Where the Mind is Without Fear by Rabindanath Tagore

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee
Into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

"A River Runs Through It"--Epilogue: "I am Haunted by Waters"

A wonderful movie, and an exquisite novella by Norman McClaren (that's him fishing) who, after retiring from a career of teaching others creative writing, decided to take a crack at it himself.

"Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive and go out and do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive."
(Howard Thurman)

INSTRUCTIONS by Sheri Hostetler, from the anthology A Cappella: Mennonite Voices in Poetry

Give up the world; give up self; finally, give up God.
Find god in rhododendrons and rocks,
passers-by, your cat.
Pare your beliefs, your absolutes.
Make it simple; make it clean.
No carry-on luggage allowed.

Examine all you have
with a loving and critical eye, then
throw away some more.
Repeat. Repeat.
Keep this and only this:
what your heart beats loudly for
what feels heavy and full in your gut.

There will only be one or two
things you will keep,
and they will fit lightly
in your pocket.

This past Lenten season had its own lesson plan. I was just beginning to learn how Buddhism, the original “self-help” plan, views life in the here and now, and looking to a quiet, contemplative Lent. Instead, I had to confront the very real and
wrenching event of my mom, Lillian, passing away. Although almost 94, she was in pretty good health until she slipped away from us over the course of a couple weeks. The family was blessed to be around her, holding her, talking to her, as she went home.

So Lent had things to teach me, to continue to teach me. No matter how esoteric theology becomes, it must ultimately stand the test of human experience or it will be discarded, and so it is with my musings here.

Lillian had some last things to teach me:

• How to accept the fact that as you get older-----“ridiculously” older, she would say----- death is inevitable; how to prepare for it with grace and humor.

• That life is more than breath, and breath is more than inhaling and exhaling. [My favorite C.S. Lewis quote: “You do not have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.]

• That when you’re through with your body, or it’s holding your spirit back, you “chuck it”, leave it behind, and get on with the journey.

• When we became aware that she had left us, I thought to myself, “So that’s how you do it. That’s how you leave it all behind.”

No doubt, in future postings, I’ll have a lot more to say about Lillian. Everything is still sinking in. I will never forget so many things about her.


NOTE: If you would like to hear LIllian praying in Polish, you can click on the link on the left side of this page under "Links and Shortcuts." I can't quite bring myself to listen yet. (Click on lillianmp3 if you have a hard time playing it.)

Due to the passing of a special woman of "beautiful uniqueness", I need to suspend this blog for a while. Blessings on your Holy Week and Easter.

On Hearing the Dies Iræ Sung in the Sistine Chapel (Author: Oscar Wilde)

Nay, Lord, not thus! white lilies in the spring,
Sad olive-groves, or silver-breasted dove,
Teach me more clearly of Thy life and love
Than terrors of red flame and thundering.
The empurpled vines dear memories of Thee bring:
A bird at evening flying to its nest,
Tells me of One who had no place of rest:
I think it is of Thee the sparrows sing.

Come rather on some autumn afternoon,
When red and brown are burnished on the leaves,
And the fields echo to the gleaner's song,
Come when the splendid fulness of the moon
Looks down upon the rows of golden sheaves,
And reap Thy harvest: we have waited long.

An act of love that fails is just as much a part of the divine life as an act of love that succeeds, for love is measured by its own fullness, not by its reception.

Harold Loukes

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant,
gorgeous, talented, fabulous?
Actually, who are you not to be?
You are a child of God.
Your playing small does not serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
so that other people won't feel insecure around you.
We are all meant to shine, as children do.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone.
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously
give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear,
our presence automatically liberates others."

a return to love - marianne williamson