Listening to the otter

I've been attending a great contemplative prayer group at Servanthood House in Asheville. Every Monday through Friday morning, they gather and sit in silence for half an hour and then visit on the porch of the historic home that serves as a center for prayer, healing, and fellowship. Today our convener offered a short reflection on the Mary and Martha story from the New Testament. It's always been a favorite of mine, and I suppose I needed to hear it today.

For those who aren't familiar with the story, Mary and Martha are sisters who are part of Jesus' community of supporters. They host him at their home one evening and Martha gets bent out of shape because she's slaving away in the kitchen while Mary "sat at the Lord's feet and listened to what He was saying". When Martha complains to Jesus, he responds "Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her" .

Now how's that for a countercultural approach to our human doing-ness? Jesus never was much for worshipping at the altar of our western notion of "productivity". From what I can tell, he never held a salaried job in the three years documented of his ministry. He'd go up on the mountain to hang out with God for days at a time. Yet his embodiment of Spirit and his message to humanity lives on, shaping our world 2,000 years after his physical body is gone.

I suppose the Mary story resonates since this is a summer of listening for me. Listening for guidance on the next leg of the journey, staying quiet enough to hear the still small voice that sometimes doesn't even use actual words. Today it spoke to me through a carving of an otter placed casually on the altar of the meditation room. Otters have always been a powerful totem for me, representing the sacredness of play and partnership. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kavoAsYkjq4 Like today's visit from the otter, the messages I receive often don't make sense in the left brain way that I'm used to and comfortable with. But when I'm willing, I hear and comprehend in a place beyond the thinking, doing part of me.

Now the big challenge is, will I listen...as in "follow the direction"? Will fear steer me back into strategic planning and compulsive doing to make me feel safe? Hopefully not. But if I do, then is the opportunity to return again to the listening. There is Mary sitting cross-legged at the feet of Jesus. And there is the otter, speaking its playful invitation to come out of the kitchen and do what really matters.

The sound of...silence?

I'm summering in Asheville this July and August...for those who don't know it, recently named one of the happiest places in the U.S by NPR correspondent Jerry Weiner in "Geography of Bliss" http://www.ericweinerbooks.com/content/index.asp. Well, technically he didn't say that, but give a tourism board an inch and there ya go. I say they deserve it. I've met a lot of really happy people here!

In my opinion, it's a title much deserved by this charming jewel nestled in the Appalachians. Surrounded by a moutain range more gentle than majestic, supposedly one of the oldest ranges on the planet, they say the mountains have "grandmother energy". I believe it. Even the air feels gentle, the people are friendly and the eclectic mix of indie folk music, spendy tourists, healers, academics and old southern money give it the feel of all the scraps of grandma's quilt coming together to make a treasure both beautitful and unique.

Until you start to hear the chainsaws. Ah yes, the downside of being discovered, of growth, of progress is that everyone wants a piece of it, literally. Nearby, another condo development is being constructed and the lot is being systemically cleared and prepared for new Ashevillians. That's not a bad thing. Of course we need housing and responsible planning and jobs for the hardworking folks that are building the condos and mcmansions. But it is just downright painful each morning to hear the chipring birds and cicada songs abruptly drowned out by the bulldozer yanking tree stumps their bearings and the growling of mulchers grinding them to so much rubble.

Ok, yes I'm a tree hugger. Literally. My dad has a picture of me trying to wrap my arms around a giant douglas fir in the Olympic National Park. I love being surrounded by them, hearing the breeze blow through the leaves, sitting under them in the shade. And yes, I love a good fire too and appreciate the 2x4's that hold up my roof. But I still lament that we rip them down indiscriminately, without ceremony, without acknowledgement of their place in the ecosystem, their beauty, and their invaluable carbon monoxide transforming contribution to our well-being.

The empty clearcut lot is silent as I pass it now, kind of like a cemetery but without the peace. It looks like battlefield where the bulldozer won. The Ashevillians are fighting to save a hundred year old magnolia tree that graces the town square. http://www.citizen-times.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200880807124 I hope they do it. That victory cheer would be a sound worth listening for...