water symphony

It's raining in Western North Carolina tonight!

This is a big deal, as we are in a drought--"extreme drought" according to the experts. All of nature is parched and thirsty, rivers are low, crops languish, and flowers droop.

It's hard to believe that patter of the rain would be such a joyous and welcome sound for me, after leaving Seattle unable to settle comfortably into its seemingly unceasing precipitation. But this morning when I woke up and saw the drizzle, my heart jumped with excitement for the good fortune. I worried that it was only a drizzle, not enough to soak the roots and seep down good and soggy, giving the plants a deep drink of nourishment.

Then tonight I heard the sound of pouring buckets, the cowbell tone of drops bouncing off the eaves, water pouring through the trees in my backyard. Glorious sound! I'm sitting on my deck, listening, letting the shower symphony wash over me, filling me back up after this long dry journey home.

Tomorrow will be green and juicy and full of gratitude.

The Power of Play

I've been half-jokingly calling this summer of transition my "Asheville summer camp". I truly think you'd have to make a sincere effort not to play in such a glorious location. From long walks along the peaceful Swananoa to dancing in drum circles in Pritchard Park, I've been surrendering to the spirit of play that seems to bubble up just from being here.

One of my favorite playgrounds is water, and Western North Carolina has a host of pristine rivers, streams and lakes--though most have been severely affected by the prolonged drought in the southeast. Nevertheless, I was delighted to find a near perfect swimming hole at Hooker Falls in the Dupont Forest. Though hardly a wilderness area, it's a gathering place for all shapes, sizes and colors of swimmers, looking for a respite from the August heat. The squeals and giggles remind me of otters chasing each other through the slippery rocks. What other choice do you have but to jump in too?

In my serious pursuit of recreation, I was also delighted to listen to Krista Tippet's interview with Stuart Brown, the Director of the National Institute for Play. Dr. Brown's years of study in medicine and psychiatry ultimately led him to become the nation's first champion of play when he started the institute at the age of 62. Hear more about the science of play and it's invaluable role in our formation as humans and the hope of the planet. http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/play/

With that kind of scientific backing, I may just play the whole rest of the summer! Y'know, for the good of the planet and all.

Can you hear that picture?

When you look at something do you hear sounds? No, not the sound made by the particular object like dog: barking. It's kind of like when some people hear certain music they see colors. This is the opposite. If so you have a rare form of synaesthesia, interesting article: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7545888.stm

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...

A corps of listeners

You've probably heard of Storycorps, if you haven't already huddled into one of their community vans to interview your great aunt or the owner of the neighborhood drug store that's been there for 57 years. It's the NPR program solely dedicated to the act of listening to the extra-ordinary stories of ordinary people.

Now they have a cd collection out so you, too, can share in the delight of listening to the folks on your street. I love this title, but couldn't get away with something so earnest on my website, so here it is:

"Listening is An Act of Love"
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=16088311

Consider giving the gift of listening this holiday season--and you don't even have to buy the box set to do it!

earfully yours,
cj

"Shhhh, quiet, please."

When I was little, I loved the library. It was a free and somewhat anonymous escape from chaos and confusion into worlds of imagination and wonder. The smell of old books was dignified and mysterious. And somehow the "shhhh" of the librarian was comforting. She guarded the silence with the fierceness of a Praetorian Guard at the gates of Rome. She knew her job was a sacred task. It took me many years to learn exactly how much so.

Today, I still love the library and frequently walk to the Decatur branch near my home. It doesn't seem as quiet these days. The librarians, no less vigilant in their friendly yet imposing watch, now have much to handle in monitoring cell phones and rebooting internet computers.

This scene is not unlike my mind most days. I frequently call on my inner librarian to quiet the rowdy revelers in my head that don't want to settle down. These self-appointed advisors arenot convinced that we'll be ok if they're off duty. But when it's quiet, the guidance I receive from connecting with self and Spirit is infinitely wiser, more adventurous, more creative, and accurate than anything I can conjure up out of my noisy brain. Probably because it bypasses the brain and comes straight from the heart--which is too polite and kind to raise its voice. So I must request, "shhhh, quiet please". I breathe in and out and listen. Sometimes I ask "what do I need to know?" Sometimes I just enjoy the quiet. The more I do it, the more I hear. And the less fearful I've become.

What's your heart whispering today?