in turn, reciprocated with his cute comments.

We finally got through the meal and headed for the door. My husband went to pay the check and told me to meet him in the parking lot. The old man sat poised between me and the door. 'Lord, just let me out of here before he speaks to me or Erik,' I prayed.

As I drew closer to the man, I turned my back trying to sidestep him and avoid any air he might be breathing. As I did, Erik leaned over my arm, reaching with both arms in a baby's 'pick-me-up' position. Before I could stop him, Erik had propelled himself from my arms to the man.

Suddenly a very old smelly man and a very young baby consummated their love and kinship. Erik in an act of total trust, love, and submission laid his tiny head upon the man's ragged shoulder. The man's eyes closed, and I saw tears hover beneath his lashes. His aged hands full of grime, pain, and hard labor, cradled my baby's bottom and stroked his back. No two beings have ever loved so deeply for so short a time.

I stood awestruck. The old man rocked and cradled Erik in his arms and his eyes opened and set squarely on mine. He said in a firm commanding voice, 'You take care of this baby.'  Somehow I managed, 'I will,' from a throat that contained a stone.

He pried Erik from his chest, lovingly and longingly, as though he were in pain. I received my baby, and the man said, 'God bless you, ma'am, you've given me my Christmas gift.'  I said nothing more than a muttered thanks.

With Erik in my arms, I ran for the car. My husband was wondering why I was crying and holding Erik so tightly, and why I was saying, 'My God, my God, forgive me.'

I had just witnessed real love shown through the innocence of a tiny child who saw no sin, who made no judgment; a child who saw a soul, and a mother who saw a suit of clothes. I was blind, holding a child who was not.

--posted by rettak on Daily Good

God Is In Everything

A dear friend who is a minister was sharing her experience with homeless people recently, and it reminded me that more churches and individuals need to practice the teachings of being our ‘brother's keeper’, and it would be good to include the children in sharing ideas and things that could be done to help "the least of these among us". When we think of it, the homeless are a daily reminder of the opportunity to practice compassion and giving. And amongst them walks God.

I had two experiences at beloved Minerva Books where I worked that brought this very clearly home to me. One day a homeless man came in to the store. He was exhausted and asked if he could just sit down. We had nice overstuffed chairs and a fireplace that we used to have going in the winter, and as he sat there, we began to talk, and he came and sat next to me at the round table that was our counter, and I looked deeply into his eyes and saw that he was God. He was using a form that would go unrecognized...would even be shunned...and there was this glorious light and mind and Being. We hugged before he left   and the rest of my day was filled with joy.

The second event happened late into the evening close to closing time on another day. A young man came in barefoot and freezing, and asked if he could just use the bathroom and if he could sit for a minute. He was shaking and cold, and I saw that his feet were almost frozen. I ran to our kitchen where we had hot water and got paper towels and a large bowl that I filled with very warm water. I sat him down in one of our rooms with  the religious books from all traditions and bathed his feet. He cried and was so grateful, telling me he was trying to get to his sister's house, and just couldn't walk any further. One of our regular customers was in the store at the time, and he had a truck, so I asked him if he would take this fellow to the sister's house. He agreed, and put the young man in the back because he really did not smell very good...and he took him to the address and delivered him to his sister. He felt that this young man did not have long to live, and the story behind was probably a tragic one involving drugs, but we did our part that evening and showed up to give help to a stranger in need.

It isn’t always easy to reach beyond ourselves, but it is an opportunity we are given to practice the Presence of God. In the giving and sharing, it isn't what the intention of the one asking or needing is, it is the intention of the one who gives. That is all that matters. There may be charlatans out there, and there are, but the one who gives with a loving heart receives the blessing regardless. And when two or more are gathered in the name of Love, Compassion and Mercy, the world is made a better place.

From Seasons of the Soul Autumn print edition 2009