Returning to "i am a little church" as a Source of Contemplation

 Dear Sister Laurel, many thanks for putting up e e cummings i am a little church!! I have been thinking about the imagery and how well it fits a hermit. I don't live out in the country or near mountains but as a hermit, I think I understand what e e cummings was saying --- even if he was not writing about hermits himself. For example, I love the line about the perfect patience of mountains or "winter by spring i lift my diminutive spire to/ merciful him Whose only now is forever!! They are images of eremitical life!! Does that make sense?? What are your favorite lines?

Oh yes! It makes wonderful sense! Thanks for sharing. I agree with you completely and love the entire poem. All of the lines have struck me profoundly at one time or another. Right now, because of work I am doing in direction it is, perhaps, the last line that has resonated within me most this past week  ---(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness). What I am coming to know deeply is that there is a profound rhythm to human growth and while I love God's light I am coming more and more to trust the darkness as well, because (as Bonhoeffer says) while "not everything is the will of God,. . . nothing is outside the will of God," and God does indeed bring light out of darkness so that even evil can become the source of grace. And sometimes, of course, the darkness is our own, for many different reasons. We cannot know the whole plan of God in our lives; sometimes we see light whereas other times we only see darkness. The ability to stand tall in both is surely a grace of genuine humility; for me this line encapsulates the very goal, not only of spiritual direction, but of spiritual life as a whole.

The other piece of this poem, that I think fits eremitical life very well is the following verse: around me surges a miracle of unceasing/birth and glory and death and resurrection:/over my sleeping self float flaming symbols/of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains. Because of Peter Damian's cosmology I am reminded that contemporary theologians and spiritual writers remind us we are made of "star stuff". Each hermit carries within herself that miracle of unceasing birth and death and find echoed within us the flaming symbols, the stars, that cummings envisions floating above us as we sleep (or pray). 

And each day is a new opportunity to share in the amazing life and dynamism of life with and in God who creates, sustains, and recreates us every single day by minute by second by nanosecond. I certainly do not have the perfect patience of mountains, but they speak to me of this call to monastic (eremitical) stability. Especially, I recognize that the rhythm of monastic and eremitical life helps situate us with the deeper rhythms of the cosmos and helps us hope in God despite the "smaller rhythms" that make us either fear change or align ourselves with the chaos of our world's disorder or the frenetic pace and choices of the adrenaline junkie!! Situating ourselves within this deeper rhythm and accepting we have a significant place in it despite our fragility and the apparent fleetingness of our lives, it seems to me, is the source of perfect patience.

Anyway, I love this poem and and the way it reflects on the mysteries of life. Almost any line speaks to me of God and eremitical life, of finding ourselves witnessing to the larger perspective of eternity and the ultimate security we share because of life in God. The verse I therefore come back to often is this one: i am a little church(far from the frantic/ world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature/ -i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;/i am not sorry when silence becomes singing. I found it spoke to me when I was younger and it speaks to me now in a different way when I am older. I always found silence culminating in singing, whether that was the way Office was chanted well because it grew out of silence, because of the way the rests in a line of sound create music (remember, I am a violinist), or, much more personally, because I as a person moved from a kind of muteness (and sometimes being a scream of anguish) to becoming the very different "language event" I associate with Mary's Magnificat. 

And finally, there is the verse that captures the profound way eremitical life is a life of deep compassion and bonds to every part of God's creation in and through God!! my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;/my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving/(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children/whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness. For me, one of the greatest gifts of eremitical life has been growth in compassion -- in the ability to feel and share in the suffering of the world so that I might also be able to convey the hope of God in ways that convince with its authenticity. And like cummings, I have come to this clumsily. receiving, giving, sometimes harvesting, other times experiencing drought, in both joy and discouragement (or other suffering). Cummings was always concerned with the truly human person, and when I apply what he said to hermits, it is because we are striving for the same thing cummings so esteemed! One way to define Jesus is as the compassionate One, the truly human being who suffers for and with others. I think this verse of cumming's i am a little church captures this really well!

So much more could be said about this poem and the gift it is to the person of faith!! So much more could be said about the way it echoes the Magnificat (or the Te Deum!!) of the hermit life!!! But I will leave this here for now. I originally offered this poem as an incentive to contemplation. Thank you for taking it in that direction and for allowing me to return to that as well!!!

A Contemplative Moment: i am a little church(no great cathedral)

 

i am a little church(no great cathedral)

far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities

-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,

i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;

my prayers are prayers of earth's own clumsily striving

(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children

whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing

birth and glory and death and resurrection:

over my sleeping self float flaming symbols

of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church(far from the frantic

world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature

-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;

i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to

merciful Him Whose only now is forever:

standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence

(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)

by e e cummings

So often in the past weeks, my thought and prayer have returned to the public and ecclesial nature of the c 603 vocation. Even in my work with my own director or with candidates for c 603 profession, the Holy Spirit has been working to emphasize this theme. I tend to begin with St Peter Damian's thought on the hermit as ecclesiola (little church, cf., Feast of St Peter Damian) and move from there to the consecrated vocation as a gift of God entrusted to the Church; this same vocation is then entrusted by that same Church to individuals called by God to this specific vocation through ecclesial mediation in the hands of her bishops.

In all of that, Christian reflection on the ecclesial nature of the consecrated eremitical vocation includes the sense that true spirituality is always incarnational; it must be embodied and realized in space and time, not cut off from the materiality of the spatiotemporal realm, but profoundly involved in it in a way that redeems and recreates the whole of reality in Christ. This is the way God moves us towards the new heaven and new earth the Scriptures promise us as our ultimate hope. I believe that these themes are at least implied and encapsulated in e e cummings' poem, i am a little church(no great cathedral). At the same time, I hope you enjoy it on its own terms!!

Anniversary of Eremitic Consecration

 Today is the 17th anniversary of my perpetual eremitical profession and consecration and I am grateful to God for all he has done in and with my life. A dozen years ago I wrote here, [[It was hard to believe that the joy of that day might be eclipsed by greater joy or the life it marked could grow even broader and deeper (though I hoped!!). But that is the truth of things. I thank God for most this amazing day and for all those who today are such an integral part of its deepest meaning. . .]]

In spiritual direction, one image we use to explain a particular and common experience is that of the spiral. When someone thinks they are simply repeating things and are not growing, we may point to the idea of coming around to what seems to be the same point again, and yet, doing so on a deeper level. One traces a spiral's movement in one's growth. Today is like that for me. I celebrated my birthday yesterday with friends from the parish and will celebrate today with my Director. So much is the same as it was last year, or a dozen years ago, and seventeen years ago, and at the same time, everything is different as well. Thus, seventeen years ago at the reception following my consecration, my (then) pastor quoted e e cummings (we both love his work!). Today, for so many reasons it seems even more appropriate:

I thank you God for most this amazing
day, for the leaping greenly spirit of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any --- lifted from the no

of all nothing --- human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

Some of all of this is echoed in the slide show from seventeen years ago. As I sat here today and prayed and watched the slide show, I cried and cried! The eyes of my eyes continue to open, the ears of my ears continue to be awakened. That is the promise of the Kingdom! 

My thanks to Michael and Tony for doing both the slide show and the videos of the profession. Amazing gifts I appreciate all the more every year that passes!

Follow-up on Growing as a Hermit: The importance of Others and Learning to Listen

[[Dear Sister, first of all, thank you for your response to my question. Also, thank you for the chance to follow up. What I was interested to hear was how does a hermit with little access to other people measure their [own] growth? Here's where I was coming from in my question. I know that it is in my relationships with others that I really find out whether I have been growing or not. Sometimes I think I've got some hang up taken care of and all of a sudden there's an encounter with someone at my parish and any thought that I have grown in my ability to love others, or my capacity for patience, or whatever --- is shown for the delusion it is! It just seemed to me that a hermit has less chance to have the kinds of experiences that prove whether they have grown or not.

I also wanted to follow up on what you said about letting God be God. I never made the connection before between letting God be God, letting ourselves be loved by God, and loving God ourselves. They really are all the same thing, aren't they? Thank you for that insight!]]

Thanks again for getting back to me. I understand where you are coming from in your observation regarding access to people or relationships. My own experience is, in some ways, the same as yours with regard to seeing how I have grown as a hermit. One source of gauging or measuring growth will be how I deal with other people. Sometimes this has to do with how others still trigger reactions in me, how I get irritated or impatient or judgmental --- all that kind of thing. Sometimes I will notice shifts in relating that are more positive (though I might be noticing how much less irritated or impatient or judgmental I get than I once did, and this represents growth and healing). Yes, there's nothing like relating to others, especially after periods of solitude, to help one see the work that has been done and the work (or conversion, growth, or healing) that still needs to be done!!!

Sister Marietta Fahey, SHF

I do pay attention to the keys these kinds of encounters with others give me, but the source of growth, healing, and conversion will always mainly be my relationship with God. I grow in that relationship and as I do that, I find that it bears fruit in other relationships, in the way in which I see reality around me (for instance, is my realism tinged (or strongly colored) by cynicism or by hope?), and in the way I experience or know myself as well. It also bears fruit in the way I live each day, how I handle illness and chronic pain, how faithful, caring, creative, and courageous I am able to be in spite of limitations, and in all of this, how faithful to prayer.) There are certainly times when all of that is harder (and sometimes very much harder) than at others and I depend on regular meetings with my director to share it all and to maintain perspective and direction. In between meetings for SD, it is journaling, prayer periods, and my time with Scripture that help keep me in touch with who I am called to be and who I am becoming. 

I think what I want you to hear here is the fact that a hermit's life is not ordinarily entirely closed off from others, or from the kind of listening and responding that characterizes relationships with these same others. Eremitical solitude is not isolation, after all!  Also, there are other ways to listen. I know, for instance, that when I stop journaling (or blogging!!) for a period of time something needs special attention. I know something is up when my prayer -- or my approach to prayer -- changes (for instance, I resist prayer or can't return to a normal pattern after a period of illness), or Scripture feels relatively flat to me. Note, however, the changes can also indicate something positive is going on with me and certainly in my relationship with God (and others), so, for instance, the need to add a third period of quiet prayer to the day.)  All of this, and what it all means for being faithful to (growing in) my identity and vocation in Christ depends on a commitment to listening and openness to myself and to God, and so, all of it is implicated in what I refer to as faithfulness to prayer. 

I remember writing here once about Thomas Merton saying that to be really crazy requires other people and that sanity was gained with the trees and mountains (probably a bad paraphrase but it will do for a very limited application). We really have to learn to listen to the content and quality of our own hearts if we are to grow. Moreover, we must learn to hear who God says we are --- how he loves and takes delight in us!! I think that best occurs in the silence of solitude, whether that solitude is about being in touch with ourselves while resting in the heart of God alone, being in touch with ourselves through the abundant life of God's creation, or seeing ourselves anew as we speak our truth to a good friend who generously gives herself over to hearing and accompanying us in this journey toward the fullness of Selfhood. In all of these situations we can hear our own hearts gently reflected back to us if we have learned to listen. That way lies growth, no matter who we are. Sometimes, our encounters with others result in inner turmoil, a kind of cacophony that doesn't serve growth in quite the same way --- if at all!

Thanks again for the follow-up question. I enjoyed pursuing this a bit further than I pursued it originally! And yes, "Letting God be God" etc.,  all mean essentially the same thing!!! Pretty cool, isn't it?

Happy Thanksgiving!

i thank You God for most this amazing

day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees

and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything

which is natural which is infinite which is yes. . .

e.e. cummings

1894-1962

This is one of those really special days for Americans, where we pause and give thanks for all that we have and can aspire to as the result of our liberty as citizens of the United States. For me, it is a joy-filled day because God has been so very good to me in so many ways. My life is rich with friends, love, meaning, fruitful ministry and work, and genuine freedom. In particular though, it is rich in the presence of God in an eremitical solitude that is full, empowering, and challenging. I am grateful beyond telling for this vocation and the freedom to respond to it. So many people have brought me to this place. . . ! I wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving Day. May we celebrate well the gifts and callings we have been given by God and may we remember and help empower to celebrate those who might  have reason to doubt or be grieved by the meaning of this day.

In Honor of e e cummings and Saint Peter Damian: i am a little church(no great cathedral)

I have always loved e.e. cummings' poem, i am a little church, but I never knew it had been set to music. I also love Peter Damian's notion of the hermit as an ecclesiola or "little church" and was reminded of that in the post I put up for his Feast Day yesterday. Well, here the two things come together in a poem/song so very appropriate for a solitary hermit! The poem and lyrics of the song follow.

i am a little church by e. e. cummings

i am a little church(no great cathedral)
far from the splendor and squalor of hurrying cities
-i do not worry if briefer days grow briefest,
i am not sorry when sun and rain make april

my life is the life of the reaper and the sower;
my prayers are prayers of earth’s own clumsily striving
(finding and losing and laughing and crying)children
whose any sadness or joy is my grief or my gladness

around me surges a miracle of unceasing
birth and glory and death and resurrection:
over my sleeping self float flaming symbols
of hope,and i wake to a perfect patience of mountains

i am a little church(far from the frantic
world with its rapture and anguish)at peace with nature
-i do not worry if longer nights grow longest;
i am not sorry when silence becomes singing

winter by spring,i lift my diminutive spire to
merciful Him Whose only now is forever:
standing erect in the deathless truth of His presence
(welcoming humbly His light and proudly His darkness)

Proclaiming the Feast of Christ the King: On Becoming the persons we are Called to Be

 Every year when we reach this last feast of the liturgical year I ask myself if Christ is more sovereign in my life than in past years. Have I grown in my openness to allowing Christ to be King or Ruler in my own life? Have I let go of the practices and attitudes that resist Jesus' sovereignty or the holy-making power of the mercy and love of the God Jesus calls Abba? A few years ago (about 5 and 1/2 years actually) I began writing about a process of inner growth and healing, a process of personal formation I had begun with my own director and I have commented on that a few times during these last years. The past year has been intense and of a somewhat different quality than the previous 4+ years; in October it was marked by a miracle --- yes, a literal miracle (there is no hyperbole or figurative language involved in that label) --- and throughout the year I experienced Jesus' presence in other ways that changed me, healed me, and too, challenged me to grow and mature in his love and friendship. The work I had undertaken proved to be powerful, and powerfully fruitful, and while the process continues (as a Sister friend recently reminded me, formation never ends!), its natural rhythm has led rather "neatly" (not that I really find anything about this work "neat") to this year's celebration of the feast of Christ the King, and a new liturgical year focusing on new beginnings, new life, and especially on a God who brings life out of barrenness!

One of the things I write about a lot in this blog is the way the phrase "stricter separation from the world" does not mean simply closing the hermitage door on the world around us. Instead it means changing one's heart, allowing our hearts to be loved into a wholeness that sees the world around us with the eyes of God rather than with the eyes of neediness, greed, acquisitiveness, and fear. To enter a hermitage or convent, for instance, without undergoing a significant metanoia of our own heart, is to make of the hermitage or convent an outpost of that world we shut the door on; to shut the door on "the world" in this way is to shut it up inside ourselves -- potentially a truly miserable-making situation for a hermit living physical solitude and external silence!! If our hearts are full of the woundedness and delusions regarding what is true, and which "the world" can cause, to live in silence and solitude within a hermitage can (will!) allow the screams of anguish one has distracted oneself from (or that one has become!), to come up freshly with increasing intensity and dominate one's personal reality. (Folks will know something of this experience because of the COVID-19 pandemic's need for social distancing and even outright "lockdown.")

But the world of the hermitage also provides the graced place and freedom to work with and in Christ to heal one's woundedness and to do battle (!) with the demons of one's own heart. This is the struggle to achieve what canon 603 calls "the silence of solitude" and requires of our lives as the charism and goal of diocesan eremitical life; it is also the gift a hermit will bring to her community whenever her vocation is lived rightly and well. I was very fortunate, the last few years especially, to have a director who either travelled to my hermitage every week or met with me by ZOOM so that we could work together with the frequency and personal accompaniment the work demanded. (It was a gift simply to find we could do this work via ZOOM!!!) 

I was aware that when the Church professed me under c.603 I had been given permission, indeed I had been commissioned to work with God in Christ to become the person he had made and called me to become! What other vocation allows for the space and time to attend to a call to holiness/wholeness in quite the same way as eremitical life? So, while I had never really anticipated doing the work I was doing, and despite some real risk that it could even mean I would need to consider leaving eremitical life for something else, the effectiveness of this work actually underscored my vocation rather than contradicting it. This year that means that I have come to a place where "stricter separation from the world'' means "greater adherence to the incredible life and potential of a God-given Self." It means "allowing God to empower and complete me" so I can be entirely myself and thus too, a clear expression of "God with us." 

And so, this year, as I review what has been during this past year, I am looking at a card my pastor gave me more than a year ago for my birthday. On the front it has a quote from e. e. cummings: [[It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.]] And that is certainly true; I have looked at that card several times a day this last 15 months, and been reminded of its deep truth. The world apart from God misshapes and distorts us each in all kinds of ways and still we are called to mature into the ones only God can fully envision, create, and complete. He is the potter, after all, and empowered by God's Spirit of Holiness we must find ways to allow ourselves to be clay --- God's own clay. This kind of growth and healing takes the grace of God in Christ who summons, accompanies, heals, transforms, and perfects us with his love and presence; often mediated by others who work diligently with us, it is this that empowers us to become the persons we are called to be. Letting the deepest, God-given truth in us --- the imago dei/imago Christi we are most truly --- live as abundantly as God wills it to is the work of a lifetime --- and the work of the God in Christ we are called to allow to be sovereign.

In some ways this piece feels to me like it is "all over the place" --- probably because there is so much to say in a brief space, along with the need to be discreet (and especially reverent) about some of it. But I need to return to writing regularly on this blog; I am hoping this is an opening piece which will allow me to do that. Sharing the spirit of this day then, I sincerely invite readers to regard your own lives and ask yourselves if Jesus is more truly King or Ruler in/of your life on this Feast day than he was at the beginning of Advent last year? Are you more fully alive? More true? More fruitful? Do you regard "the world" around you as something to be despised,  or do you view it more rightly as something to be loved because you see it with the eyes of God and engage creatively with it according to your calling? 

Human perfection is a matter of being in the process of coming to committed maturity (or responsible freedom!!) and fullness of life; it is about being on the path to that. Are you more perfect today than you were last year?  More complete or whole (because this truly indicates the sovereignty of God in your life)? Do you know (and so, accept) your own innate poverty and the mercy of God more fully? Are you more yourself, more moved by truth, generosity, courage, and compassion? Are you less tolerant of untruth in all of its various, subtle and not-so-subtle forms even as you love better those somehow wed to untruth? If, and to the extent you are any of these things, you know what it is to acclaim -- and proclaim with your life -- Christ as King/Ruler of creation. Alleluia, Alleluia! Let us celebrate this truth together!!

if everything happens that can't be done (or One Times One)

Forty-five years ago I did a presentation for an English class. As a result I also published my first article in the journal, The Explicator. (That the journal sent me five copies addressed to "Professor Laurel M O'Neal, Department of English" when I had merely been a Sophomore at the college was a real thrill for me!) The presentation involved two poems by e.e. cummings. One of these was "What if a Much of a Which of a Wind". The second was "1 X 1".

It never occurred to me at that point in my life that this poem might be a description of my vocation much less an explication of what I have been writing about the hiddenness and gift of eremitical life. Still, when I spoke about the sacramental "We" the hermit is to become and witness to in the silence of solitude, I realized I was thinking of this e.e. cummings' poem. It must have resonated with me far more deeply than I realized. Cummings was writing about romantic, erotic love in 1 X 1, but I think it is a wonderful celebration and explication of what I have been struggling to say about union with God, the silence of solitude, and the hiddenness of the eremitical life. After all, sexual love is a reflection of this more fundamental and transcendent union/love.


if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everytthing new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf so tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never til now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shuter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one

From Silence to the Silence of Solitude: The Imperceptible Journey

[[Dear Sister, I think of silence as a negative thing; it is something which is the absence of sound or noise. I do understand a little of what you mean when you say it is more than this but only a little. Maybe that's because I have a hard time being really quiet in prayer and when I am quiet I am afraid nothing is happening or that I am experiencing dryness or something. I mean I don't hear anything and I am supposed to be listening for God. I don't feel anything and God is supposed to be there loving me. What am I missing?]]

Thanks for a great question and especially for sharing what is a pretty intimate experience and concern. First of all I can't really say if you are missing anything, much less what that is, but I can say a little more about the nature of silence in prayer, and especially what I and others call "the silence of solitude". I also want to say something about dryness in prayer and what might be happening to you which would certainly not be dryness.

Our first and more superficial experience of silence is a "negative" thing --- not in the sense of it being without effect or constructiveness, but in the sense of taking or stripping away that which is unhelpful. It involves the quieting of noise, both external and internal, personal noise and the noise of our environment. We each experience this whenever we assure that our prayer space is conducive to prayer; it is part of clearing the space of any clutter, of journaling about the things that are really bothering us or are a matter of concern so that we can close the journal and hand it all over to God when we sit in prayer. It is a matter of stilling our breathing, relaxing our muscles, dropping our defenses and any façade we may hold because of work, etc, and simply bringing ourselves to the moment in an act of self gift and trust.

Already I think it is becoming clear that in prayer we move imperceptibly into the realm of the "positive" dimension here. We move from the things we can more or less do ourselves, the setting of the scene, to the silence which is the work of the Holy Spirit within us ---- as much God's Silence as our own. The quiet act of trust we call faith is one of these. It is an empowered act, not something we can do of ourselves. That is why theologians like Paul Tillich speak about faith as the "state of being grasped. . ." and St Paul speaks of our knowing God but even more properly, of our being known by God. (Remember that Paul does not tease these two apart; he points to the first as a true description and then to the second as even more fundamentally true.) Profound silence is similar. While our descriptions of God often focus on creative speech or word, God is also and simultaneously a transcendent Silence out of which language and all the rest of reality springs; thus we often speak of God as "abyss," ground, or depth dimension --- all of which are most fundamentally matters of a deep but vital and dynamic silence.

In prayer what happens beyond the "negative" work of coming to relative silence we all recognize as our own work is that we are taken hold of by the profound Silence which is God. When this happens it is hard or even impossible to tease apart the silence we "achieve" and the silence that is "achieved" in us. It is at these times we know the communion with God and the whole of God's creation which is most clearly and profoundly what we call the silence of solitude . You may remember that I wrote, [[. . . the silence of solitude refers to what is created within the hermit, or better put perhaps, it refers to the person . . . who is created by the dialogue with God in the hermitage.  This is what I referred to when I spoke of shalom, or the wholeness, peace, and joy that is the fruit of an eremitical life. Much of the "noisiness" of human yearning and exertion is silenced; so is the scream of self-centeredness and the inability to listen to or hear others. One is at peace with God and with oneself; one is at home with God wherever one goes.]] All of this happens in prayer and is carried through the rest of the pray-er's life.

It is the Silence of God that stills our human yearnings and striving. It is the Silence of God that meets our own tentative and struggling attempts at quiet and completes them. It is the loving, embracing, silence of God that takes hold of us in prayer, soothes our stammerings and quiets our cries of anguish and emptiness. But it does so much more than this as well. God's own Silence is the silence that holds all things together in a way which makes sense of them; it is the all-embracing quies which makes music of the individual notes and rhythms of our lives and world. It is the deepest reality out of which all creation comes and all reconciliation is achieved, the hesychia in which everything truly belongs and is one. When and to the extent the Silence of God grasps us we become God's own prayers in our world, articulate words reflecting God's life and meaning, magnificats which are the transfigured stammerings of the journey from isolation and absurdity to genuine solitude and song. There is a reason Mary is sometimes called "a woman wrapped in silence"; only part of that has to do with her struggle and pain and inability to express what she knows and ponders in her own heart. The greater part has to do with the embrace of God which holds and makes sense of all things.

I think sometimes what people mistakenly call dryness is this incredible Silence. Maybe real dryness also means resisting this silence, fearing it and refusing to entrust ourselves to it, refusing to let it take hold of us or resisting resting in it even though we also yearn for it. Personally I know that I rarely feel dryness in prayer simply because I am not hearing or sensing anything. God is present and at work --- loving, calling, touching, healing, creating --- all the things God is and does in and as profound silence. I know and trust that. More, I know Silence as the Divine reality that can and does comprehend me even as it resides and sings within me. What I am encouraging you to do is to trust this Silence, this kind of no-thing, this abyss which is actually the fullness of God --- a fullness far too "big" (such an inadequate word!) to even perceive sometimes --- and don't label what happens in prayer as "dryness" quite so quickly or easily as you might otherwise do. From my experience I would say that what we are "listening for" is this transcendent and mysterious Silence. The love we are hoping to feel is actually an experience of this profound quies and sense of being encompassed and contextualized, the experience of being comprehended in every sense of that word by the Silence which is God.

As a kind of postscript, let me say that it is this Silence I think e. e. cummings knew when he wrote the wonderful poem I have had in the side bar of my blog since the day of my profession.





love is a place
& in this place of
love move
(with brightness of peace)
all places

yes is a world
& in this world of
yes live
(skillfully curled)
all worlds

Fifth Anniversary of Perpetual Eremitical Consecration

Today is the fifth anniversary of my perpetual eremitical profession/consecration (though I have lived religious life for 37+ years.) Five years ago I belonged to my parish, of course, and people knew me and celebrated with me. Today, however, they are my family --- part of the very fabric of my life --- and this weekend many of us celebrated not only my birthday (yesterday) but the past five years and the journey we have made together (Friday and today). I feel so greatly blessed it is almost overwhelming --- an embarrassment of riches --- as I told Marietta today.

Thus, five years ago at the reception following my consecration my pastor quoted e e cummings:

I thank you God for most this amazing
day, for the leaping greenly spirit of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,

and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth

day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay

great happening illimitably earth

how should tasting touching hearing seeing

breathing any --- lifted from the no

of all nothing --- human merely being

doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and

now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

It was hard to believe the joy of that day might be eclipsed by greater joy or the life it marked could grow even broader and deeper (though I hoped!!). But that is the truth of things. I thank God for most this amazing day and for all those who today are such an integral part of its deepest meaning. Some of this is echoed in the slide show from five years ago. The eyes of my eyes continue to open, the ears of my ears continue to be awakened. That is the promise of the Kingdom!

1(a by ee cummings

It is spring (or almost so!) and Lent as well: a bittersweet and holy time of preparation for new growth and new life even as older things die away or fall by the wayside. This morning I found myself thinking of a poem by ee cummings, one of the most perfect poems I have ever read or seen. I wanted to share it here because in just four words (give or take!) it captures the bittersweetness of this time so very well, and, in its own way it captures the nature of the eremitical vocation too. Like a single raindrop, or a diamond culled from the earth it encapsulates the story of the cosmos. I would ask you to pay attention to every nuance in the orthography, the ambiguities in meaning, what cummings manages to suggest visually by his division and spacing of letters, what happens within and without the parentheses, etc. Remember too that in the original font the lower case L looked like a 1 -- something I tried to duplicate but which is unclear in the published version.



l(a

le
af
fa

ll

s)
one
l

iness

So, when I read this poem I see two interrelated portions. Outside the parentheses there is: 1 (. . .) oneliness and this can also be read as loneliness. The section within the parentheses captures the fall of a leaf: "a leaf falls" with the visual zig-zagging or to-ing and fro-ing that might occur during such an event. The fall of the leaf points to an entire life cycle --- a cycle we each reprise as individuals. For ee cummings I think that "oneliness" or being "1" also points to integrity and integrity is a challenging and lonely business sometimes. It involves dying -- and for the hermit dying to self as well as living and dying "alone". Ultimately, however, every life is essentially solitary. For e.e. cummings a leaf is completely itself --- and so too are we each meant to be. This essential integrity as value, especially as it linked to love and the capacity for love (including love of God) seems to me to run throughout cummings' poetry. The beauty and simplicity of such a life is certainly captured amazingly well in this poem-as-snapshot.

In time of daffodils

Painting, Blue Lilies, by Sister Kristine Haugen, ocdh (Link to Sister's hermitage and art can be found in the second (lower and darker blue) right hand column; please check these out!)
__________________________

in time of daffodils(who know
the goal of living is to grow)
forgetting why,remember how

in time of lilacs who proclaim
the aim of waking is to dream,
remember so(forgetting seem)

in time of roses(who amaze
our now and here with paradise)
forgetting if, remember yes

in time of all sweet things beyond
whatever mind may comprehend,
remember seek(forgetting find)

and in a mystery to be
(when time from time shall set us free)
forgetting me, remember me

e.e.cummings (16 of 95 Poems)

"We're wonderful One Times One"

I read today a blog entry by someone talking about "studying about love" and "reading about union with God." I was struck by how important it is to be instructed in love by loving (and failing to love!), and to learn about union with God by allowing him to love us and falling in love with him in return; we learn about union by being estranged, reconciled, and united. Afterall, there are some things we only really learn about in the doing of them, and while I am a great student in the academic sense, I know too that there are simply some things that reading "about" really means postponing the doing of. Mysticism is a fascinating subject; so are eremitism and prayer more generally. But at some point, books fail. They are completely inadequate to the incommensurate experience of union with God --- to ANY degree at all, even the slightest inkling of such a state!

In this context, I was reminded of the line of a poem by e e cummings, "(and birds sing sweeter than books tell how)"! In fact, when I looked up the poem, which I had last read many years ago, there were a whole series of comments on the inadequacy of book learning in this matter of love, and also, a focus on the reality of the union of love. As the poet also affirmed, when we have experienced genuine union, whether that is with another person, or with God himself then, "(books are/shutter/than books can be)"! So, while I suspect e e cummings was speaking of falling in love with another person, there is no reason this poem does not refer equally well to contemplative knowledge of communion with God gleaned from prayer.

In fact, the rhythm and structure of the poem catch at my heart like Celtic fiddle music, and I am reminded of the joy captured by Charles Schultz and the animators that collaborated with him in his pictures of "the Snoopy Dance"! These always make me think how "right" they are to the experience of prayer, how well they express the joy which results from a life lived in light of such a reality. Once again e e cummings has said something better, with greater charm, spontaneity, and joy, than I could ever hope to.

if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everything new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf so tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away and so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never till now


now I love you and you love me
(and books are shutter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everyanything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one

(From the Collected Poems, "1 X 1", or "One Times One")

E.E. Cummings has the words!!!

Still working on processing all that happened at the Profession Mass. It helps to look at the pictures and reread some of the words: Bishop Vigneron said at the end of Mass: The Mass is ended; we have seen great mysteries;. . . ." and I think he was exctly right. I really don't have words yet (if ever!). However, my pastor, Fr John, reminded me that e.e. cummings DID have words appropriate to the day, when he recited from memory the following:

i thank you God for most this amazing
day; for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

{i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday;this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings:and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any --- lifted from the no
of all nothing --- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)


People continue to ask me if I feel different. I had not expected to, but yes, I do. When lying prostrate for those five or six minutes listening to my community call upon the whole church, in heaven and on earth, to attend and participate in what was to happen, it was tremendously profound. And it simply continued that way throughout the profession, granting of the ring and cowl, and kiss of peace. Receiving Communion after all this felt different too, eventhough Christ and I had been linked nuptially before this. So yes, now the ears of my ears awake, and the eyes of my eyes are opened! God has indeed worked great mysteries in the hearts of his people, and most especially, on this day at least, in my own!

Dependence upon God

Preparing for perpetual profession has been stressful. And yet, there is a whole other side to it: the side of silence and of God's love for me, and my gradual, sometimes halting yielding to that love. I was rereading my favorite poet, e.e. cummings and the following poem reminded me of the journey these past years have been, and above all how it is that God's immense power is communicated to us in the weakness and self-emptying of Jesus' or the Spirit's gentle touch.

somewhere i have never travelled gladly beyond
any experience, your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if it be your wish to close me,i and
my life will shut very beautifully,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the colour of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody, not even the rain,has such small hands

e.e. cummings LVII Complete Poems, 1904-1962

a man fallen among thieves

Tonight's Gospel reminded me of the following poem by e.e. cummings. He captures so very well, what being a good samaritan involves for us sometimes, and more, simply being a Christian for the least of the least amongst us.

a man who had fallen among thieves


a man who had fallen among thieves
lay by the roadside on his back
dressed in fifteenthrate ideas
wearing a round jeer for a hat

fate per a somewhat more than less
emancipated evening
had in return for consciousness
endowed him with a changeless grin

whereon a dozen staunch and leal
citizens did graze at pause
then fired by hypercivic zeal
sought newer pastures or because

swaddled with a frozen brook
of pinkest vomit out of eyes
which noticed nobody he looked
as if he did not care to rise

one hand did nothing on the vest
its wideflung friend clenched weakly dirt
while the mute trouserfly confessed
a button solemnly inert.

Brushing from whom the stiffened puke
i put him all into my arms
and staggered banged with terror through
a million billion trillion stars

ee cummings

I will have to look to see what book of poems this one is originally from, but it is contained in the Complete Poems of E.E.Cummings.