"the prayer"

Pete and I visited the Cantor Arts Museum at Stanford on Sunday. We didn't get to go to church, but we did see a collection of Rodin scultpures. The only other Rodin collection I've seen is at the Legion of the Palace of Honor in San Francisco. Sunday, though, sitting under a tree on artist Bruce Beasley's bench looking out upon a dozen Rodin sculptures the word "profundity" came to mind. Why is it that his art is so moving to me? He's a GENIUS. This particular piece shown in the picture is called "The Prayer" ... it provoked an imagining of a small French woman kneeling in prayer ... that gesture that is familiar to some of us, that has kind of gone by the wayside... I experienced a little communion with her! Her kneeling, for me, acknowledges that there is great dignity in acknowledging that God is God and we are not. The fact that this kneeler is not quite upright, and seems to be in mid-kneel adds energy/movement to the work. She appears to be young, still strong, and still she is prayerful. What might she be praying for? Somehow, this structure conveys more about the life of the Spirit for me than do images of saints on holy cards. Right after I took this picture, a young family appeared with two little ones. The 4 yr old girl wanted to climb on the statue, and grandpa seized the opportunity to take a picture. Dad ended up picking the little girl up and placing her so that her head filled the void on the statue. She was all smiles and chatter in her pink and green party dress. Her little brother picked up gravel from the ground and threw it at the prayer. After the encounter with the statue was finished and the toddlers scampered off, I glimpsed the mother gently brushing the gravel off of the pedestal beneath the prayer. Reminded me of the times I have knelt in church with little boys climbing under and over, coloring in coloring books on the pew behind me. No matter what, keep on praying... (I think St. Paul said something like that... pray without ceasing?) Auguste Rodin, merci!

autumn solstice

another sept. 21st has come and gone and it's now as light as dark .. the light is diminishing. The beauty of the light diminishing is that we can rest our eyes. We can rest our eyes. And while our eyes are resting, we can look with different eyes perhaps and see more subtley. Perhaps we can see those things that lie hidden or lie in the recesses, in the shadows... I had a thought tonight at the dinner table. For some reason in the middle of the night I was caught by this image of the Aleuts scrubbing the gravestones of their deceased on the island to which they had been exiled during WWII. Members of their family had died while in exile and had been buried on a strange island and the family had returned years later to pay their respects to their dead. To do that, they had brought water and buckets of soapy water and scrub brushes and they carefully and tenderly scrubbed the headstones at the gravesites. The gesture speaks volumes about honoring the memory of our beloved dead. This struck me as very very lovely!! In our culture, the gesture i am aware of is the placing of plastic flowers at gravesites. Maybe because I value clean, I prefer the scrubbing gesture more. Anyway, i thought that maybe a way of honoring those things that have died in my life... dreams, friendships, people, false notions.. could benefit from my imagiining that gesture .. my scrubbing with water and soap and scrub brush those things that have died in my life. in the process I acknowledge that something has died and that while it was a part of my life, I honor it. This gesture, in effect, blesses that thing that has died and allows it to rest, freeing me to be alive to what is next.

back together again

I got to see Robbie and his team for the first time since mid August. It was clear that they had been working hard and that they are a real TEAM. I remember being a member of our crew team in college... becoming a team. We saw eachother at our worst and at our best. That's how I fell in love with them. There will always be a special place in my heart for Christina, Christine, Rosanne, Candy, Daria, Sarah, Terri, Bonnie, and Ellen. I've stayed in touch with two in particular and hear about three or four more of them. I'm glad Robbie is having the experience of being a part of a bigger enterprise. Go Sagehens! and Go Gaels! I'm thanking God for the parents of the Sagehens too.. for providing the boys with whom Robbie shares team.

more thoughts on aging

While previous studies inferred that elderly people’s bleak language was a natural response to painful experiences, Prof. Matsumoto’s research offers an opposing perspective. She conjectures that though humor seems out of place when talking about difficult experiences, laughing with friends helps to diffuse the pain. “With your friends, you can have fun together and talk about normal things. You laugh, and it makes you happier – you can return to a more normal feeling quickly. Not every moment has to be terrible. If you can’t laugh, you’re limiting yourself.”

hear, hear!!! I'm still looking for info on how to age with grace, wisdom and HUMOR/GOOD ATTITIDE. I cam e across this on the Stanford University website.

Indian summer

it's a warm evening and I opted not to walk because i don't like to sweat. Pete and I walked last night for an hour, briskly, and it was cool and I sweated. The crickets are in full song outside and it sounds like summer, except that at 8:30 the sun has been down for a while, so it's not summer in Northern California. It's Indian Summer. The stars were beautifully brilliant last night, and as we were walking in the dark we found ourselves alone on the trail. An owl flew low over our heads, looking for all the world like a dinosaur. BIG! We heard the bells ring at St. Mary's College a mile down the road. It was 8:00... we counted. We noted a powerful bad smell on our way up the trail and on the way back, I remembered, ah, there was a dead baby deer right on the side of the trail. I'd seen it the day before when i took Danny the Dog for a walk. My experts guess that a coyote had gotten it. In the dark we hadn't spotted it. We are part of an ecosystem alright. We came home and took showers and climbed into our comfy beds. I'm glad our species has these things. I'm also grateful for the chance to walk around the habitats of other creatures. and to see the beautiful oak trees silhouetted on the hillsides, black against the barely lit sky. Our world is beyond beautiful. Exquisite? Magical? It is good.

our lady of sorrows

I have a friend whose son has had a lifetime of heart problems. From the minute he was born, he has endured one invasive surgery after another. She, of course, has been with him every step of the way. One story she told though reveals to me the importance of celebrating Mary's role as one who has suffered. Linda had joined a women's Bible study group and had shared one session that she could identify with Mary,the mother of Jesus, at the foot of the cross. She had stood at the foot of her son's hospital bed and witnessed his pain and suffering, not knowing how much more he could take. As she spoke, she began to cry. What surprised her was that not one of the women made a gesture to comfort her. No one was able to reach out to her in words or body to connect with her. She said it was the loneliest experience. Hearing her story made me feel very badly. It made me sad for Linda, but it also made me feel sympathy for the women in the group who likely had never experienced anything like Linda has, and did not know what to do in this moment of Linda's agony. Enter, Mary. For Linda and for other women friends of mine, Mary is the one they can turn to when the sorrow is too much for others to share. Mary has been there. Linda prays the rosary. For a mother who has come close to losing her son many times, it is a life line as Mary has helped her stand at the foot of the cross. (Linda's son has just finished a masters degree in Biblical Studies in Denver and is teaching. He still spends time in the hospital, but he'll celebrate his 27th birthday in May.)

feast of the holy cross

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. John 3:16
I remember being a little girl, third grade maybe, so 7 yrs old or 8, and kneeling at a school mass probably on a Friday and looking up at the cross and crying. No one saw me or noticed me, but I remember it because it was a moment of awareness. In that moment, as I gazed upon the man on the cross, I saw love. It overwhelmed me. and it still does. Today on this feast day of the Holy Cross, I will find a crucifix and invite that love to heal me. I'll also be looking for ways that that love is spent every day all around me in the ways that people do for others.