The Art of Waiting

From my July Newsletter:
In last month's newsletter I wrote about contemplative living and the practice of slowing down and being present to what the late Trappist monk Thomas Merton referred to as the "spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life." (Click here to read the issue). Another aspect of contemplative living is practicing the "art of waiting." We live in a world driven by productivity, so the notion of waiting can feel uncomfortable and generate some anxiety within us. I was noticing this for myself recently after having come through a very fruitful time, artistically and intellectually (post graduate school). I wanted to keep the momentum moving; instead, my energy waned and my efforts in the studio came to naught. While I attributed part of this inertia to my despair over the Gulf crisis, I discovered that it was necessary for me to surrender, to rest in the unknown, and to wait. Instead of trying to push my agenda forward, I had to trust in Spirit...have faith in Divine Imagination. It was about this time when I was drawn back to Sue Monk Kidd's "When the Heart Waits: Spiritual Direction for Life's Sacred Questions." In a chapter entitled, Quickaholic Spirituality, she writes:

What has happened to our ability to dwell in unknowing, to live inside a question and coexist with the tensions of uncertainty? Where is our willingness to incubate pain and let it birth something new? What has happened to patient unfolding, to endurance? These things are what form the ground of waiting. And if you look carefully, you'll see that they're also the seedbed of creativity and growth.

This also brought to mind the poet Rainer Maria Rilke's advice in "Letters to A Young Poet." He wrote:

Have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.

Even though it can feel uncomfortable, even chaotic at times, the "art of waiting" (like gestation) is the natural state prior to giving birth. To our Self. To our art/creativity. To a new chapter in our lives. And collectively, giving birth to a new vision for humanity. For me, this is a vision grounded in our interconnectedness in the web of creation and our co-creating a world that works for all. We are living with much uncertainty these days but our spiritual leaders also speak of this time as a period of great transformation and that we are all part of this evolutionary process. The art of waiting...with patience and kindness towards Self...creates space for listening to the soul, discerning inner guidance, developing creativity, and answering the call towards healing ourselves and our world. So, the next time you feel overwhelmed that life isn't progressing as quickly, or in the way you had envisioned it might...surrender, wait, listen. And remember to breathe!

To sign up for my monthly newsletter, go to www.sacredartstudio.net

Hummingbird poem

Summer has finally arrived in the Pacific Northwest. The garden is bursting with color and the vegetables are singing with delight. Meditation in the garden this morning, watching the birds play and feed, the bees loving on the roses, listening to the birdsong, and reading Mary Oliver. Gratitude for life. Being present and inspired by Beauty. Look! says Mary Oliver. Look!

Hummingbird Pauses at the Trumpet Vine
-Mary Oliver

Who doesn't love
roses, and who
doesn't love the lilies
of the black ponds

floating like flocks
of tiny swans,
and of course the flaming
trumpet vine

where the hummingbird comes
like a small green angel, to soak
his dark tongue
in happiness--

and who doesn't want
to live with the brisk
motor of his heart
singing

like a Schubert,
and his eyes
working and working like those days of rapture,
by van Gogh, in Arles?

Look! for most of the world
is waiting
or remembering--
most of the world is time

when we're not here,
not born yet, or died--
a slow fire
under the earth with all

of our dumb wild blind cousins
who also
can't even remember anymore
their own happiness--

Look! and then we will be
like the pale cool
stones, that last almost
forever.

Contemplative Living

This is from my June newsletter. To sign up for my monthly newsletter, visit www.sacredartstudio.net

What does it mean to be a contemplative in the modern world? Most often people associate contemplative living with the austerity and isolation of a monastery. At one time, that was true. Although there are still monastic communities around the globe, many of today's contemplatives participate in the world but bring with them a deep sense of reverence for life, the Holy, into daily life. Like the mystics from all spiritual traditions, there exists an an awareness of the numinous presence that infuses every aspect of our lives. While Buddhist teachings and meditation guide me in deepening my awareness into the present moment, two teachers that also speak to me around contemplative living are Caroline Myss and the late Thomas Merton. In her book "Entering the Castle," Myss offers a guidebook for answering the call of the soul and she coins the phrase "Mystics without Monasteries" to describe this new way of being in the world. Click here for an excerpt from her book.

And in "New Seeds of Contemplation," Merton writes: Contemplation is the highest expression of man's intellectual and spiritual life. It is that life itself, fully awake, fully active, fully aware that it is alive. It is spiritual wonder. It is spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life, of being. It is gratitude for life, for awareness, and for being. It is a vivid realization of the fact that life and being in us proceed from an invisible, transcendent and infinitely abundant Source. Contemplation is, above all, an awareness of the reality of that Source. Click here for more on Merton.

Living a contemplative life doesn't require that we renounce the world but it does require choosing a new way of being in the world. Slowing down, unplugging from the technology (at least periodically), and learning to be with the silence in order to create space for encountering what Merton called the "spontaneous awe at the sacredness of life." Why is this important to those of us who live in the 21st century? As we know, we live in a fast-paced and enormously stressful world. Carving out time in our personal lives for contemplation can open up new possibilities that nurture our spiritual life, our creativity, our relationships (to each other and to the Earth) and bring more calm into our daily lives. I've walked the stressed-out, workaholic lifestyle and know that world, too. For all the uncertainty that may come with following my soul's calling, every day I wake feeling grateful...for life, for beauty, for this present moment...which is all we ever truly have.

I live much of my day in silence, except for the abundant birdsong coming in from the garden, but this may not be possible for those with the demands of family and workplace. So, where to begin if you are just starting out? I recently heard spiritual teacher August Gold interviewed and thought she had a great framework in starting a practice if you don't have one. She suggests beginning every day with 15 minutes in this way:

· 5 minutes reading inspirational materials
· 5 minutes journaling what is most alive in your heart
· 5 minutes of silent sitting (no TV, radio, computers!)

I would also add, 5 minutes of sketching, doodling, or collaging to tap into your creative source!

Radical Joy Ceremony on June 19

On Saturday, June 19th, a group of us in the Washington/Portland area met at a clear cut near Lake Merwin damn to honor Mother Earth and celebrate Beauty as part of the worldwide effort that was envisioned by Radical Joy for Hard Times. This is from their web site:

Radical Joy for Hard Times introduces a new, more intimate environmentalism for all citizens of the Earth. Together we go to wounded places to bear witness to what has happened, share the stories of our experience, discover beauty even in the midst of wound and waste, and create Acts of Beauty there.

Our local gathering was organized and facilitated by Judy Todd of NatureConnect Excursions and Julie Doll. Sacred space was created by prayer flags and silence as we walked into the clear cut area. Once there, with a stunning view of the valley, a drumming circle invited us in to being present to this holy land. With the discarded gun shells, the empty beer cans, the garbage, and the Beauty. During our time together we walked the land, sang together, shared our stories, drummed, read poetry, and made offerings to Mother Earth for her healing. We picked up trash (including a car fender) as you can see in the photo above. We bore witness to this wounded place and created radical Acts of Beauty. I was surprised to discover that although there had been violence perpetrated upon this hillside, there was life emerging amidst the ruins. The very smallest of creatures and wildflowers were finding there way back. This gave me hope. I brought this poem by Wendell Berry which always moves me to tears:

A Vision
by Wendell Berry

If we will have the wisdom to survive,
to stand like slow-growing trees
on a ruined place, renewing, enriching it,
if we will make our seasons welcome here,
asking not too much of earth or heaven,
then a long time after we are dead
the lives our lives prepare will live
here, their houses strongly placed
upon the valley sides, fields and gardens
rich in the windows. The river will run
clear, as we will never know it,
and over, birdsong like a canopy.
On the levels of the hills will be
green meadows, stock bells in noon shade.
On the steeps where greed and ignorance cut down
the old forest, an old forest will stand,
its rich leaf-fall drifting on its roots.
The veins of forgotten springs will have opened.
Families will be singing in the fields.
In their voices they will hear a music
risen out of the ground. They will take
nothing from the ground they will not return,
whatever the grief at parting. Memory,
native to this valley, will spread over it
like a grove, and memory will grow
into legend, legend into song, song
into sacrament. The abundance of this place,
the songs of its people and its birds,
will be health and wisdom and indwelling
light. This is no paradisal dream.
Its hardship is it possibility.

Summer Solstice Eve Poem

A Sacrament

Become the high priest,
the bee. Drone your way
from one fragrant
temple to another, nosing
into each alter. Drink
what's divine --
and while you're there,
let some of the sacred
cling to your limbs.
Where you go
leave a small trail
of its golden crumbs.
In your wake
the world unfolds
its rapture, the fruit
of its looming.
Rooms in your house
fill with that sweetness
your body both
makes and eats.

-Paulann Peterson

Spreading the Divine nectar of beauty on this eve of Summer Solstice. Gratitude to my friend, Eleanore, for sending this poem to me. Image from the Endangered Bee website.

Celtic Tree of Life Mandala

©2010 Amy Livingstone

“Celtic Tree of Life Mandala” for Mary M.

When I met with Mary, she said “When I look at my mandala I want to feel JOY.” Gratitude for life right here, right now in this present moment. As a pagan, shamanic healer, and lover of trees, and with her roots in the Celtic tradition, the Tree of Life and the Triple Spiral called to me for the center of this mandala. The ancient Celts envisioned the cosmos in form of a great tree—the roots deep in the earth and branches stretched to the heavens. The Celtic Tree of Life is the symbol of balance between these worlds; the unification of above and below. Spirit and Earth. It is a sacred symbol of balance and harmony. Within the center and in the larger mandala, the night/dark/new moon and the day/light/sun represents the balance between the masculine and feminine which she is learning to balance through her recovery from cancer.

The number three, as in the shamrock and triple spiral, is significant for Mary, so the three half-circles surround the center mandala represent that number. Within these shapes lie a world of magical creatures that inhabit our world. Often they are too small to see at a passing glance, like a slug or lady bug, but when we slow down and come more fully into the present moment, we are able to appreciate the miracle of all living things and find joy and gratitude in the moment. The hummingbird, butterfly, and dragonfly are symbolic of transformation, beauty, and love. The red flowers are impatiens which are symbolic of “motherly love” which I discovered after being called to paint them when a hummingbird visited these flowers outside my studio door. Synchronicity, spirit guiding my hand. They are reflections of Mary—with her enormous love for your family, community, Mother Earth, and the women she supports in recovery.

The cat—and cougar who curled up with her in the sweat lodge—sleeps quietly as a reminder of her spirit guides. Finally, she spoke of the power of herbs and the importance of rosemary. Framing the mandala are sprigs of rosemary to guide and support Mary on her journey of healing and JOY!

I feel honored and great joy to create these personal, soul-symbol mandalas for others on their journey. When I am immersed in the process of creation, I feel the spirit of the Creator working through me and am enormously blessed to be a vessel in which to birth each of them into the world. For more information about soul-symbol mandalas, please contact me through my web site at www.sacredartstudio.net or call 503.239.9671.

Crisis and Opportunity

Like so many of us, I am completely bereft at the environmental crisis unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico. I sob watching the news or while listening to radio commentators pontificate endlessly on who is responsible for this? Yes, BP and ultimately, greed, are responsible. But I also ask myself, aren't we all responsible on some level? With the world's desperate need for more and more oil to maintain lifestyles that are not sustainable, I wonder what is the price we are willing to pay for that? How many species will we need to lose before we (in developed countries) radically alter our way of life? Listening to those around me, I hear anger, frustration, grief, despair, and hopelessness. Some are praying. Others turn away. It's too much to bear. I've written much here about the importance of bearing witness but at times like this it can be difficult. I wonder daily if this will be the collective wake-up call humanity requires in order to shift our allegiance, and addiction, to fossil fuels and move more quickly towards sustainable energy. I hope. I pray, too. I simplify.

One way that I am working to reduce my fossil fuel footprint is to limit buying vegetables that are grown (most often with pesticides) and shipped from other parts of the world such as Mexico and South America. For years I have only bought organic, but over the past winter I purchased my vegetables locally or within one state away whenever possible which reduces the amount of petroleum necessary for shipping long distances. Okay, an occasional cucumber slipped by, but for the most part I was consistently checking labels as to where my food was coming from. Here in Portland, we have thriving farmer's markets throughout the city and many of us are now growing our own food which is great. And there is often a friend or neighbor with extra to share and fresh eggs, too! For me, the choice to be mindful around my food source has also been an opportunity to expand my creativity into the kitchen. Instead of tasteless tomatoes shipped from Mexico, I use other ingredients with salad greens which expands my culinary repertoire while attempting in some small way to lessen my footprint on this beautiful Earth. To quote artist Lily Yeh: "To live your values is political." (Finding Beauty in a Broken World by Terry Tempest Williams) The food also tastes better and what a wonderful opportunity to bring more creativity into our daily lives. Food growing and creation is truly an art form. This year I am expanding my vegetable garden and am excited to see what delights I can create out of this richness. I'm currently reading Barbara Kingsolver's book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle which has quickly become a sacred text for me. It is her families account of how for one year they only ate what they could grow or buy from local farmers. It's very inspiring as well as educational about the food industry, farming, and growing. (Food, Inc. is a documentary worth viewing as well.) The book includes recipes and Kingsolver writes with great humor and insight. Well worth reading if you haven't checked it out!

In the meantime, life goes on for the rest of us who aren't immediately affected (not yet anyhow) by the crisis unlike the residents along the Gulf. My heart goes out to the many communities whose lives depend on the waters and her creatures for their livelihood and survival. Many years ago as a young adult, I lived on the coast of Florida. It's pristine sandy white beaches, aquamarine waters, dolphins, and stunning sunsets were all part of the landscape in which I walked, worked, loved, and played. It was a magical time, in a magical land. May it be saved and preserved for future generations. Pray it may be so. Aho!

The Peace of Wild Things
— Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.