Cosmology, Mysticism, Photos, Reality, Religion, Spirituality

Peace

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Peace – that was another word for home. ~ Kathleen Norris                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     Photo (C) 2014 Mary Batson

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Another’s Perspective

Sharing the below post for the paragraphs not far down the page: Another’s perspective about the divine, and the idea of not letting God despair.

From Phila Hoopes’ Soul Paths blog and Deena Metzger’s collection of poems Ruin and Beauty, originally online 27.08.13 at http://www.soulpathsthejourney.org/the-divinity-of-the-speck/, it begins…

The Divinity of the Speck

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A few months ago, in a storm of grief over the way the world is going, I wrote to author/teacher/medicine woman Deena Metzger, “Knowing what you know, being sensitive to all you perceive, how do you not despair?” I have written previously in this blog of that question, and her answer – “Because I know that Spirit exists and that some of us are being guided and so we are doing what we are called to do and that has to be sufficient.  And because — I don’t want God to despair too.” – and the download of insights that resulted.

Reading that blog post, she responded to me with a quote from her book, Ruin and Beauty:
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“This is what I know: God is not steel or any of the indestructible alloys we have created. God is sandstone stretching up from deep in the earth to the roof of the sky. God is the same stone etched by two white rivulets we call current and waterfall, flowing endlessly, sweet and salt, carving the right and left hands whose names are also beauty and sorrow, so that every drop rives the four chambers of the great heart. This is eternal. The rising and the falling. The bitter and sugary. The burn and the poultice. Division and communion. It never ceases: dismay and hope, agony and forgiveness. These are the four directions that sun and moon mark for us and that day and night illuminate. This is what we call east, north, south, west, thinking we can walk one way or another and not succumb to windstorm, earthquake, volcano and drowning.
We want to be God in all the ways that are not the ways of God, in what we hope is indestructible or unmoving. But God is the most fragile, a bare smear of pollen, that scatter of yellow dust from the tree that tumbled over in the storm of my grief and planted itself again. God is the death agony of the frog that cannot find water in the time of the drought we created. God is the scream of the rabbit caught in the fires we set. God is the One whose eyes never close and who hears everything.”

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Cosmology, Reality, Religion, Spirituality
God of Many Faces - Culver, KS

God of Many Faces – Culver, KS

 
 

The familiar shape of the three-petaled fleur-de-lis has many different meanings, and is the symbol I have chosen to represent this blog, these words and thoughts and meanderings about the God of Many Faces that we are. Each time the form presents itself, it catches my attention – and it feels only right to share it with those who might share a resonance. One never knows where the divine will pop up – in broad daylight and darkness, along well-traveled highways or tucked away in hidden cul-de-sacs. Eyes open: We see it everywhere. Peace — mcb

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© 2015 Front Porch Rambles, Mary Batson
All rights reserved – especially the one to fly.
FrontPorchRambles.com

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Cosmology, Reality, Religion, Spirituality

Reflection

Kris Leigh House 1 Xmas Deco 001Not too long ago, I supported my writing and storytelling habit by working at a nursing home, designing activities to promote the physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing of those who called this unnatural place home. Slowing down each day as I arrived, adjusting to the speed of life inside those doors, was an incredible learning experience, while working with residents with Alzheimer’s brought its own humbling lessons.

The layout of the place was unique. It was small, intimate, from the outside appearing like two longish white ranch houses, identical, facing each other across a green expanse. The perfectly centered gazebo carried on the surreal illusion of balanced perfection.

One beautiful soul drew me even more than the others, so sweet and precious – she reminded me of my grandmother, always a lady, down to her freshly applied lipstick and pristine penciled eyebrows. And – get this – she used to be a pilot. Of course we connected! Bless her heart, this beautiful woman never knew where she was, what day it was, where her family was or when they would return. It was my job, along with the others, to keep her happy and smiling, reassured, as she lived in her world. It did no good to speak to her about reality – my truth meant nothing to her. To connect with Miz Mamie, as I’ll call her, I had to go completely into her world, and speak the words she needed to hear. It took time to gain her trust, to calm her fear, but finally she grew to know my face enough to wave and smile each time I’m come in the door.

One day as we walked down the hallway together, she happened to look out the window of “my home” where she was “just visiting” – and saw the other building, carbon copy of the one we were in. Sparkling in the sunshine, it looked inviting, a home made to order. She drew me to the window, excited – look, look, look at that beautiful house over there. We should go visit.

I agreed with her. It looked lovely. I’m sure very nice people live there, and they might even have a cake coming fresh out of the oven if we arrived at tea time (3PM, for those who are interested). Why, yes, we’d do that someday. But right now, let’s go play some music, shall we? Remember how we love to sing together?

We started down the hall again, and then I stopped in my tracks. Even now the memory of the thought that swept through my mind feels overwhelming.

This is exactly what happens when we look for God. We look out the window of our soul, gazing across that open expanse, and see the most beautiful things, the most welcoming places – out there – out there – out there. How wonderful it would be to visit. To claim that space as our own in some small way.

But the truth is, what we’re seeing is a mere reflection – a carbon copy of you. Of me. Of us together, peering out that window, arm and arm, in love with each other. As someone once said, like the nose on our face, our eyes can’t get any closer without the image appearing to move away – because we’re all the same thing. All the same beauty. It IS us. We are IT.

Such a beautiful memory. Such a beautiful woman. So grateful to have shared that moment with her, and for the teaching she inadvertently shone into my world.

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© 2015 Front Porch Rambles, Mary Batson
All rights reserved – especially the one to fly.
FrontPorchRambles.com

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Cosmology, Reality, Religion, Spirituality

Seeing God

IMG_6889Sometimes we get so caught up in our search for the Divine that we overlook the obvious. We buy into and adopt the persona of Seeker and overlook the reality of Found.

I looked for God, I looked for God, I looked for God? Don’t know about you, but I found God.

I see God every day – in the eyes of the person across from me. In the pinecones reaching down to brush my face as I walk to the car in the early morning light. In the rush of life along the highway: Live, live, live, pulse throbbing through car exhaust. In the rust that threatens, reminds of tightening, what happens when too little movement and too much water set in those areas of metal in our lives. I hear God in the sound of waves and in the sound of the wave maker. I taste God in the crispness of the air and the bite of dandelion greens. I touch God, hugs given and received – “He is not here, he is risen.”

Stop looking in the graveyard. That time is past. Find the needle where you lost it. In the sunrise, in the sunset. On the playground, on the swingset, playing hopscotch up the tree of life.

Didn’t you know?

In joy, in pain, in sorrow. In laughter, in lightness, in love.

It’s all there, just waiting for me to open my eyes and finally, finally, finally see.

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© 2015 Front Porch Rambles, Mary Batson
All rights reserved – especially the one to fly.
FrontPorchRambles.com

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