be silent.

Be Silent.

Be still.

Alone, Empty

Before your God.

Say nothing, Ask nothing.

Let your God look upon you.

That is all.

He knows.

He understands.

He loves you with an enormous love.

He only wants to look upon you with His love.

Quiet.

Be still.

Let your God love you…

(author unknown)

Mindfulness

We have a class in nursing that we all like to call "Feelings". It is actually called Self and Others, but is a class where we essentially talk about ourselves and our feelings, hence the name feelings. I may be the only person in the program who actually enjoys the class, but at the moment that is beside the point.

Today was our last day of class and to finish off the year we all did creative presentations. Presentations included everything from paper cranes to paintings to songs. It was actually a lot of fun to see what people came up with. There are some very creative people in my program!

Two of my friends made a video based on the following poem. I have asked them to send me the link to their video so I can post it later if you want to see it for yourself. It was very well done. At the end of their presentation they handed out copies of the poem they used and, because I appreciated the poem myself, I have decided to post it here for you to enjoy. 

***

Mindfulness

Have you ever had the experience of stopping so completely,

Of being in your body so completely,

Of being in your life so completely,

That what you knew and what you didn't know,

That what had been and what was yet to come,

And the way things are right now,

No longer held even the slightest hint of anxiety or discord,

A moment of complete presence beyond striving,

Beyond mere acceptance,

Beyond the desire to escape or fix anything or plunge ahead,

A moment of pure being,

No longer in time,

A moment of pure seeing,

Pure feeling,

A moment in which life simply is,

And that 'is-ness' grabs you by all your senses,

All your memories,

By your very genes,

By your loves,

And welcomes you home,

That is a taste of mindfulness.

Jon Kabat-Zinn

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go, my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing, my darling)
                                  i fear
no fate (for you are my fate, my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world, my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life; which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

e e cummings

The Raven - Edgar Allan Poe

I know it's long, but one of my friends read me this poem earlier this week and I loved it! I would encourage you to stick it out and read it if you have the time. 

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!"

Rilke

Anxious, we keep longing for a foothold-
we, at times too young for what is old
and too old for what has never been;

doing justice only where we praise,
because we are the branch, the iron blade,
and sweet danger, ripening from within.

Rilke

The Crownless Again Shall be King

All that is gold does not glitter,

    Not all those who wander are lost; 

The old that is strong does not wither,

    Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

    A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

    The crownless again shall be king.

You Keep Us

You keep us waiting,
You, the God of all time,
want us to wait for the right time in which to discover
who we are, where we must go,
who will be with us, and what we must do,
So thank you... for the waiting time.

You keep us looking,
You, the God of all space,
want us to look in the right and wrong places
for signs of hope,
for people who are hopeless,
for visions of a beeter world that will appear
among the disappointments of the world we know,
So thank you... for the looking time.

You keep us loving,
You, the God whose name is love,
want us to be like you -
to love the loveless and the unlovely and the unloveable;
to love without jealousy or design or threat;
and most difficult of all, to love ourselves.
So thank you... for the loving time.

And in all this you keep us,
through hard questions with no easy answers;
through failing where we hoped to succeed
and making an impact when we felt we were useless;
through the patience and the dreams and the love of others;
and through Jesus Christ and his Spirit,
you keep us.
So thank you... for the keeping time,
and for now, and for ever. Amen.

Iona Community, Scotland

Apache Blessing

This has been on my sister's fridge since we moved here and I never actually read it until today. I kind of like it. I've always liked blessings.

may the sun
bring you new energy by day,
may the moon
softly restore you by night,
may the rain
wash away your worries,
may the breeze
blow new strength into your being.
may you walk
gently through the world and know
its beauty all the days of your life.

Listen and Let Be

We have been talking extensively about listening in one of my nursing classes. It's something that I have come to realize is not as easy as it seems. This has become obvious at clinical. It's much easier to try to fix someone's problems than to trust uncertainty. This is a poem that is in one of our textbooks that I really appreciated.

Listen

When I ask you to listen to me
and you start giving me advice
you have not done what I asked.

When I ask you to listen to me
and you begin to tell me why I shouldn't feel that way,
you are trampling on my feelings.

When I ask you to listen to me
and you feel you have to do something to solve my problem,
you have failed me, strange as that may seem.

Listen! All I ask, is that you listen,
not talk or do - just hear me.

Advice is cheap - 10 cents will get you both Dear Abby
and Billy Graham in the same newspaper.

And I can do that for myself; I'm not helpless.
Maybe discouraged and faltering, but not helpless.

When you do something for me that I can and need to do
for myself, you contribute to my fear and weakness.

But, when you accept as a simple fact that I do feel what I feel,
no matter how irrational,
then I can quit trying to convince you
and can get about the business of understanding what's behind
this irrational feeling.

And when that's clear, the answers are obvious
and I don't need advice.
Irrational feelings make sense when we understand.

So, please listen and just hear me.
And, if you want to talk, wait a minute for your turn;
and I'll listen to you.

Anonymous

[l(a]

l(a

le
af
fa
ll

s)
one
l

iness

E.E. Cummings

C.S. Lewis

He whom I bow to only knows to whom I bow

When I attempt the ineffable Name, murmuring Thou,

And dream of Pheidian fancies and embrace in heart

Symbols (I know) which cannot be the thing Thou art.

Thus always, taken at their word, all prayers blaspheme

Worshipping with frail images a folk-lore dream,

And all men in their praying, self-deceived, address

The coinage of their own unquiet thoughts, unless

Thou in magnetic mercy to Thyself divert

Our arrows, aimed unskilfully, beyond desert;

And all men are idolators, crying unheard

To a deaf idol, if Thou take them at their word.
Take not, O Lord, our literal sense. Lord, in thy great

Unbroken speech our limping metaphor translate.

C.S. Lewis

I am taking Theology this semester and this was the first thing we looked at in class. Our professor, Roy Berkenbosch, put this up on the overhead and gave us a couple minutes to talk amongst ourselves about it. I don't know about you, but when I read this initially it all flew over my head. When we started discussing it, however, I really began appreciating it. I'll try and be concise.

If you read this... I guess I would call it a prayer or a reflection of some sort... anyways, if you read it... I don't know. I found it rather powerful. I'll just share what I found most impacting.

Our concept of who God is is less than who the true God is. The opening line shows that only God knows who He really is. God is far greater than we could ever imagine and our words are unworthy of who He is. We cannot be literal because he is so much greater than anything we can say and his majesty surpasses words that we may use to describe it - our words are insufficient and inadequate. Our arrows are aimed unskillfully and they miss the target. If our words are taken at face value then we are blaspheming God and reducing him to something far less than He actually is.

I don't know... there is so much I could say and that I want to say, but I'm not very good at articulating my thoughts and I'm afraid I will just lose you so you can just read that for yourself and I'd encourage you to reflect on it. It's a good piece of literature.