Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Messenger

My work is loving the world.
Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird -
       equal seekers of sweetness.
Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.
Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.

Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?
Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect?  Let me
       keep my mind on what matters,
which is my work,

which is mostly standing still and learning to be
       astonished.
The phoebe, the delphinium.
The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.
Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,

which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart
       and these body-clothes,
a mouth with which to give shouts of joy
       to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,
telling them all, over and over, how it is
       that we live forever.

-Mary Oliver

Thirst

Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have.  I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons.  Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the
hour and the bell; grant me, in your
mercy, a little more time.  Love for the
earth and love for you are having such a
long conversation in my heart.  Who
knows what will finally happen or
where I will be sent, yet already I have
given a great many things away, expecting
to be told to pack nothing, except the
prayers which, with this thirst, I am
slowly learning.

-Mary Oliver

Monday, May 28, 2012

To Understand the World

And the children said unto Halcolm, "We want to understand the world.  Tell us, O Sage, what must we do to know the world?"

"Have you read the works of our great thinkers?"

"Yes, Master, every one of them as we were instructed."

"And have you practiced diligently your meditations so as to become One with the infinity of the universe?"

"We have, Master, with devotion and discipline."

"Have you studied the experiments, the surveys, and the mathematical models of the Sciences?"

"Beyond even the examinations, Master, we have studied in the innermost chambers, where the experiments and surveys are analyzed, and where the mathematical models are developed and tested."

"Still you are not satisfied?  You would know more?"  "Yes, Master, we want to understand the world."

"Then, my children, you must go out into the world.  Live among the people of the world as they live.  Learn their language.  Participate in their rituals and routines.  Taste of the world.  Smell it.  Watch and listen.  Touch and be touched.  Write down what you see and hear, how they think and how you feel."


"Enter into the world.  Observe and wonder.  Experience and reflect.  To understand a world, you must become a part of that world while at the same time remaining separate, a part of and apart from."


"Go then, and return to tell me what you see and hear, what you learn, and what you come to understand."

Simplicity

Simplicity of life is concerned with our relationship to things.  But at the heart of its meaning is the relatedness of persons.  It is positive and blessed because it is grounded in the right order of valuing persons over objects.

We travel light enough so that the goods of the earth may be enjoyed and celebrated by all.  We travel light enough so that we ourselves may be for persons, rather than expend our lives collecting, maintaining, and replacing objects.

In simplicity, we are empowered to see the destitute, to share of our abundances, to ease the dehumanizing poverty that cries out to us.  It enables us to give freely, to be more equitable.  It frees us to engage in the injustices of the world, which are often the source of personal degradation.  It makes us less fearful to put our own security at risk.

Simplicity gives us time for each other and for intimacy and friendship.

Simplicity is as related to love as it is to justice.  It is freedom from compulsive addictions and entrenched escape mechanisms.  It is liberty to see ourselves anew and to disengage from the comforts that blind us to the face of the poor.

It unfetters us, that we might play in and savor the moment, that we might give thanks and sing appreciation.

It can unlock us, finally, that we might do bold things, that we might more fully be women and men, not for things, but for people.

-John Kavanaugh, S.J.