Moon comes looking for me

Sunday. 
Lessons and carols at my new adopted church, with beautiful harmonies of ancient and familiar carols. 
Then some errands which included finding the perfect fleece vest at a second-hand store. Ah coziness! 
A quick trip home to get the dogs for some time at a park. And then home again. 
Stopped at a red light, I happened to look up. Whoa! 
Here's what I saw:

So of course I found a place to park so I could try and catch this magic. 
Big fat moon, eluding the bare-branched trees, trying so hard to catch it. 
As I watched the moon rose and rose, getting bigger and bigger until it looked like this  ➜

  all within five minutes...



I drove home and the moon set above me as I drove up into the hills. Aha - I could try again. Maybe I could get a clearer image! Waiting and watching, I turned around and saw my home against the sunset over the bay. Enough to keep the eyes of my heart happy as I waited for the moon to appear... 

Was I standing in the right place? Was that a glow at the top of the hills above me? Was the moon going to rise behind some of the buildings stepping up the hill and me miss it?

And then… there it was. That unmistakeable tell-tale glow behind the trees. 

Waiting…
 watching… and slowly, slowly there it came

     



    Little by little, it grew and grew, 
          while I watched carefully, 
       with love, honouring its beauty, 
          its strength, its power to hold our earth 
            in balance, to keep the tides
               ebbing and flowing. There.

             How we are blessed. 

DAYS OF THANKING

Wild Thanks Givings

Poems of thanks giving, of praise and

gratitude deposit small pools

throughout the heart. These little

pools of quenched thirst, of eased

longings, of comforted sorrows and

more than that, the ratcheting down of

the hundred thousand aches and pains,

these small pools of praise open the

windows, the curtains, shutters to life

not yet lived, waiting, hoping for that

impetuous embrace that unlocked, 

unclenched, undisturbed bed of

joy, celebration, 

savour 

of moments

piled upon moments, that pure liquid

ecstasy of the body, the scent

taste, touch, the cascading sounds

the wonder of trees 

cradling the sky, of water 

feeding earth, its own hundred 

thousand movements, its charting of

terrain and currents and shorelines,

its counter to sky, its resistance to

moon, its million glittering points of

reflected, dancing gratitude to the

sun of all being, to light and blue

and wind of the spirit. 

There it is –

a cascade of living animals and

strange beings, of shifting realities

and emotions, a kaleidoscopic waltz

of sensation and opening hearts – the gift.

      11.29.2013     ©Gyllian Davies

THE BLESSING OF RAIN...

It's raining. Yesterday and today, the skies have been heavy with that dark slate grey, the air is full of fat drops intent on only one thing - DOWN.

The trees are dancing with delight and relief. Walking home yesterday I swear I could hear them singing. After days followed by months of no rain, they are drinking in the moisture, savouring the deep cleanse of all their leaves being rinsed free of dust and grit. 

So I'm remembering about savouring. I'm remembering the importance of casting back over the week, in a slow and measured way, just as the fly fisherman stands still and quiet in the middle of the stream, watching and feeling the flow and the currents. 

And I'm remembering also the importance of focusing in on my ways of being in the world, being with myself, being with others, casting back to see when was I aligned with my own spirit, living in full integrity, and choosing a path with heart.

I am remembering to stop and look at who I've been and what I've done, and to draw out the times that are good, the times I've more than measured up to the abundance of enough-ness. 

But it's more than that, more than seeing, listing, cataloguing, the times and ways in which I've shown up, been my word, fulfilled my commitments AND my own expectations and dreams... 
I also want to take the time to really savour each one. 
To set down the misgivings, the second-guessing, the doubts, the missed deadlines or forgotten tasks, to let all that fall away in a wash of self-forgiveness and release so I can really allow myself to feel the goodness, the satisfaction, the delight! of all that I've done, all I've been, all the living, breathing essence of soul expressed by me in this past week.


And then, inevitably…  to love my living. 
Because it is inevitable that when I take the time, and choose to be open-hearted, 
after illuminating my own life, cherishing my own life, 
I will then find myself 
in a heart-dance of celebratory love for my own life. 

Dancing with the trees, dancing with delight and relief.

BALANCING DARK AND LIGHT

Last night, I was exchanging thoughts with a friend on Facebook. Put it down to my cold, but I had slid into a place of discouragement and cynicism after reading about the demonstrations at Elsipogtog and the violent reaction from the RCMP.

Then my friend responded: "I am refusing to feed the wolf that supports the dark side." And I was called back to myself, cold and all. For neither do I, although I'd been edging along the verge of doing so. Maybe even dipping my toes in. Oops. Then this morning, another friend commented that she needed a prayer because all the politics was scaring her, and I realized how careful we need to be with our choices. I do want people to know the state of things AND it's essential to balance the info I post with large dollops of LIGHT, JOY, BEAUTY, and GRATITUDE. There's all too much of the dark if we look that way - and look we must, so we know where to aim our light-bearing.But ever and always, it's so important to nourish ourselves with that life-sustaining GOODNESS that's also out there awaiting our witness. So for her prayer I share one from my book, "In A Time Of Change; Poems for the Lost and The Found, The Hungry and the Hopeful".

photo credit: Shirley Halnan                

                               HOPE                                                           

     I move slow and soft across the landscape -     

     like fog drifting down the mountainside or

     the incoming tide creeping over the sand, my motions

     of heal and repair in the world would not show

     from outer space, nor even from the other side

     of the mountain. But here’s what I draw from the wisdom

     of the rocks here – marble and limestone, granite

     and mica:  we each have our strength

     and our weakness, which when reversed - like night 

     and day -  reveal hidden courage, gutsy and

     whimsical. Seven songs of healing rest on the shoulder

     of any unexpected change – that is the gift waiting

     to be opened. And five feathers of sorrow linger in

     the hand of the presenter – there is the weight

     and counter-balance longed for by the heart. If

     we lift ourselves to soar with the thermals, we can

     learn to live with the earth, leaving behind our determined

     survival-in-spite-of. Then as the songs pour from 

     the east, we can slide into the open, overtaking

     and overturning the three thieves of love. At that moment

     of victory will our hearts leap into the joy - 

     dancing, spinning, forming and unforming

     joining and dissolving into 

     the circle of the One.

                            © Gyllian Davies

LESSONS ~ HERE THEY COME AGAIN!

Yesterday morning I woke up feeling a little odd, nothing to get excited about - until I almost fell over from dizziness three different times as I headed for my shower. Yikes! There was no avoiding the fact of it - I had the flu. 

I spent the day dozing, drinking ginger tea, chewing away on my readings for classes, and hoping, really, really hoping, that I had the twenty-four hour variety. Today I feel a little bit better. I'm pretty sure it's not wishful thinking since I actually managed to walk up and down my stairs four times - twice for the daily dog-walks (which must go on), and twice because I was truly out of clean laundry. I washed my sheets too, which felt like an optimistic gesture. You know - no point in washing the sheets until the virus or germs or whatever have gone on their merry way. And now I'm whacked, from just that little effort. Off to bed shortly.

But first! (as one of my heros, Jian Ghomeshi would say) some musings on how getting sick yields gems of insight. Yes, really. First one came this morning as I woke up with no urgency. The alarm was irrelevant, my schedule was out the window, my only goal - do whatever my body needed to heal. Lying there I noticed how delicious blue sky is. And how even more delicious it is to simply lie still and take it in. Ahhhh (as my yoga teacher would say. I can hear her now) And following on that I also noticed how much I love the colours of the world as revealed by sunlight. And further, what a fine thing it is to lie in bed simply revelling in all that beauty right outside my window.

At which point it occurred to me ~ I need to incorporate some delicious body moments into my life on purpose. A regular diet of them, particularly one alarm-free morning per week. I have been pushing myself to do as much as possible every single day. Rising early so I can fit my practices in AND give the dogs some time at the park AND eat breakfast before classes. And then I stay up late either reading or working on assignments. I do believe it's called burning the candle at both ends. And I do believe as well, that my body is saying a firm no to this practice.

So from here on, I declare Saturday mornings as my time out from having to get up, whether or not I'm ready. I suspect this will really increase the beauty of my life. And I happen to know that beauty is essential to wholeness and vitality! 

Another gem came with a text from one of my class-mates asking if I needed a dog-walker while I was down with the flu. Such grace, such generosity. I see that I forgot and have been gently reminded ~ sometimes we are called to surrender which can look like asking for help. I may take him up on it tomorrow, as I attempt to resume my life. 

I have my sensors turned on high now, keeping a look-out for other ways to nourish wholeness within the intensity of life. Tomorrow will be another day, yup, virgin invitations to engage surrender, fresh chances for kindness to my body, new ways to absorb beauty. I think I'm ready.

BREATHING AN OPEN SPACE into life...

Isn't it time for a blog post? I ask myself this question and the answer is the usual one these days - "there's no time for anything except getting my readings done. And now there's papers too - yikes!"

Yet, inside me a voice calls out - where is the space for the sacred? Where is the time for stopping and listening to that still small voice? 

This intensity of my life, this focus on classes to the exclusion of almost everything else, this continual sense of work not yet done... It reminds me of Bible reading assignments from these past weeks "How long will you make me wait, Oh Israel?" Yahweh calls out to the people when they ignore that holy relationship. 

Well, you couldn't exactly say I'm ignoring the Holy of Holies, what with classes focused on the Bible, on Anglicanism, on the history of early Christianity, and several times of worship each day, but my own soul feels squinched. I wonder if there's space in my life for the big picture of why I'm here at seminary. 

So I ask my soul, "What would feed you? How can I be tender towards your needs?" The answers that come back are surprisingly simple - of course!   

photo credit: Duncan Millar                                                                     

♡   by taking time to savour the amazing world we live in, this incredible ecosystem that gives us all we need to exist - air to breathe, water to drink and bathe in, earth to stand upon and have a home on... How'd we get to be so lucky! 
I breathe in and remember this.

♡   by asking the big questions and opening to improbable answers. By listening gently, with no agenda. By waiting, being still, trusting.

♡   by never missing an opportunity to laugh, to rejoice in silliness, to engage in foolishness. Letting my child out to play.

♡   by giving myself enough sleep so that when I wake up I remember my dreams, those doorways into mystery and harbingers of wholeness.

♡   by remembering to ask myself – or maybe to ask the Holy – what am I called to be doing here? What are the lessons I need to learn so I can be of greater service when I return home? Gifting myself re-connection with my unique path, my distinct call.

There's probably more, only... those books are calling me and it's time to return to them!

Sweet and sour, sour and sweet

A few mornings ago, walking fast to a service I thought I was going to, but which actually wasn't happening at all, something went squish under my foot. Startled, I looked back and saw I'd stepped on a lemon. How could I have missed seeing a lemon lying on the sidewalk! Never seen such a thing before in my life, so wouldn't it have jumped out at me? Well, I guess that depends on where I was focused - the here-and-now, or the what-if-of-the-future. You can probably guess the answer. Maybe you've had such moments yourself?

I thought I was going to Eucharist, but I actually wasn't sure if there was one scheduled.  I was looking way ahead down the street to see if any of my buddies were walking in that direction, cause then I'd know I was on the right path. The sour possibility of being all mixed up, or of simply being wrong, one way or another, had me focused way out of my body. Would any of us see a lemon, even if it'd been jumping up and down in front of us, in that state of mind/heart?!

Walking back up the hill, I encountered the person who lived at "the lemon-house". After hearing my story (which I now found comical) he proceeded to fill my arms with lemons. Wow. I'd heard about eating lemons right off the tree, and now I was about to do that! What could be more sweet! Sweetness of new encounters. Sweetness of generosity. Sweetness of 'wrong' turning into something good. I walked the rest of the way home with a big smile on my face, cradling my precious cargo.

It can be so easy when my heart is open and ready. Allowing sour to lead me into sweetness, even allowing sour to be normal and ok... I wish this way of being upon myself, and upon you too. 

There is that classic phrase - when life gives you lemons, make lemonade. (I intend to, for sure!) And isn't it easier for me to see the possibility of making that delicious drink when I'm fully aware not only of the sour that may be underfoot, but also of the sweet that surrounds me all the time. When the sweet becomes my focus, life softens. My ribcage expands. Which permits my lungs to take in more air (more generosity!) and then... I remember what a shimmering gift my life is. Thanks be to God!

My prayer for Syria & the world

Source of all Light and Life,
seed in the hearts of all leaders
a deep and tenacious hunger
for peaceful and tender resolutions 
to all conflicts in the world.

This morning's poem...

Morning Poem

The birds begin – this is it, we feel it coming

It’s that early morning slide, the quiet wind

the slight shifting of air. Trees flutter, giddy

expectation trembling through sap

and limb. New beginning, we get it.

Silver and soft, light grows, flushes,

fills with juice, with fullness. It’s

the arrival. A new day – do you feel it?

That shimmer and hum, rippling up

from dirt, from ground, from earth –

she, the One. It’s the disappearance

of night, of shadow, the lightening

of despair, the possibility of ‘found’

replacing ‘lost’. We rise into the mystery

already here, the grace, the miracle…

We awake to find it present, solid

as if there were never 

any question. Or doubt, not that either.

On this good moment, stop. Be astonished.

Be amazed. Life – it’s ours.

© Gyllian Davies  09.01.13

A New World

My favourite one...

So hard to believe only five days have passed since I last posted! And… so hard to believe five whole days have whipped by since I last posted! 

Today has been the first day of orientation, and I began to get a taste of the feast I've been admitted to. They spoke to us of how we are being trained for a trade. Ahhh...  And of how we are going to experience transformation. The language used had layer after layer of rich metaphor, and I felt my inner self sit up in rapt attention. Who can say where this journey will take any of us, but I could feel the Spirit dancing in the room and it was good!

The days leading up to this one were equally intense. They spoke to us today of culture shock, of the trauma of uprooting ourselves from home and friends and coming to this place where we do not yet know each other. Yes. I KNOW this state they speak of. I have been living days of exhausting overwhelm as I tried to sort my way through priorities - which matters more -  a bed to sleep in or internet to be connected with? Buying colourful curtains or throws to alleviate the relentlessly oppressive monochrome of my apartment, with its white walls and grey carpet, or... saving my money to avoid using my federal loan? Trying to find my physical way through a strange city at the same time as trying to navigate my inner priorities reduced me to tears more than once.

The beautiful stairs leading up to my apartment - perfect for a ceramic artist!

And yet… at the same time, there has been the incredible abundant generosity of a dear friend and her son who with his truck and her time and energy furnished my apartment and helped me navigate the maze of this new world. And my apartment which is amazingly spacious, interesting, and full of light. There are the beautiful tiles which decorate the risers on my outside stairs, with each step different. There are the innumerable small kindnesses and friendly actions of fellow students, of staff and faculty of the seminary. There are the many people on the street who return eye contact with a smile or a nod. And then there was the gift of an excellent mattress from a stranger with the same name as my sister…

The Spirit is at work here; clearly my job is to surrender to Her. Not so easy. Totally necessary. One lesson after another if I pay attention.

Arrival, First Wave

Yesterday I arrived in Berkeley. What a journey! Leaving Canada on August 15, I crossed the border with my car loaded to the gills. My beloved plants were confiscated because I had no document to certify them free and clear of soil and plant disease or pests. Dang! Should have checked that out months ago. I decided to forgive myself. The car, which had been a potential bureaucratic nightmare, turned out to be straightforward, thanks to my guardian angels, earth-bound and heavenly! (You know who you are!)

Then I was on the road to Portland, where I stayed for three days and squeezed too many visits with a bundle of dear friends into too short a time. Thankfully, I was staying with friends wise in the ways of vagabonds who are also introverts (that would be them in the past, and me at that moment). The peace within their home restored me each night. The visits with dear ones filled my heart. And, at the same time, the tension about this journey I'm on, built and built within me, until I was wound up tight as the high 'e' string on a violin! 

Fear. Salty and sour, heavy and flat. For a day and a half I forgot my true identity, as the fear whined and whistled around and through me. Finally I remembered my stones, my holy ground that calls me back into solid relationship with Creator and the earth from whence I arise. Sitting in that deep silence, I returned to a quiet heart, a peaceful mind. Breathing once again, I remembered my own soul and came home to myself. Oh blessed relief! Oh gratitude for spiritual practices! 

Monday, on the road once again, I made a lunch-stop in Eugene, a reunion with old friends. They asked me to read them a poem from my new book (did I mention the book launch in Portland?). I read one for them. And then another - which turned out to be for me. The best antidote to fear and self-doubt? Read a poem. Or two!  

Here's the one that turned out to be for me: (maybe it's for you as well?)

             QUESTIONS OF SURRENDER

What is surrender . . .  do I know yet?

I want to have it clear, like looking

into a cup of water and seeing

spidery cracks, runes of fortune

in the china curve, precise beneath the surface.

I want to know the sound, like hearing

the Tibetan monks chanting in the square,

over-tones layered up till the entire world drops

into that core of stillness. I want

my surrender to be a known path,

each stepping stone solid and firm –

above water, above ground.

But I see now

this ain’t no cakewalk,

I don’t get to know my way, the direction

of my going, not even the time of the day.

This blind trust that’s called for

rankles against my skeptical bones,

my comfort-seeking skin. Seems like

God could have arranged it

better than this,

this cook’s tour of unfriendly places,

sobering moments, and blind alleys . . .

All the same, there’s a suspicion

growing in me that I’ve found the point,

the nub, the uneasy centre of true

surrender. I’ve got to reach beyond

my little mind and bind myself

to the Almighty, mystifying and unpredictable

and waiting to stretch me

way out past the end of hope.

The last time...

Yesterday I led the service and gave the sermon at my church. The last time until I return. Our congregation is small - between 15 and 30 people on a Sunday, depending on all the variables that come along in life… It is a strong community, a loving community and I wanted to serve them with grace and clarity. 

I had promised myself to trust the sermon I wrote the day before, not to try and improve on it. I had promised myself to breathe all through the service, to stay grounded, to be with my people. And they held me up, just as they've been doing all along. The expression used - 'locally raised up' - usually refers to people who train and then serve locally. I am going away to train but as I kept my promises to myself, for them, I felt the people of my church raising me up. I felt the sweetness of Spirit flowing through me as I offered them my sermon, the one I wrote for them. 

At the end I was startled to find our priest, the one who gave me the query for my call, had slipped into the congregation during communion. He came forward and joined with our retired priest to bless me. They blessed me and sent me out, releasing me to my journey. And blessed is exactly how I felt. It was all intense, bittersweet, like a river of trust and Light flowing through me. 

Today, remembering how that was, I return to my mantra - All will be well and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well...  Knowing God's got it, I see that all will unfold as it should.

Beginnings...

                         Journey – First Day

                  We step into the unknown,

                  we are pilgrims on the first day,

                  fresh and expectant and still

                  oh so rooted in our homes, the lives

                  we think we’re leaving behind

                  but secretly carry in our trunks,

                  or the pockets of our pants.

                  Our faces pivot, forward – the journey,

                  back – the familiar. Forward, back, 

                  forward...  We are 

                  the baby birds, fresh hatched

                  hunkered in those friendly fragments

                  shell of home,

                  fractured around us because

                  we chose to break out, to go see

                  what wonder awaits us. How

                  will our eyes be opened, when

                  will we encounter the magical,

                  the holy, the sacred? Will it

                  speak to us? Or simply

                  float by, magnificent and silent,

                  changing us forever, and

                  everyone will know it. We have

                  grand expectations, whether

                  we hide them or not. And what

                  comes towards us down the road,

                  growing in power with each eager step

                  we take, our glorious illusions, shedding

                  garments, one by one, till we come

                  face to face with you, Terrible Truth.

                                                   © Gyllian Davies

Starting Out...

This morning I woke with the flavour of a dream, and not the details. I felt peaceful, reassured, pleased with life - an excellent way to begin this blog and proceed on this journey! Out the window, summer was shining in all her early morning glory. And in the Kettle Valley where I've been living the past few weeks, the glory truly shines. Soon I will be leaving this beauty behind and waking to a different kind of beauty, deep in the city, yet still in the hills - for which I give thanks!

Between then and now there is a plethora of way-stops - Packing in a way that everything I want/need to take with me fits into my car… (my friends shake their heads in disbelief) Leave-taking from my communities and dear ones…  Then driving a LONG WAY!… In Portland, Oregon, celebrating a book launch of my newly published edition - "In a Time of Change; Poems for the Lost and the Found, The Hungry and the Hopeful" (named long before I ever dreamed this journey was waiting for me!), Driving more LONG WAY…  and finally… Arriving in Berkeley at "Holy Hill" - really! That's what  it's called!

In all of this I constantly remind myself to breathe. I ask for more hugs than usual. I softly chant my mantra to myself, a fusion from Julian of Norwich and a gift from a dear friend: "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well. And… God's got it!"  And then I breathe again. Lots! 

And continually I remember the moment when I discovered a quiet, hidden part of myself weeping tears of relief that I am going to do this, going to seminary and entering into the discernment path for the priesthood. The sweet surprise of that moment lingers and sustains me.