Jumping into Summer . . . and Life

 

Our crazy kitty Ruby (a teeny Aslan in our household) looking fierce.

 

"Blessed is the one who will eat at the feast in the kingdom of God."

June is shining in all its green glory.  Early morning bike rides have left me wonderstruck at the verdant beauty of the country roads surrounding Lagom Landing.  The gift of cool morning air combined with deep beauty and some wild hills bring a deep awareness of LIFE.

Each morning this invitation awaits, yet I often find myself too preoccupied to accept.  When I am out on the bike I am overwhelmed at the feast of wonder offered up.  I think of the Moody Blues' song, "Watching and Waiting":  "Don't be alarmed by my fields and my forests--they're here for only you to share," and yet the distractions of life can keep me from accepting the invitation.

How often we are like the folks in Luke 14, invited to the great banquet, only to come up with a myriad of excuses as to why we can't attend.  My personal favorite is, "But I don't have time, Lord."  Yet if I listen very carefully, I hears a still, small voice asking, "What DO you have time for, Rocky-Boy?"

Looking into my own hesitancy to accept the invite, beyond the preoccupation and busy-ness, I find fear.

Jesus came that we may have life and have it abundantly.  How easy to put a pollyanish spin on "abundant life."  Yet, LIFE is a full spectrum experience.  What is it like to abundantly experience LOSS and VULNERABILITY, not medicating ourselves with food, alcohol, TV, exercise, or other distractions?  Is it not far easier to be "comfortably numb" (to quote Pink Floyd), than to be Fully Alive?

I think of Eustace, who was turned into a dragon in C.S. Lewis' Voyage of the Dawn Treader.  To become a boy again, Aslan needed to peel the dragon skin off layer by layer with his sharp claws.  Each succeeding layer grew more painful, yet it had to happen for Eustace to become fully human again.

So my questions to all of us are, "What dragon skins stand in the way of our going to the great banquet offered to us this day?  What needs to be peeled away, put aside, or exposed to healing light?  What repeating tape of excuses keeps us from accepting the invitation to the Feast?

Perhaps it is time to put aside F.E.A.R. (False Emotions Appearing Real), open the door a crack, and take a peek at what is offered to us.

Not all of the dishes at the feast will be to our liking, but as my mom used to say, "Spinach is good for ya, and Humble Pie is Healthfood."

Life has no limit if you're not afraid to jump in it (Mason Jennings)!

Jump on in!

Love,
Rock

Wild Goose!

On June 21-24, Rock and Laurel along with niece Liz and friend Hannah, are headed to North Carolina to partner with the Wild Goose Festival, a creative gathering at the intersection of justice, spirituality, music and art.

At a typical day at the festival, an attender might take in a mainstage performance by American musician and record producer T-bone Burnett, a conversation with award winning screenwriter and director, Callie Khouri, a faith dialogue with Tony and Peggy Campolo, Brian McLaren or Lynne Hybels, and dozens of open air conversations under trees, on a walk, at the campsites.

The atmosphere intentionally lowers class and social barriers, creating free interaction between even the most accomplished speakers and attenders. And attenders have the chance to request and host informal conversations about topics they're interested in during the event, which may be attended by producers, seminary presidents, New York Times best-selling authors and a host of others they wouldn't normally interact with.

I invite you to check out www.wildgoosefestival.com and consider coming along as thousands of people from all walks of life talk, listen, eat and camp together as equals captivated by the story of Jesus.)

See you at the Wild Goose!

Waiting

Waiting

by Marion Maxson

April 2012

Lagom Landing

Sun-bright the day,

Cool the March breeze,

I walk to the woods again,

out past the chickens, gathered,

awaiting our scraps...

We, awaiting their daily eggs-gifts.

Out past the workers, stooping,

turning the earth

planting apple trees, awaiting 

the day, in years

when nourishing fruit falls.

waiting

Out past the workers, pounding, sawing,

converting the old barn into classrooms

awaiting the day, in months

when students will come.

waiting

Out past the stoney place 

to the path through the trees

to the wet place

where trout lily leaves

all spotted in the sun

await their pointy yellow

flowers.

Maybe next week

if the sun is warm.

Out along the mown path

to where the pines 

whisper in the wind.

Here I find a sacred spot 

under one lone tree.

Soft needles on the ground 

await my coming again

on a warmer day

bringing blanket and lunch.

waiting

We wait,

yet already filled

we seek sacred spaces

for today,

for the future.

Awaiting the bets time

Awaiting the coming of God.

Inversion

Laurel and I recently spent some time skiing in Northwest Montana and British Columbia and visiting her family.  On Big Mountain in Whitefish, we experienced a weather pattern known as an “inversion.” At the bottom of the mountain we would be in a thick layer of fog.  Riding the chairlift up we would break through the clouds into a sparkling blue and white sun-filled world.  

My mood would instantly swing from one of trepidation and foggy confusion into the optimistic joy and wonder at the clear vision of the peaks of Glacier National Park and the Canadian Rockies shining in the distance.  

Sometimes it seems like life can be an inversion experience.  Even the description implies a certain upside-down-ness.  What happens to mind and heart and spirit when we mistake the fog and cloud and limited vision for reality?  

There are experiences in life and even seasons we go through when it is hard to see.  We find ourselves groping around in an oppressive grey blanket.  This place can be filled with hopelessness, fear-filled projections, and an inability to see the goodness in our lives right in front of us.  

The truth of resurrection energy punches through the lies of inversion.  Holding us always through these times is the sustaining LOVE of the Big Place.  This is a love big enough to hold your doubts, fears, blindness.  There is room here to stumble and bumble, pick yourself up, and fall down some more.  

There is also an empowerment, a strength beyond self offered to move through inversion, to catch a glimpse of that LOVE.  Paul prays in Ephesians 3 that “we, being rooted and grounded in love, may have the power to grasp . . . what is the breadth and length and height and depth, to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that we may be filled with the fullness of God.”  Wow!

In some ways it may be easier to hang out in inversion.  To come alive to BIG LOVE is a two-edged sword--not only are our eyes more aware of the gifts of love and beauty surrounding us, but our hearts are far more sensitive to the broken world and hurting lives around us.  Breaking through the fog may bring up some questions and challenges unique to our own situations, calling us to be more alive “creatures” of our God and king.  

So as the dark days of winter begin to lengthen, the sap is starting to flow from the maples.  Are we willing to let that light shine into some of those dark, sleepy places?  Hibernation’s over, baby!  With Paul in Ephesus, sing out, “Awake, sleeper, and arise from the dead . . . and Christ will shine on you!”

"ain't no sin to be glad you're alive."

"It ain't no sin to be glad you're alive." - Bruce Springsteen

Sometimes I see all the medication ads on TV and I wonder what's happening to us.  Looking at the rates of our ailments, I ask myself if as we age, do we forget how to have fun?  Perhaps Jesus' words, "Unless you become like little children you cannot experience the kingdom of heaven," are more literally true than we might think.

I've been reading a lot of Madeleine L'Engle lately.  She fans the flames of imagination.  Her understanding of time--chronos:  the linear timeline which dictates our days, and kairos:  the expansive, spacious experience of being that is beyond chronos--helps me see that living in the moment enables us to break free of time and simply live.

As life goes on, chronos tends to dominate.  As we accrue more possessions and responsibilities, life gets filled up with managing things and jobs and people.  Kairos comes in fragmented moments further and further apart until we may even forget there is a different space offered to all of us.  When I hear myself decline the invitation to enter that space because I don't have "time", I often hear the Spirit ask me, "Well, what do you have time for, Rocky-boy?"

One of the things I most love about skiing is the overwhelming sense of "be here now."

Last winter, skiing in Utah, we got caught in a good old western blizzard.  A group of us were traversing a mountain top ridge late in the day.  This dark cloud moved in and just dumped on us.  On top of 40 mph winds and blinding snow, it started to lightening!  I've rarely felt more exposed or vulnerable.

We skied down off the ridge into the protection of a dense evergreen glade.  Instantly the wind was quieted.  We found ourselves in this magic place--gliding through snow blanketed pines, on a cushion of bottomless powder.  You could hear the euphoric whoops of fellow skiers as they flew through this sacred haven.

The truth of Springsteen's words echoed through me, "It ain't no sin to be glad you're alive."  Stopping with my ski partner in a clearing, no words were necessary, or maybe even possible.  We were in a holy place.

Each of us are invited into this place.  It will come in a different form for everyone.  The more we seek and accept the gift offered, the more we are able to choose life.  When the demands of life squeeze out our capacity for play, we are lesser people.  If we aren't intentional in making time for play, it will happen less and less in our lives.  We may discover that we have to learn how to have fun again.

So I ask, where do you go for fun?  Where is that place, what is that activity that makes you rejoice in being alive?  Make time for it, rediscover childhood joys.  Jump in some puddles, go out dancing, grab a sled or some cross country skis and head out into a snowy day.  Pick up an instrument, crank up the stereo, glide across the parking lot on your grocery cart, paint some pictures, pick up that woodworking project.  Laugh!  Let's get lost in kairos once in a while!

It ain't no sin to be glad we're alive!

Love, Rock, who's headed out today for a wild adventure in some western mountains, hosted by his lovely in-laws!

snowflake bentley

SNOW!

As the first snowstorms of the year come blanketing the forest and fields outside my window, I find my spirit awakened anew with wonder, mystery, and excitement.  

In our busy rush, most of us find snow a pain in the ass as we shovel it of our sidewalks, to get to our cars, to brush the snow off our cars, to brush off our windshields, to slip/slide our way to work.  Rarely will we slow down to contemplate the beauty of the white wonder that blows into our lives.

Perhaps if we were to see it with the eyes of Snowflake Bentley (http://snowflakebentley.com/), we might have a deeper appreciation for what we so callously push out of our way.  Snowflake grew up in Jericho Vermont which happens to e a place where some of the most perfect snow fall son the planet.  

From a young age he was fascinated with the beauty of the crystals falling so abundantly from the sky.  A good snow storm was an opportunity to head into the deep woods to enter into the beauty of snowflakes.  He would bring a soft black cloth and examine the intricacy of individual flakes, discovering unimaginable delicate detail in these tiny geometric wonders.  His deep passion was supported by his parents who, though not wealthy, bought Bentley cameras and a microscope to enable him to enter more deeply into this magic world.  Snowflake later became a pioneer in using the microscope in his photography of snow crystals.  His photos were published in National Geographic and throughout the world, people witnessed the magic world of snowflakes in a new way.

In pondering snow, I sometimes think God is playing with our minds.  Try to get your mind around six-sided crystals piled 40 feet high all over Alaska, the Himalayas, two foot snow storms in Vermont, the legendary powder of Utah and Colorado, the 600" of "Sierra Cement" that falls on the cascades year after year, decade after decade, century after century, and no two alike.  Not only all different but astoundingly unique. 

"For to the snow God says, "Fall on earth . . . From the breath of God ice is made" (Job 37).

The next time your hurriedly brush that snow off your car, let a flake or two fall on your coat sleeve.  Look at the intricacy of a single flake and perhaps you might find yourself blessed with the very breath of God!

Come join us for a ski!

Rock

goodbye 2011

"Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering.
There is a crack in everything,
That's how the light gets in."
-Leonard Cohen

This morning I'm thinking of all the updates received from friends and families over the last few weeks.  New babies, growing children, adjustments to life without a loved one, moves, new jobs, retirement, grandparenting.  The full gamut of life, full of cracks, always changing.

I'm thinking of this home where I spend early mornings lately by the tree, reading, reflecting, praying.  Lighting Advent candles, and now Christmas candles.  How grateful I am to have a quiet, warm place to reflect and write and read.  Rock and I often read to one another something that stood out particularly in our morning reading.  It's worship, I guess.

I remember other new year's eves.  Having friends over to the manse in the village of Wyoming.  Ringing the church bells at midnight.  Further back, I remember watching movies we weren't supposed to watch while my parents were out celebrating the new year.  Banging pots and pans and screaming, "HAPPY NEW YEAR!" through our porch screen to all our Lincoln Street neighbors.    Somewhere in the middle--making my way through a snowy labyrinth lit by candles at Holden Village in Washington state, and burning the year's regrets in a bonfire.

Rock and I never really know what we're going to do for new year's.  We may go into Rochester for dinner and a movie.  But what sounds more interesting to me this year is a walk in the woods and a bonfire.  It's strangely warm this year, like spring.  We can watch the flames grow and think about the way things keep changing.  The way love springs up out of nowhere, the way disease rears its ugly head unexpectedly, the cracks in everything.

Bennie might follow us into the woods.  He has a red and white collar around his neck these days with jingle bells on it.  C'mon ring those new year bells, Bennie!  It doesn't have to be a perfect celebration.  All of life is holy, cracks and all.  As Leonard says, that's how the light gets in.

Happy New Year, everyone!