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Love's Drum Sunday Sessions
Apr 16 - "Doing the Beautiful" - May 21 - "Beyond Words" - June 18 - "Tawakkul"
Shall we not
carry comfort in our handbags
walk in time with our breath
observe falling leaves
catch the rhythm of tides
sleep in moonlit/moonless nights
pray for dreams
Shall we not
carry on as we are able
walk this side of despair
observe our place in the Great Order
catch our breath at Beauty
sleep to renew ourselves
pray for forgiveness
Shall we not
carry the old, the young, the sick
walk in another’s path to understand him
observe rituals for the turning of the year
catch only what we need
sleep when our work is complete
pray for peace
Shall we not continue
Shall we?
Jeanne Rana
May 21 - "Beyond the Words"
A fragment form the poem ‘
What is there beyond Knowing’
by Mary Oliver
What I know
I could put into a pack
as if it were bread and cheese, and carry it
on one shoulder,
important and honorable, but so small!
While everything else continues, unexplained
and unexplainable. How wonderful it is
to follow a thought quietly
to its logical end.
I have done this a few times.
But mostly I just stand in the dark field,
in the middle of the world, breathing
in and out.
Thirst
by Mary Oliver
Another morning and I wake with thirst
for the goodness I do not have. I walk
out to the pond and all the way God has
given us such beautiful lessons. Oh Lord,
I was never a quick scholar but sulked
and hunched over my books past the
hour and the bell; grant me, in your
mercy, a little more time. Love for the
earth and love for you are having such a
long conversation in my heart. Who
knows what will finally happen or
where I will be sent, yet already I have
given a great many things away, expect-
ing to be told to pack nothing, except the
prayers which, with this thirst, I am
slowly learning
Please Call Me By My True Names
By Thich Nhat Hanh
Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow—
even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving
to be a bud on a Spring branch,
to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings,
learning to sing in my new nest,
to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower,
to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry,
to fear and to hope.
The rhythm of my heart is the birth and death
of all that is alive.
I am a mayfly metamorphosing
on the surface of the river.
And I am the bird
that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.
I am a frog swimming happily
in the clear water of a pond.
And I am the grass-snake
that silently feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones,
my legs as thin as bamboo sticks.
And I am the arms merchant,
selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl,
refugee on a small boat,
who throws herself into the ocean
after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am also the pirate,
my heart not yet capable
of seeing and loving.
I am a member of the politburo,
with plenty of power in my hands.
And I am the man who has to pay
his “debt of blood” to my people
dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.
My joy is like Spring, so warm
it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth.
My pain is like a river of tears,
so vast it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once,
so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names,
so I can wake up
and the door of my heart
could be left open,
the door of compassion.
June 18 -Tawakkul
Tawakkul
It has receptive and active dimensions:
-
faith—the reception of grace through one’s continuous remembrance of Beloved (openness to pure awareness);
-
trust—the expression of Beloved in a modality appropriate to a particular situation (creative commitment to the moment).
It differs from what is usually meant by faith and trust:
-
in its source—not based on logic, self confidence, analytical probabilities, etc. but on the inner certainty inherent in the aliveness of this moment, and this;
-
in its intention—not aimed at a preferred outcome but at the unfolding of “the most right thing” in a given situation.
It invites the development of two capacities
-
commitment—the bridge appears as we step it into existence
-
creativity—the world is Beloved’s imagination and my imagination is its co-creator.
Tawakkul is an engagement with the Mystery, an unceasing pilgrimage; never arriving because we are always there.
We look with uncertainty
Beyond the old choices for
Clear-cut answers
To softer, more permeable aliveness
Which is every moment
At the brink of death;
Something new is being born in us
If we but let it.
We stand in a new doorway,
Awaiting that which comes…
Daring to be human creatures.
Vulnerable to the beauty of existence.
Learning to love.
Anne Hillman
Drumsound rises on the air,
its throb, my heart.
A voice inside the beat says,
"I know you're tired,
but come. This is the way"
Rumi