The Color Of Stories

“After nourishment, shelter and companionship,

stories are the thing we need most in the world.” 

(Philip Pullman)

Once upon a time... These words bear the power to make us sit up and take notice; they evoke an igniting of our imagination. Once upon a time... there was a castle, a distant place, a giant, a child... Down through humanity's long journey of evolution, as far back as cave drawings and oral tradition convey - stories have been the loom upon which the cloth of connection and community have been woven.

Stories have the power to take us to places we have never physically visited. In story we transcend our limitations, expand our potential, and discover both our demons and our brilliance. 

“Stories can conquer fear, you know.

They can make the heart bigger.” 

(Ben Okri)

Jesus, Buddha, and the many teachers who followed them used story to open their listener's hearts and minds. Once upon a time, said Jesus,"There was a certain creditor who had two debtors..." Once upon a time, begins the Buddha, "there was a deer, a bird, and a turtle..." Immediately their audience is taken to new places, envisioning previously unconsidered possibilities. 

One of my great joys in life is the receiving, and holding, of stories from those I encounter along the way. Over and again I am privileged to be taken into someone's world as they share their perspective on life and the roads upon which they have traveled. The telling and receiving of stories is a place without judgment, a landscape in which nothing is required beyond the mutual experience of being immersed in the story. 

“The purpose of a storyteller

is not to tell you how to think,

but to give you questions to think upon.” 

(Brandon Sanderson, The Way of Kings)

Sometimes, though, when someone invites me into their world through the doorway of a vignette, I forget that we are entering a sacred space together. Something in the story might push one of my buttons, provoke a reaction, and suddenly the wonder and mystery of story is rendered powerless as I counter, deny, or argue against the storyteller. 

Perhaps, though, this too is part and parcel of storytelling - that the listener is so drawn into the unfolding saga that they become a voice in the telling. A case in point was an experience at the Sundre Cafe a few weeks ago. Anna and I stopped in for coffee; at a nearby table a group of local men were having their daily dose of java and conversation. Their banter was loud enough for the whole cafe to enjoy. It was stories - of life, politics, hopes, and frustrations. They were weavers, sending the shuttle of story across the loom of life. As I walked out I stopped and chatted for a moment - so powerful was their tale that I could not resist being drawn in.

At the end of the day I close my eyes with a heart and head filled with stories - my story intersecting with the narrative of countless others. I am deeply grateful for stories, in all their forms, for within them I find the space to discover you, me, and this great mystery that is called life. 

So, I have a request of you. If you are willing, share some of your story with me. I will listen deeply, without judgment, and will honor the sacred space that story creates.

I leave the last word to Steven Moffat:

“We're all stories, in the end.” 

(Steven Moffat)

The color of stories...

once upon a time!

When we don't

know what

to say

Story

Lights

the way

The inexpressible

finds

its

voice

Tell

Listen

Breathe

To Ponder Further:

- From the Bible: " "Therefore the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who wished to settle accounts with his servants..." (Matthew 18.23; www.rc.net/wcc/parabl42.htm_

- From Hinduism: "Once, an ascetic who was on a pilgrimage came to a village. Just on the outskirts of the village..." (Source unknown; www.hindujagruti.org/hinduism-for-kids/692.html)

- From Cree legend: "I will tell the legend of the bear. I heard my grandmother tell this one – the one about the bear that lived with a child. This was how she told it." ("The Bear and the Child" Told by Joseph Guanish; www.nationnews.ca/the-bear-and-the-child/)

The Color of Contentment

“Be content with what you have;

rejoice in the way things are.

When you realize there is nothing lacking,

the whole world belongs to you.” 

(Lao Tzu)

As the end of my 50th year peeks over the horizon I find myself oftentimes bathed in a deep sense of contentment. My life is filled with nourishing elements - healthy family, friends, meaningful work, and at this point in July... a backyard filled with flowers of every color. In fact, I can truly say that I lack for nothing.

“I am content;

that is a blessing greater than riches;

and he to whom that is given

need ask no more.” 

(Henry Fielding)

My sense of contentment is, however, hugely counter-cultural. The flyers in the paper, the local billboards, and every bit of social media seek to inculcate a sense of discontentment. In fact, our consumer society depends upon my discontent to fuel its endless drive for economic growth. "Newer and better" beckon from TV and radio commercials, even as the Jones' next door drive up in a shiny new something-or-other. 

“Are these things

really better than the things I already have?

Or am I just trained

to be dissatisfied with what I have now?” 

(Chuck Palahniuk, Lullaby)

I am content. Content to follow my passions, to forgive any perceived wrongs, to be kind, playful, and occasionally when I am tired and hungry - content to be a bit grouchy. I don't feel like I have any energy to be running after the next best opportunity, guru, or thingamabob. I walk down a gravel road with my hound and I am deeply grateful for the whisper of the wind in the fields of barley, billowing white clouds (or more often than not the dark grey thunderheads) overhead, and the incredible beauty that permeates life.

In all of this I am grateful. I have many growing edges, I am far from the person I will someday grow to be; in this too, though I am content. I am okay with me today. That is enough. I do not have the power to end this world's suffering and madness; I do, however, have the ability to make a choice about how I live my life. I will not contribute to the war of endlessly hungering for more. Today is enough for me. 

I leave the last word to the apostle Paul in his letter to the Philippians:

"...for I have learned to be content

whatever the circumstances.

I know what it is to be in need,

and I know what it is to have plenty.

I have learned the secret of being content

in any and every situation,

whether well fed or hungry,

whether living in plenty or in want."

(Philippians 4.11b-12)

The color of contentment...

a deep sigh of peace.

Enough

is

enough

is

enough

You cannot

add

to

already

full

Breathe

Pray

be at Peace

To Ponder Further:

- From the Bible: "Now godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into this world, and it is certain[a] we can carry nothing out.  And having food and clothing, with these we shall be content." (1 Timothy 6.6-8)

- From Confucianism: "The Master said, 'In the morning, hear the Way; in the evening, die content!'" (Analects 4.8)

- From Buddhism: "Just as a deep lake is clear and still, even so, on hearing the teachings and realizing them, the wise become exceedingly peaceful. (Dhammapada 82)

The Color of Remembering

“Her ability to use language,

that thing that most separates humans from animals,

was leaving her,

and she was feeling less and less human

as it departed.” 

(Lisa Genova, Still Alice)

Week by week my father, who is in palliative care, is slipping away from me. It is not so much that his body is dwindling, though he is diminished in physical bearing; rather, like a faded photograph, he is becoming blurred at the edges. The mild dementia he experienced prior to breaking his hip has escalated to a near-advanced state. 

When I looked into dad's eyes at our last visit I had to peer deeply to find him looking back. For a moment he would smile and ask something, or sing a line from a song with me, and then the light would dim and he was once again seeing worlds hidden from my limited view.

“I am so small I can barely be seen.

How can this great love be inside me?

Look at your eyes. They are small,

but they see enormous things.” 

(Rumi, The Essential Rumi)

I miss my dad - miss the jokes he would tell, miss him asking how we are all doing. I miss the intelligence and gentleness that shone through his beautiful brown eyes. As I nudge up against grief I feel parts of myself eroding, a weathering of the granite of my being. And yet, at the same time something deep and rich is revealed in the erosion - I realize that the heart of my dad was imperfectly expressed in words, providing only a meager glimpse into the soul behind his eyes. Though dusk falls upon his wakening, a greater light in stillness beckons notice.

Though Huxley (“Every man's memory is his private literature.”) and Gillies (“You only know yourself because of your memories.”) may refute it, I suggest that we are more than our memories. The Love of which we are comprised is not limited to neurons and synaptic pathways, or to the delicate processing of long and short term memory. Love pervades every cell, every molecule, each and every atom that gives us physical presence. We were Love before we were flesh; we will be Love when our atoms have returned to the earth.

All this to say that though dad's memories and general cognition decline, who he is, who he has always been, is becoming distilled. I sit at his bedside now, not to share conversation, but simply to bask in presence, in heart and soul. At an upcoming visit his eyes will no longer be a pathway to the man who helped shape my life; he will have cocooned himself in preparation for a great metamorphosis. He will not be gone, only stilled beneath the gentle mantle of a quiet mind.

Parts of me sorrow for what I perceive to be loss; parts of me rejoice that Love is not confined by the limits imposed by one's body and its warranty. Dad is slipping away, even as he draws nearer.

I leave the last word to author Janet Turpin Myers:

“Was the dementia of old age a blessing in disguise?

No more thoughts.

No more damage inflicted.

No more memories of damage survived.” 

(Janet Turpin Myers, the last year of confusion)

The color of remembering...

letting go.

Grasping water

in my

hands

only

soaks the

ground

Water

grasping me

bathes

my being

Breathe

Pray

Be

To Ponder Further:

- From the Bible: "My mouth shall speak wisdom; the meditation of my heart shall be understanding. I will incline my ear to a proverb; I will solve my riddle to the music of the lyre." (Psalm 49.3-4)

- From Korean traditional religion: "The one that is visible begins from the invisible. The invisible consists of three ultimates, and their essence is infinite." (Chun Boo Kyung)

- From Hinduism: "Now my breath and spirit goes to the Immortal, and this body ends in ashes; OM. O Mind! remember. Remember the deeds. Remember the actions." (Isha Upanishad 17, Yajur Veda 40.15)

The Color of Acceptance

“You are imperfect,

permanently and inevitably flawed.

And you are beautiful.” 

(Amy Bloom)

A couple of weeks into my time working with Anna through tax season I had an epiphany. I have, for a long time, struggled with anxiety when confronted with circumstances that involve a steep learning curve. The second week of my short admin career was painted upon a canvass of anxiousness and gut-churning. I didn't know why I felt this way, but I knew it was an old feeling, long familiar. Coffee with friends later in the week brought to light an aspect of my being that I have never understood.

“The most terrifying thing

is to accept oneself completely.” 

(C.G. Jung)

Since grade one I have struggled to process the flow of information with which I am presented. Turns out that it's not my ability to understand that is in question, but rather the volume and speed at which I am receiving new information, and thus my ability to incorporate it. My brain, it seems, likes to digest new things in small amounts. For all of my nearly 50 years I have considered this to be a great flaw - a failing of sorts, easily moving to shame when I don't understand procedures or instructions, when I feel "stupid."

Now though, I am beginning to see that I function just fine - at my own pace. In fact, a spark of respect is forming within me for the grade-one boy who struggled on through a seeming torrent of new learnings and did not quit. Bit by bit life is teaching me to accept the fabric of which I am woven - threads whole and threads worn, or even broken. As I grow I am challenging my own potential, even as I accept my limitations.

"'You have peace,' the old woman said,

'when you make it with yourself.'"

(Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet in Heaven)

Perhaps being human means that we are, at the same time, creatures dancing with both possibilities and restrictions. We excel in one area even as we struggle with another. What is effortless for me frustrates someone else; what befuddles me comes seamlessly to another. We do not all have the same gifts or opportunities, nor do we always share common challenges or struggles. We do, however, all have some gifts to share, and some limitations within which we live. 

“Being challenged in life is inevitable,

being defeated is optional.” 

(Roger Crawford)

We all spend too much time and energy beating ourselves up over what we do not like about our bodies, jobs

, relationships, or thoughts... Instead, we could invest that energy into being our best, accepting the aspects we consider flawed, and working to change the bits that are changeable. At the end of the day, how we treat ourselves is a reflection of the way we will relate to others. Jesus challenged us with the notion that the Love through which we relate to our neighbor will be grounded upon the Love that we have for ourselves. 

As I grow to more deeply accept myself I am growing to more deeply accept the people around me - and this is a wondrous positive ripple in our world. Be gentle with you today - you are a gift of Love to the world, just as you are.

I leave the last word to Marilyn Monroe:

“Wanting to be someone else

is a waste of the person you are.” 

(Marilyn Monroe)

The color of acceptance...

falling into grace.

Self-judgement

chains

the heart

Love

breaks

chains

Breathe

Pray

Laugh

To Ponder Further:

From the Bible: "Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me..." (Psalm 139.16)

From Taoism: “Because one believes in oneself, one doesn't try to convince others. Because one is content with oneself, one doesn't need others' approval. Because one accepts oneself, the whole world accepts him or her.”
― Lao Tzu

From Buddhism: "Searching all directions with one’s awareness, one finds no one dearer than oneself. In the same way, others are fiercely dear to themselves.
So one should not hurt others if one loves oneself." (Rājan Sutta: The King" [Ud 5.1], translated from the Pali by Thanissaro Bhikkhu)

The Color of Sex 

“A sex symbol becomes a thing.

I hate being a thing.” 

(Marilyn Monroe)

It's a bit premature, but I was thinking about chickweed recently - particularly its propensity for rapid reproduction. One plant, maturing in five to six weeks, can produce up to 25,000 seeds! Seriously - how do you keep something curbed that is filled with such vitality?

While most gardeners consider chickweed (also called stitchwort, winterweed, or stellaria) as an undesirable garden guest, it is a wonderful medicinal herb to include in our summer feasting. According to various web-resources, chickweed can be used as a vegetable or as a salad green. The whole plant is used to treat cuts, and also to relieve itching caused by eczema and psoriasis. Chickweed is also reputed to be good for rheumatism. Overall, a wonderful expression of Love's healing presence in our natural world.

Still, healing properties aside, I don't want the entire garden covered with chickweed; if left unattended it will choke out the life of other desirable plants. Which brings us to this week's theme - sexuality.

The gift of human sexuality and physical intimacy is very much like chickweed. Loving touch has wondrous healing potential within the context of loving relationships. Besides the biological necessity of propagating the species, sexual intimacy can be a symbol of the rich nuances of a couple's Love. Emerging from the playful heart, physical Love is an unparalleled gift inherent to our experience in this incarnate world. 

“I have no objection to anyone’s sex life

as long as they don’t practice it in the street

and frighten the horses.” 

(Oscar Wilde)

However, like chickweed, sexuality has a terrible propensity for mass expression and proliferation. In the last century we have seen the dissemination of sexual imagery spread to infiltrate every aspect of our culture. Sex is used to sell all manner of products, with seductive pictures and video plastered on billboards, TV commercials, movies, and even within prime-time TV viewing. Like a noxious weed, sexuality in its most vulgar forms has crept across the landscape of our lives. 

“A girl in a bikini is like having a loaded gun on your coffee table -

there's nothing wrong with them, but it's hard to stop thinking about.” 

(Garrison Keillor)

And there's the problem - especially for men. Sex is constantly and flagrantly before us, and the overt message is that we should have sex with whomever, whenever we want it. To such a degree is sexuality flaunted that other dynamics of human relating are choked out. Sex becomes all that is important, the only indicator of relational health. Like chickweed, sex overgrows the garden of our relationships, consuming the other delicate plants that are essential to our well-being. Put frankly, there are more important elements to human relationships than sex! However, if we read any magazine, billboard, romance novel, or newspaper we will be lead to believe that sex is all there is to a relationship. Paul states it eloquently in Corinthians, as translated in the "The Message":

"There’s more to sex than mere skin on skin. Sex is as much spiritual mystery as physical fact. As

written in Scripture, 'The two become one.' Since we want to become spiritually one with the Master, we must not pursue the kind of sex that avoids commitment and intimacy, leaving us more lonely than ever—the kind of sex that can never 'become one.'.. The physical part of you is not some piece of property belonging to the spiritual part of you. God owns the whole works. So let people see God in and through your body."

(1 Corinthians 6:18 "The Message")

I am tired of being bombarded by sexual imagery everywhere I look, tired of my male sexual triggers being provoked by the noxious weed of this world's obsession. Our sexuality is a gift, full of life-giving, healing potential. Used in the right dose, like chickweed, it builds us up, strengthens the heart and soul, and reflects the image of Love within. Left to run rampant, as it has, it chokes out the joy of our beautiful bodies. I pray that we will find a way to prune back this plant to its rightful place within our lives, to a place that grows healthy families, and healthy communities. 

I leave the last word to novelist Jack Kerouac

“Boys and girls in America have such a sad time together;

sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately 

without proper preliminary talk.

Not courting talk — real straight talk about souls,

for life is holy and every moment is precious.” 

(Jack Kerouac, On the Road)

The color of sex...

longing of the body, shining of the soul

Rain

is good

until it's a flood

Air gives life

until hurricanes blow

Sun

we must have

but not sun alone

all things

in balance

all

in proportion

Breathe

touch

Love

To Ponder Further:

- From the Bible: "That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh." (Genesis 2.24)

- From Islam: "Is he who relies on a clear proof from his Lord like those for whom theevil that they do seems pleasing while they follow their own lusts?" (Qur'an 47.14)

- From Confucianism: "Confucius said, "I have never seen anyone whose desire to build up his
moral power was as strong as sexual desire."" (Analects 9.17 and 15.12)

The Color of New Beginnings

“For last year's words belong to last year's language

And next year's words await another voice.

And to make an end is to make a beginning."

(T.S. Eliot, Little Gidding)

The last year and a half has been an exploration of life's alleys and avenues, most of which were paths entirely unplanned from my perspective. After leaving parish work I had no distinct destination in mind, outside of resting and getting my feet back under me. It is not easy to retool from parish work into the general work force; while the wisdom and skills that fermented through church work are applicable in numerous settings, a church work resume is challenging to sell to non-religious employers. 

Nonetheless, I have been attentive to opportunities as they have arisen, and this week witnesses yet another twist in the path. My friend Mary drew my attention to a job posting a few weeks back. Though I dismissed it at first I kept coming back to the ad, pondering possibilities. So, I applied, was interviewed, and subsequently offered the position of grief and bereavement coordinator for the Hospice Society of Camrose and District. 

“You raze the old to raise the new.” 

(Justina Chen, North of Beautiful)

Though they can be painful, and often unsettling, life's changes are always an intricate dance of grief and hope. Letting go of previous experiences draws us onto that old familiar road of sorrow - grieving what was, even as we may be fearful of, or longing for the unknown path ahead. And then comes a doorway along the path; unforeseen ventures beckon, ripe with potential. Pausing in the glen of yesterday's grief too long will mean that today's opportunity will pass us by. There is a time for grief, and grieve we must; even more so there is a time for new life, new beginnings.

“But there's a beginning in an end, you know?

It's true that you can't reclaim what you had,

but you can lock it up behind you.

Start fresh.” 

(Alexandra Bracken, The Darkest Minds)

Our yesterday's are the soil from which grows the fruit that is today's wisdom. If we look back too long as we move ahead we will smack into the doorpost that is the next opportunity. It does take some courage to plant our feet on the path, to sojourn to places unknown. Is that not, however, a delicious and flavourful part of life - new beginnings, life from the ashes of the old?

Perhaps you are contemplating a new start? Take time to bid farewell to what was; grieve what has been razed, and then orient your toes in the direction of the star that draws you. You are a beautiful soul, and a new beginning might just be waiting to receive your gifts and and the Love that is you.

I leave the last word to author, Cynthia Occelli:

“For a seed to achieve its greatest expression,

it must come completely undone.

The shell cracks,

its insides come out

and everything changes.

To someone who doesn't understand growth,

it would look like complete destruction.”

(Cynthia Occelli)

The color of new beginnings...

deep sighs, deep breaths.

Wake

up

see

what

is 

before

you

Pause

Breathe

Listen

To Ponder Further:

- From the Bible: "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29.11)

- From Judaism: "Repentance makes man a new creature; hitherto dead through sin, he is fashioned afresh." (Midrash, Psalms 18)

- From Buddhism: "Although his parents were unwilling and tears poured down their cheeks, the recluse Gotama, having cut off hair and beard and donned saffron robes, went forth from home into homelessness." (Digha Nikaya i.115)

The Color of Revenge

“I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for.” 

(J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban)

High school gym class was, for me, an exercise in fear. Our phys. ed. teacher willingly turned a blind eye to numerous incidents of bullying, and participated by adding his own belittling comments when they might elicit a laugh from the class. That was decades ago, yet I still remember the gut-clenching feeling of heading down the hall to the gym. I have often thought about going back in time as I am now... to do what? Bully the bullies? Settle the score?

Hunger for revenge has been the catalyst for a cascade of human suffering that spans eons. One clan wounded another and a blood-score had to be settled. So called, honor killings have claimed the lives of countless victims across numerous cultures. What does it all accomplish, this eye-for-an-eye perspective? Is life somehow restored, wounds made whole if someone feels pain at our hands?

“Not forgiving

is like drinking rat poison

and then waiting for the rat to die.” 

(Anne Lamott, Travelling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith)

The ego is utterly convinced that exacting revenge is just, that whatever wrong we have suffered will be balanced by the wounding of the perpetrator. The reality is, as Anne Lamott notes above, quite different. The hatred to which we cling in our hearts, the cold dish of revenge that awaits our delivery, have no redemptive or renewing power. In fact, those who have enacted vengeance seldom grow as a consequence of their actions. Instead, they are left empty, hollowed by the siren-call of false justice. 

“Anger, resentment and jealousy

doesn't change the heart of others;

it only changes yours.” 

(Shannon L. Alder, 300 Questions to Ask Your Parents Before It's Too Late)

The voice within that demands revenge does not have our best interest at heart. This voice serves only the ego, and it's most base instincts at that. The whisper for vengeance can be subtle, employing a dark logic that subverts the possibility of other perspectives that might provide life-giving guidance. From this place is birthed actions that have ended relationships, destroyed lives, and filled jails.

Here's the bottom line - hurting someone else, in any way, shape, or form, will never make us better. The only power that exists to bring healing and renewal is Love, and as Paul says, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." At the end of the day Love reveals that we are not the product of what has been done to us; rather, we are the fruit of how we respond to what has been done. 

With iconic clarity the Old Testament places revenge in the realm of the Divine: "Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against anyone among your people, but love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD." (Leviticus 19.18) This command is reiterated in Deuteronomy when God affirms: "It is mine to avenge; I will repay." (Deut. 32.35). Perhaps the delicate balancing of justice's scales are beyond humanity's limited perspective to manage; perhaps in the end there is no healing to be had unless it is the healing of our own hearts through forgiveness.

I have sometimes desired a day of reckoning for the suffering of those gym class days. However, in my better moments I send Light and Love to my high school classmates and the gym teacher who tormented me. The world will not be better if they are broken; it will be better if all of us are whole. 

I leave the last word to Marcus Aurelius:

“The best revenge

is to be unlike him who performed the injury.”

(Marcus Aurelius, Meditations)

The color of revenge...

hearts consumed by pain.

In bitterness

I

cursed

and darkness

became

me

In forgivness

I

Loved

and Light

filled

me

Forgive

Pray

Laugh

To Ponder Further:

- From the Bible: "Do not say, "I will repay evil"; Wait for the LORD, and He will save you." (Proverbs 20.22)

- From Islam: "Whatever affliction may visit you is for what your own hands have earned." (Qur'an 42.30)

- African traditional: "Ashes fly back in the face of him who throws them." (Yoruba Proverb (Nigeria))

- From Buddhism: "A person who has committed one of the deadly sins will never again, until their death, lose the thought of that action; they cannot get rid of it or remove it, but it follows after them until the time of their death." (Perfection of Wisdom in Eight Thousand Lines 17.3)