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Posts tagged ‘Winter’

Feb 17

Dayspring Eastering

“The world is charged with the grandeur of God.”― Gerard Manley Hopkins

“ELECTED Silence, sing to me
And beat upon my whorlèd ear,
Pipe me to pastures still and be
The music that I care to hear.”
― Gerard Manley Hopkins, Poems and Prose

Flowers amongst the weeds
Sun behind the clouds
Love beneath the fear
Forefront and backdrop
Choosing beauty to feed and sustain
Transforming ordinary into extraordinary
With a tilt of the head
Opening of the heart
Arms outstretched
Charged with grandeur
Elected silence
Dayspring eastering.

“Let Him easter in us, be a dayspring to the dimness of us, be a crimson-cresseted east.”― Gerard Manley Hopkins

Feb 4

Plentitude of Color

“Now shall I walk or shall I ride?
‘Ride,’ Pleasure said;
‘Walk,’ Joy replied.”
― W.H. Davies

“Within the grip of winter, it is almost impossible to imagine the spring.
The gray perished landscape is shorn of color.
Only bleakness meets the eye; everything seems severe and edged.
Winter is the oldest season; it has some quality of the absolute. Yet beneath the surface of winter, the miracle of spring is already in preparation; the cold is relenting; seeds are wakening up.
Colors are beginning to imagine how they will return.
Then, imperceptibly, somewhere one bud opens and the symphony of renewal is no longer reversible. From the black heart of winter a miraculous, breathing plenitude of color emerges.” – John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

Notes forming, taking shape to melody, spilling into symphony
Quiet to distant echoes of birds chorus
Bulbs shifting, preparing to bud
Chrysalis to butterfly
Beauty on every path
Walk softly, slowly with joyful intent
Colors asleep with imagination of brilliance to come
Winter well
Spring awaits our rested and renewed attention and awe
Symphony of renewal no longer reversible when seasons kiss.

“But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.”― George Eliot, Middlemarch

Jan 18

Varieties of Presence

“The pine stays green in winter… wisdom in hardship.” – Norman Douglas

“At any time you can ask yourself: At which threshold am I now standing?
At this time in my life, what am I leaving?
Where am I about to enter?
What is preventing me from crossing my next threshold?
What gift would enable me to do it?
A threshold is not a simple boundary; it is a frontier that divides two different territories, rhythms, and atmospheres.
Indeed, it is a lovely testimony to the fullness and integrity of an experience or a stage of life that it intensifies toward the end into a real frontier that cannot be crossed without the heart being passionately engaged and woken up.
At this threshold a great complexity of emotion comes alive: confusion, fear, excitement, sadness, hope. This is one of the reasons such vital crossings were always clothed in ritual.
It is wise in your own life to be able to recognize and acknowledge the key thresholds: to take your time; to feel all the varieties of presence that accrue there;
to listen inward with complete attention until you hear the inner voice calling you forward.
The time has come to cross.” – John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

Varieties of presence
Narrow and wide
Clear and cloudy
Middle ground of ordinary days
To bridges and thresholds
Before and after
Transitions to transformations
Pause, mark then move
Cross over, walk through, other side
Frontiers of growth.

“But high on mountains,
the pines stand praying,
their voices whisper low
as they chant together
an ageless measure,
‘Reach out and up, and grow!’
– Lorraine Babbitt, Tree Portraits

Dec 28

Firing Up the Landscape

“Prayer is a small fire lit to keep cold hands warm. Prayer is a practice that flourishes both with faith and doubt. Prayer is asking, and prayer is sitting. Prayer is the breath. Prayer is not an answer, always, because not all questions can be answered.”― Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community

Red Bird by Mary Oliver

“Red bird came all winter
Firing up the landscape
As nothing else could.
Of course I love the sparrows,
Those dun-colored darlings,
So hungry and so many.
I am a God-fearing feeder of birds,
I know he has many children,
Not all of them bold in spirit.
Still, for whatever reason-
Perhaps because the winter is so long
And the sky so black-blue,
Or perhaps because the heart narrows
As often as it opens-
I am grateful
That red bird comes all winter
Firing up the landscape
As nothing else can do.”

On the way but not arrived
Space between ending and beginning
Hallway between rooms
In this quiet space between the end of the year and the beginning of the new
Holiday hurrying to winter slowing
Reflect and frame
Slow and discard
Plan and allow
Gratitude and grace
Color brighter on the backdrop of the season
Red birds pause
Firing up the landscape
Look around.

“The only place to begin is where I am, and whether by desire or disaster, I am here. My being here is not dependent on my recognition of the fact. I am here anyway. But it might help if I could learn to look around.”― Pádraig Ó Tuama, In the Shelter: Finding a Home in the World

Dec 21

Inflection Point

“I need rituals that encourage me to embrace what is repetitive, ancient, and quiet. But what I crave is novelty and stimulation.”― Tish Harrison Warren, Liturgy of the Ordinary: Sacred Practices in Everyday Life

“The winter solstice has always been special to me as a barren darkness that gives birth to a verdant future beyond imagination, a time of pain and withdrawal that produces something joyfully inconceivable, like a monarch butterfly masterfully extracting itself from the confines of its cocoon, bursting forth into unexpected glory.” – Gary Zukav

Longest day of darkness.
Tipping point.
The start of light returning slowly.
Wintering to prepare for spring.
Do not bypass, resist, reject the gift of winter.
To pause, to slow, to rest.
Depth of time.
Gravity of presence.
Seasons, cycles, circles.
Cocoon to butterfly.
Seed to bloom.
Sun rise, sun set.
Inflection point.
The word solstice comes from the Latin words sol (sun) and sistere (to stand still).
Stand still, new life unfolding.

“Both the Winter and the Summer Solstices are expressions of love. They show us the opposition of light and dark, expansion and contraction, that characterize our experiences in the Earth school so that we can recognize our options as we move through our lives.” – Gary Zukav

Dec 11

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To the Earth Below

“You know that the antidote to exhaustion is not necessarily rest? … The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.”― David Whyte, Crossing the Unknown Sea

Winter Snow
Lyrics by Chris Tomlin, sung by Audrey Assad

“You could’ve come like a mighty storm
With all the strength of a hurricane
You could’ve come like a forest fire
With the power of heaven in Your flame

But You came like a winter snow
Quiet and soft and slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the Earth below

Oh, You could’ve swept in like a tidal wave
Or a big ocean to ravish our hearts
You could have come through like a roaring flood
To wipe away the things that we’ve scarred

Oh, but He came like a winter snow
So quiet, so soft, so slow
Falling from the sky in the night
To the Earth below”

Waking to a coating of fresh snow.
First real one of the season.
A surprise.
Quiet. Soft. Slow.
Still. Small. Hidden.
Present.
Beautiful.
Advent summed up.
Let it unfold in your heart.
In the waiting.
In the winding roads.
In the delays and detours.
Spring blooming in winter.

“But what would that be like
feeling the tide rise
out of the numbness inside”― David Whyte, Where Many Rivers Meet

Dec 2

Season of Light

“There is a quiet light that shines in every heart. It draws no attention to itself though it is always secretly there. It is what illuminates our minds to see beauty, our desire to seek possibility and our hearts to love life.” – John O’Donohue

“That luminous part of you that exists beyond personality–your soul, if you will–is as bright and shining as any that has ever been….Clear away everything that keeps you separate from this secret luminous place. Believe it exists, come to know it better, nurture it, share its fruits tirelessly.”― George Saunders

Luminous.
Light.
Energy.
Thin spaces.
Quiet, steady light within.
Shine.
Christmas unfolding slowly.
Enter the season of light.

“During Advent, we occupy our greatest longings.”– Ruth Haley Barton

Nov 30

Geography of Seasons

“May my mind come alive today
To the invisible geography
That invites me to new frontiers,
To break the dead shell of yesterdays,
To risk being disturbed and changed.
May I have the courage today
To live the life that I would love,
To postpone my dream no longer
But do at last what I came here for
And waste my heart on fear no more.” – John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us

“There are no manuals for the construction of the individual you would like to become. You are the only one who can decide this and take up the lifetime of work that it demands. This is a wonderful privilege and such an exciting adventure. To grow into the person that your deepest longing desires is a great blessing. If you can find a creative harmony between your soul and your life, you will have found something infinitely precious. You may not be able to do much about the great problems of the world or to change the situation you are in, but if you can awaken the eternal beauty and light of your soul, you will bring light wherever you go. The gift of life is given to us for ourselves and also to bring peace, courage, and compassion to others.” – John O’Donohue, Eternal Echoes

Changing seasons.
Without and within.
Parallel, alignment, rhythm.
Transitions, thresholds, crossings.
Stillness, pause, restoration.
Invisible geography.
Territory to travel.
Daily.
The path of becoming, unfolding, unfurling.
Awaken.
Bring light wherever you go.

Nov 26

Hushed Expectations

“Never be so focused on what you’re looking for that you overlook the thing you actually find.”― Ann Patchett, State of Wonder

“May you grow still enough to hear the small noises earth makes in preparing for the long sleep of winter, so that you yourself may grow calm and grounded deep within.

May you grow still enough to hear the trickling of water seeping into the ground, so that your soul may be softened and healed, and guided in its flow. May you grow still enough to hear the splintering of starlight in the winter sky and the roar at earth’s fiery core.

May you grow still enough to hear the stir of a single snowflake in the air, so that your inner silence may turn into hushed expectation.” – Brother David Steindl-Rast

Grow still enough.
Soft heart.
Quiet works.
Hushed expectation.
Ground within.
Grow still enough.

“Great works are often quiet works.”― James Martin, The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything: A Spirituality for Real Life

Nov 23

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Spring Under Construction

“Snow creates that quality of awe in the face of a power greater than ours. It epitomises the aesthetic notion of the sublime, in which greatness and beauty couple to overcome you—a small, frail human—entirely.”― Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

“Winter is the oldest season; it has some quality of the absolute. Yet beneath the surface of winter, the miracle of spring is already in preparation; the cold is relenting; seeds are wakening up. Colors are beginning to imagine how they will return. Then, imperceptibly, somewhere one bug opens and the symphony of renewal is no longer reversible. From the black heart of winter a miraculous, breathing plenitude of color emerges.

The beauty of nature insists on taking its time. Everything is prepared. Nothing is rushed. The rhythm of emergence is a gradual slow beat always inching its way forward; change remains faithful to itself until the new unfolds in the full confidence of true arrival. Because nothing is abrupt, the beginning of spring nearly always catches us unawares. It is there before we see it; and then we can look nowhere without seeing it.”― John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessings

To enter winter.
Without resistance.
A welcoming.
Curiosity.
Quieting and preparation.
Softening and slowing.
The place, space, foothold of transformation.
Time and timing.
Spring under construction.

“Winter is not the death of the life cycle, but its crucible.”― Katherine May, Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times

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