RevRows!

Reveille

2012-01-24T17:22:00.000-08:00

When I arrived at Alcott Elementary School in the fall of 1967, I quickly learned about the Freeze Bell. When the bell sounded, everyone froze and out marched the boys playing drums and bugles...I am pretty sure that they played Reveille and then the National Anthem, and the flag was hoisted. Woe to any student who moved a muscle during that time.

I thought about this early this morning as NPR came on the clock radio and as my Blackberry (strategically placed across the room to require me to get out from under the warm comforter and retrieve it). I had the Blackberry play "sonar" this morning. It needed to be more lively than the zen tones I had the day before (and conveniently ignored.)

I like the idea of reveille, if not the blasting trumpets in my ears. It is a call to wake up, get up, and get going. Normally I don't need motivation to get up, but I am still rehabbing my shoulder, it is cold ,and is simply too tempting these days to dive back under the covers. In the old days of the monastery and convent, some poor soul was assigned the task of reveille...if not the familiar tune, then some kind of "get up, get up" announcement throughout the community. Get up, because the day is beginning! Wake up, always a good encouragement.

Grandpa Grossman look-alike

2012-01-17T11:00:00.000-08:00

This video about rowing tells about Lake Union and the history of rowing there and in England. A friend on Facebook posted it. The narrator reminds me so much of my Grandpa Grossman. Grandpa wore a similar cap, could always be found down at the dock, and was the person who introduced me to rowing when I was a child.

Grandpa's career was in retail and when he retired, he went to his love, which was boating. He had a boat concession down on the river just behind the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. In the summer, he would employ teenage boys to help, and the river was full of paddle boards, canoes, rowboats, kayaks and whatever other floating craft Grandpa could find. My brother and I relished the chance to visit, because of course as the grandchildren we got our pick of boats. It is a very fond memory of my childhood.

My question of my Facebook friend is: has any such tribute been made regarding women and rowing? Women started taking up oars a long time ago, but the 1976 Olympics were the first time they competed...and at 1000 meters, since 2000 meters was judged to be too taxing. The narrator even says a word about the sense of spirituality he believes rowers share., "the church of rowing" as some call it. I love this short piece and will watch it again soon.

Art is...

2012-01-16T13:17:00.000-08:00

I have talked frequently here about my love of our Nativity children and the joy I receive in talking with them about God. Yesterday for children's time, we were talking about how God calls us, and I asked them to think about any old way they had experienced this call. One of our boys said "art", and when asked to say more, said that he knew that God had something to do with art when the artist was stuck and didn't know what to do.

Who could say it better?

My favorite photographer growing up was Ansel Adams. I think partly for our shared love of Yosemite, and partly for the inspiration he gives my eye. Today I found this quotation of Adams, which is part of a letter he wrote to a friend.

He says "art is...both the taking and giving of beauty, the turning out to the light the inner folds of the awareness of the spirit."

Who could say it better?

I have known for a long time that my own creative sense, eye, work, photography, desire for color, has something to do with the holy, but I am coming closer to being able to put easy words to this part of myself. For me, the words have to come easily, or they are coming too soon. As life is a journey, so is understanding. These two encounters this weekend help me. Thank you!

Limantour beach at sunset

Blue Velvet Bay

2012-01-13T00:28:00.000-08:00

Sunsets are my contemplation these days. I veered to the pullout tonight just after I had crossed the Golden Gate Bridge because the water beyond the Gate looked like blue velvet. When you have run your hand over it...nappy and smooth and ruffled in random patterns all at the same time. And beyond that was the subtle sun setting across the entire horizon. I wanted to simply stand and stare. When I am presented with such beauty, all I can do is look for as long as I possibly can. In the case of tonight, trying not to crash the car at the same time.

I liked the people who were hiking up the trail from the beach. I liked them in the picture. I watched them watching the sunset and it took me a while to feel comfortable taking their picture. How were they appreciating the beauty in front of them? What were they saying to each other? These are the questions this picture asks me to imagine. We exchanged hellos as they walked past me, and we went on our ways in the light of the evening.

The Early Days and the Next Days

2012-01-09T19:09:00.000-08:00

I have been thinking a lot about my brother Peter lately, and giving thanks that he and his family, Linda, Barry and William, are in my life. We are coming up to the anniversaries of our parents' deaths, and I think I am appreciating family more and more, since I am aware that I know several people "our age" (yes, both in our fifties) who have recently died. So I set out to look for a photo that we would both like and remember, and I came across this one from our schooldays in Hong Kong. I am the one in the attractive white glasses, and Peter has his book bag over his shoulder.

He was in Kindergarten, I was in the second grade. We attended Royden House School, which also served as the headquarters for an ambulance service (see example in the background.) Our playground was a parking lot, our classmates were from many different countries,the class room was English Public School Strict, and it was a formative time for both of us. The year was 1965. We lived in Hong Kong for only two years, but it changed me profoundly.

I find it comforting and hopeful to believe that somehow, someway, all of those people who have gone before us are still in our lives in some energetic, holy way. How we will see them, know them,connect with them when we ourselves die is not for us to know now. But as I think about our parents, give thanks for Peter and all my living family, I can't help but hope that when my time comes, I will view death as a door to another great adventure, in another form, in another kind of time. For now, I give thanks for Peter, my little brother. I love that...he will always be my little brother!

a Miller Creek baptism?

2012-01-08T18:39:00.000-08:00

I have always loved water. I was the kid at the beach who would turn blue before getting out. I love hearing it, being in it, on it, photographing it. A deep,hot, bath has always been my consolation.

Today was the feast day of the Baptism of Jesus. We did not have a baptism, but it renewed my dream of some day baptizing in the creek on our church property. Miller Creek. Its source is out in the Lucas Valley, and it runs out to the San Francisco Bay, right past our church. We hike down to it in three minutes. The Native people used it as a prime source of water. It is living water, that was, for a time, damaged by those of us who came later. But these days, efforts are being made to help it recover, and the efforts are paying off.

I can see it now. Our elders would gather across the creek, where, conveniently, a playground has been built and people might sit or stand. Those able would hike down and then back up. We would need warm clothes for after, because it would be COLD, but these are all details. The hike back up would warm people right up.

Can you imagine baptizing, being baptized, in living water? My dream!

Miller Creek in February

happy Epiphany!

2012-01-06T14:24:00.000-08:00

this is one of my favorite words, and I use it in religious and secular conversations alike. It reminds me our California slogan-Eureka!-I have found it! So having an epiphany, for me, is something that comes unbidden, with great surprise and insight. No possible conjuring on my part can bring "it" about. And when "it" does come, it comes sparkling, with immense energy.

Here is my picture for Epiphany...I made it using the Uzu app on my IPad. I can't possibly explain how this app works, but it essentially gives unlimited possibilities for color, lines, movement...and all with the built-in camera to back it all up. I made this while I was laid up in the recliner with my shoulder surgery.

sunset from the hilltop...amazing!

2012-01-05T15:43:00.000-08:00

I love sunsets and will stop my car almost anywhere to watch one. Last night, as I could see the sky starting to glow, I stood on our church hill and watched the sky turn from pastel to fire in the course of about fifteen minutes. Because we have an unobstructed almost 180 degree view towards the west, it is like standing on the edge of the world. I am also attracted to bright color, so the intensity that came over us almost took my breath away.

It's good for me, when I get grumpy about being inside all day, having to do all the work that somehow has got to get done, to remember these snippets of God's creation that enter my life unbidden and unwarned and give me such a boost spiritually. I share them here in the hope that they will give someone else a boost too. The skies in Northern California have been lighting up morning and night these last days, and I give great thanks to live here and to have recaptured my "photographer's third eye" which I had put away for so many years.

Leaf and ice

2012-01-04T09:44:00.000-08:00

This morning I have returned to my customary routine, which is wake up early, boathouse, coffee with rowers, work. This is a routine I have followed for years now, and it gives me time to pray, to rise in the sunrise, to enjoy the companionship of my friends, and to get ready for the work day. I've missed my routine, which was upset in August when I injured my shoulder. It is perfect for me to get back to it as a new year has begun.

In New York last week, I ventured out early every morning with my camera. I loved this ice formation, which to me captures that fleeting moment when things like leaves, like us, get stuck in one position, until the sunlight falls and begins to melt that which is binding us, holding us, causing us to freeze in one position. As I took this picture, the light was already starting to hit the ice, but everything was very still, still.

There's nothing wrong with being frozen for a time, but the sunlight always comes and loosens things up, and that is when the flow begins again. Are you in frozen mode or in flow mode at the moment? Something to ponder today.

Inclusive language and why it matters

2012-01-03T17:44:00.000-08:00

I spent last week with some very interesting people. One of the things we talked about was inclusive language, especially as it is used, or not used, in the church. My own understanding of inclusive language means that we attempt to use neutral language which the object or thing we are describing does not have a gender. For example, to refer to "people" when we are speaking about women and men, boys and girls is inclusive: to refer to the same group as "men" is not inclusive.

Another way to say this is that we try not to assign gender-identified language when gender-identified language is not helpful. So, for example, in my own prayer life, I never refer to God as "he", since God to me is genderless and indeed not in the form of a person. At the same time, when I lead worship, I try to follow our prayer book, which uses 'he' quite freely to describe the Holy. This is difficult for me, and I sometimes cannot bring myself to comply! It causes me an internal division, and these I mostly try to avoid.

Believe it or not, I used to be a person who gave the "who cares" response to such a question. Slowly, in prayer and in conversation, it began to dawn on me that the wideness of God, the breadth of understanding God, was necessarily self-limiting if I could not speak about the Holy as She or as it or as something not describable. Language is very powerful, and as this seeped in, I began to feel uncomfortable with all of the "he he he"s. I love the "hes" in my life, but there's more to God than He! I've become quite adept at "inclusivizing" prayers and readings on the fly, and have learned from both men and women about how to do this adeptly.

How does language - both what you hear and read, and what you use - affect the way you understand God?

flowing leaf in icy stream

2012-01-02T10:29:00.000-08:00

I have always loved photographing details in nature, and I especially like watching water. I have used polarizing filters occasionally, allowing a look down beyond the reflections into the darkness, but the reflections of the light on water are actually part of what attracts me to this part of creation. On an existential level, the play of reflection and depth reminds me about the part of myself which both glistens and hides the inner deeper parts.

I found this image last week, while on retreat at Holy Cross monastery. I spent quite a lot of time with a small stream that was flowing down the hill into the river. While this image shows the golden leaf standing still in a moment of time, it might just have easily been flowing past, down, with the stream. A glimpse of it was all I wanted.

A New Year to celebrate

2012-01-01T18:10:00.000-08:00

I spent the week between Christmas and New Year with three incredible women, at an incredible monastery, with incredible men, all at an incredible time in the life of the church and the world. Did I mention incredible? ;)

We had time to retreat, to pray together and alone, to ponder,to share Eucharist together. I found it to be a beautiful segue both for my soul and for my friendships. Every morning, I snuck out of our house and down to the banks of the mighty Hudson River. Accustomed as I am to waking in the sunrise, I was able to spend time in what I consider the most fruitful time of the day - the early morning - engaging in my love of photography. As I often do, I spent hours looking at the same subject, in this case, the shale beach, trying to capture just the right mood and tone.

I spent a lot of time with this particular stone, since it was calling out to me as a stepping stone. The river was not glassy smooth that day, as I had fantasized, but I like this picture in any case. My yearning about the photograph is to step way out onto that rock,a firm platform surrounded by the blue mystery...and then I feel pulled to step out onto the water, almost as if it were possible to walk into the watery horizon. Somehow, the ripples help me imagine that as a possibility.

I have just returned from our first labyrinth walk at Nativity, and feel nourished by the spirits and prayers of the women who came to walk, talk and have tea together. a wonderful way to begin a New Year!

A new blogging day for me

2011-12-31T09:48:00.000-08:00

Back in the dark ages (well, the early 2000s), my colleague and friend Michael Barlowe told me about a new, free, internet presence called Blogger. In those times, you had to be able to wade through html programming a bit, had to spend amazing time setting a blog up, and most of all, really WANT to be a blogger. I decided that it was a quick and easy (!) way to produce a parish website. And so I did...as an interim measure!

I also decided to start a personal blog. I have loved doing the website and the blog, here and there, for these last years.

As with many things in the church, interim turned out to be about ten years. Today, we have a highly tech-savvy congregation, people who want to be involved in our social media outreach, and more than anything, parishioners who are willing to put in the time to make us evermore available on the web.

I have decided that one blog is really all I can handle. And its audience is whoever will read it...parishioners, friends, teammates, people in the blogosphere. I have been having interesting conversations about internet presence with colleagues lately, and it strikes me that at this point in my life, it really is too much trouble to try and segregate who reads what. I use writing to work things out, to ponder, to consider, and if that is helpful to others, I am grateful and thankful. I know it is helpful to me.

So the Nativity website and my RevRows blog hereby morph into one blog, which I will still call RevRows. Our parish member and communications guru Trish urges me to write reflections instead of worrying about keeping the website content current. And so I will. And I will unabashedly write about all I learn from rowing and my team, which is significant and essential to my life as a priest.

I view the internet and social media as an opportunity to be in relationship with all sorts of people in our own time, in a way that people are reached most frequently these days. On Sunday, I will tell our children about the time before computers, as a matter of understanding what faith and belief mean. Pray for me! ;)

The birds have a lesson for us, and then some.

2011-11-26T17:14:00.001-08:00

Today a friend and I made a pilgrimage out to Limantour. It was a great day to walk the beach, talk, get out in Mother Nature in between Thanksgiving and Advent. There were so many birds there, mostly all standing on one leg. We noticed that they also hopped along on one leg, although they could also run on both legs. As soon as we made our "quiet" approach, wings were flapping and the whole group had processed down the beach to the next resting spot, until we came along again and forced them to move.

It was also a great day to simply stand and watch these various winged creatures take protection in one another. The ones at the tail end of the flock would be the first to move as we moved, and when more than one or two moved, that was a sign to go. And go they did. How secure they all must feel, knowing that without fail, their fellows will warn them when to get up and go. Although we might think immediately "herd mentality", it also made me think about the times I have left someone high and dry, about the times I have turned around and seen no one with me. It's an uncomfortable feeling when it happens. And so is the comforting flapping of all the wings when it is time to go.

Light Chasing

2011-11-22T10:10:00.001-08:00

For a long time I did not have a name for what I have done for many years, but now I have a name...I am a light chaser. I keep a small camera in my car at all times, and when I see a sky, like I did the other night, I either pull over and grab the camera, or race (ever so sedately of course) to a good place to see the light through the lense.

Light chaser, I kind of like it!

This image appeared the other day as I drove home from the market...the light and shadows were hitting the trees near my house in a wonderful way, so I went into the street and just snapped away. I like the way the shadows and light make the picture look like a moving circle.

Quails and acorns

2011-11-07T20:54:00.000-08:00

I am slowly emerging from the little house, healing from my shoulder surgery, and finding my life again. It has been a joy over the past weeks to come into tune with the fall season...the acorns have fallen off the trees, rolled down the roof, quietly fallen onto the oak leaf blanket on the ground. Now, the quail are running around looking for food. I love the quail because my grandmother loved them. They scurry here and there, in their groups, with their distnctive peeping sound. This one came walking towards me, so noble and funny at the same time. Love him!

Wistful

2011-10-16T19:02:00.001-07:00

Last year at this time, I was packing for the Head of the Charles. This year I am not going, and will miss the fall colors, crisp air, cameraderie, and great racing that that regatta never fails to provide.

Last year my boat (we are the black and red) had what has become known as "the epic crash" with two other boats under Weeks Bridge. It cost us the race and a chance to go this year. See picture below. Angles like this are to be avoided!

Clarity needed...I have already heard the sermons!

2011-10-13T15:18:00.001-07:00

2011-10-02T20:48:00.000-07:00

It has been a strange few weeks.... I came back from Nationals in Oklahoma to find that I had torn my rotator cuff...so no driving and no holding a camera for quite some time. However, there are some fun apps on the ipad, and here is my first offering, ipad photo and all!

and

2011-08-21T19:28:00.001-07:00

while we watched from our downtown Oklahoma hotel, many amazing sunrises and sunsets and thunder and lightning lit up the skies for us. I liked this one especially; Bricktown and the downtown baseball stadium. Thank you, Oklahoma!

OOOOklahoma

2011-08-21T19:26:00.000-07:00

My rowing teammates and I spent a wonderful weekend in Oklahoma City recently competing in the Masters Nationals Championships. When we weren't rowing or running for cover from the several electrical storms, we were running around seeing important things in the City. We went to the National Cowboy and Western Hall of Fame, unfortunately named, since a large part of their collection focuses on Native American art and history.

I spent a lot of time photographing a series of bronze scuptures of Native leaders. This picture of a man's fist was the best one I took. And when I got home, it reminded me of a snippet from Catherine of Siena's Dialogue, in which Catherine and God are having a conversation about justice and mercy. The narration says:

"so in obedience to the most high Father, she raised her eyes, and she saw within his closed fist the entire world. And God said "my daughter, see now and know that no one can be taken away from me. Everyone is here as I said, either in justice or in mercy. They are mine; I created them,and I love them ineffably." (Dialogue 18)

So I've been pondering the closed fist. Before taking this photograph, my internal words for a closed fist would have been: hard, ready to fight, closed. But Catherine's image gives me words like closeness, safety, courage, groundedness. I love these knuckles which left me feeling safe and secure, kind of like what God said.

creative energy and rest

2011-07-15T09:57:00.000-07:00

I am just about half way through my wonderful sabbatical and have finished another paper and water color which I am thinking of as Paper Cosmos. I found myself being called into the art rather suddenly and so I cleared space in my very open calendar for time to spend on it. Interesting realization that the urge to create comes out of a place of deep rest and spaciousness. As I write these words they seem so very obvious, however, my natural inclination is to sometime conflate busyness and productivity with creativity. This moment in time helps me separate these things.

I'm off to retreat this weekend, camera in hand, incredible labyrinth in mind at Mercy Center in Burlingame. More spacious time. Yay!

Pride

2011-06-22T11:11:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about my friend Ryan lately. We were best friends in college and moved to the Bay Area in 1980. We spent a lot of time at Neon Chicken and Double Rainbow in the Castro, and went to our first Pride Parade together that summer with a group of college friends. Ryan died way too early at the age of 39, and I still miss him, and especially reminded of him when I am in and around the city during Pride. This artwork is for you, Ryan Nakagawa.

Why do we forget our joy?

2011-06-15T11:28:00.000-07:00

I'm still pondering this my third week into my sabbatical. One of my joys is color. When was nine or ten, I discovered that with graph paper and pens I could create wonderful colorful designs without the need to draw very well (I never graduated beyond stick figures.) I remember my grandfather saying "I could sell this!"which made me laugh. I just loved making page after page. As I move into my time of Sabbath, I feel myself drawn to creating in paper and watercolor that which I see out and about. So here is the newest "thing" for my re-decorating home office, my paper sunset. Joy!

Joy, joy, joy

2011-06-12T18:12:00.000-07:00

I have been doing some re-decorating at home, especially in my office which is library/computer room/creative space/closet all in one. When I moved here, I painted the walls of this room orange, because I wanted it to be energetic and vibrant. Next time I will be braver and pick a deeper tone. In any case, as part of my "come down" initial sabbatical time, I've gone back to a favorite media - chromarama paper. I learned of this paper in college when I took a theory of color class, and we did our assignments using it. I decided that this paper and watercolor might work well together, so I've finished one new piece for the wall and am working on the second.

On this day of Pentecost, I came home rejoicing with the joy that is in me and decided I could photograph the first piece which reminds me of this joy. May it bring you joy as well.

there aren't too many things better than rowing...

2011-06-04T14:57:00.000-07:00

...but a good retreat is one of them. I am finishing the first week of my sabbatical with a somewhat silent retreat at a local retreat center called Santa Sabina. I say somewhat because it is turning out to be more quiet than I had expected and originally wanted. It is also exactly what I needed.

One of the little jewels of this place is called the Hermitage - a straw bale house set just a stone's throw away from the main buildings, but with the feel of being a thousand miles away. I went there this morning to pray and to write in the natural light streaming in the windows. I looked up and saw a doe watching me through this very window. I made a slight move to reach for my camera and she moved too, as if to say "no, not that." So we simply met each others' eyes. Eventually she ambled away and I listened to her footsteps circumambulate my little dwelling. I give thanks for the meeting.

What might we learn if we practice simple waiting, looking out the window?

knowing what I don't know

2011-05-30T09:38:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to the prospect of three months of sabbatical. Not surprisingly, I jumped up and thought "what to do first?" I know it will take a week or ten days to let my monkey mind calm down. I spotted my camera on my kitchen table. Thanks to the one and only photography course I ever took - as an undergraduate - I know that I do not yet know enough about my digital camera to have complete control over the images I find. So my first project? Begin some study about the camera.

I know what I don't know (or at least some of what I don't know) because in my one and only class, we were not allowed to use our fancy (then film, 35 mm) cameras for about two months into the semester. First, we had to prove, both in writing and in oral presentation, that we knew every inch, button, setting and trick of our fancy camera. Then, we put them away and made pinhole cameras from oatmeal boxes, including our own film. We shot with these for several weeks. We then graduated to plastic "Diana"cameras and used those for several weeks, all the time learning how to develop our film and mix chemicals for the dark room. By the time we were done with all of this, we really did understand photography, and I am so very grateful for that knowledge.

So I need to study my Nikon camera the same way. I've already spent an hour and am stuck on some strange button. And, I've already learned some very important things that have been frustrating me for three years. So on goes my study. I have promised myself that I will not even dream of looking at a new camera until I can use the one I have to its fullest capacity and my fullest capacity. I'm looking forward to time this summer to practice!

Morning Colors

2011-05-09T19:36:00.000-07:00

As I prepare for a different rhythm this summer, I am so aware of how much the early morning is my most generative, quiet and lively time. Quiet and lively may seen in tension, but the morning has always been the time when I am most aware of my life and of the life I am in. Rowing is the perfect sport for a morning person, and although I am currently rehabbing from a neck injury, I still try and make it down to the boathouse to do some kind of exercise every day and, most importantly, see my community.

This morning I grabbed my camera and went walking along the shoreline. This picture is absolutely unremarkable in every possible way except for the colors and the way the flower looked as it it had been folded haphazardly. The deep, rich colors of sunrise call me day after day, and I loved the pink and green and California golden poppy gold. So I share a morning color today, thankful for the eyes to see.

Easter Monday at Limantour

2011-04-25T19:05:00.000-07:00

After an incredible Holy Week and Easter, I took Monday as a recuperation day and had a wonderful walk on Limantour beach in Point Reyes. I love that these pictures were taken within moments of each other, the dark one looking south, and the clearer one looking north. The wind whistled while a lone family flew a kite and a small handful of us walked the beach. What a treasure we have in our coast line!

kinda sorta a sabbath day

2011-04-15T16:48:00.000-07:00

For many of us, Lent and Holy Week are our most passionate and our most busy and our most draining seasons. Today is the countdown day, and I happily spent Friday, which is usually my day off, doing church things interspersed with regular Friday things like laundry and errands and coffee with friends. We have been ramping up all week and will continue all the way through Easter morning. Here we go! An extrovert's dream.

I am very drawn to the Virgin of Guadaloupe, so I sifted back through a few years of pictures and found these from the Mount Calvary chapel. Generally, my photographic work most ends up being only very slightly edited, since I find much more joy behind the camera out in nature, rather than in front of the computer. However, these images wanted to be together, and so in a simple way, I have tried to listen to what they wanted. I've decided I could fiddle forever to create perfection, or take the other road of practice, which for me is infinitely healthier than overworking the illusion of perfection. So here we are, on the Friday before Palm Sunday, with a prayer to the Virgin. Pray for us.

Prayer for a Tree

2011-03-20T20:40:00.000-07:00

In the storms this weekend the incredible heritage oak tree behind my house fell down. I heard a sharp crack on Friday night and assumed it was a clap of thunder. When I woke in the morning and began my ritual puttering, I glanced out the window and thought "something is not right!" The tree (really two trees grown together, several hundred years old according to the arborist) had half-fallen over. Actually, the roots simply came up out of the soil; the tree was too heavy.) Suddenly the neighborhood was abuzz and we decided that I and several others needed to get out of our houses until the tree people had come. They came, with yellow tape and chain saws,and secured the area, and told us that the second tree would most likely fall. It did, last night. Another large crack.

I am sad; I loved the tree, the children who played under it, the birds who lived in it, the shady backyard it provided. I am thankful no one was hurt; a man was killed today in another part of the Bay Area by a similar incident. I marvel at Mother Earth, who nurtured this tree despite the too-close-encroachment of houses. I have a wonderful prayer card from the Onondaga Nation, which says, among other things:

TO THE EARTH

mother of all

greetings and thanks

THE TREES

for shelter and shade

fruit and beauty

greetings and thanks

Thank you, Tree!

spring in Northern California

2011-03-04T11:56:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I had the privilege of presiding at the Eucharist for Seniors Retreat of Grace Cathedral. As I drove on Westside Road to the Bishop's Ranch, I was swept away with the rows of pink cherry blossom trees, the yellow mustard, the emerald green on the grass under the grape vines. I wanted to stop and stop again, but I needed to be at the altar with the people, sharing holy food, and so I tried to simply remember the colors. And today, they are still with me.

I did manage a few pictures, this one being my favorite. I am normally drawn to bold, intense color, but yesterday the more subtle ones were calling to me. How fortunate I am to live here!

the creek in spring

2011-02-21T15:58:00.000-08:00

Today I took a short hike down to the creek to see how things are growing in this funny spring. Lots of water in the creek, the buckeyes are beginning to bud, and I can't wait to plan What the Creek Can Teach Us this year. As I hiked back up, I thought about how I like the transitional seasons of spring and fall the best. Love the buds and falling leaves!

an unexpected gift

2011-01-31T09:28:00.000-08:00

Last night as the sun was setting I drove south to a birthday party for a friend. As I got on the freeway, I could see a specatular sunset, and by the time I was up to speed, I was looking for my camera and deciding where to get off the road and get a good view of the panorama that was developing in front of me. I pulled over at St. Vincent's field and drove furiously to the end of the road....and there was another woman, out of her car, beholding the amazing sunset. So we greeted each other and spent about ten minutes in silence doing our craft of photography. At one point my new friend said "I'm so glad someone else is here to see it" and I agreed. Our brief companionship made the craft even more enjoyable than it would have been for either of us alone.

I couldn't decide which image I liked more. I'm also noticing that I have been drawn recently to large landscapes, unlike my normal proclivity to being drawn into the details. So, thankgiving for an amazing sunset over the cow fields in San Rafael!

2011-01-22T18:49:00.000-08:00

I love the photography of Diane Walker and credit her with helping me find words for the "nature" of my nature photography. Her article about the brain of the contemplative photographer is a jewel and a must-read for all who feel attracted to this kind of work.

As I read her blog, I thought of the picture below, which I took a few weeks back when a friend and I trekked out to Drakes Beach in West Marin. I've always been attracted to the luminescence of water and the sheen on the bubbles. Interestingly, as I was finding this image, I did not notice the Little Stacey which appears in each of the tiny bubbles. I only noticed these as I gazed at the photograph in my computer.

Diane makes the point that the image really has to come first, and then the contemplation, and I completely agree with this. I remarked in my comment on her blog that I love recalling the subjects that have drawn me into contemplation. The gold rock at Fallen Leaf Lake last summer, the agaves at my beloved Mount Calvary, and so many others.

Thank you, Diane!

Moon sets over the condos

2011-01-20T16:15:00.000-08:00

This morning the full moon cast an incredible light on the early morning water...behind us the moon, to the east the sunrise, it was a glorious morning to be out in the sunrise of God's creation. That I was in the fast boat was not too bad either. The women I row with are so competitive that we even notice who "wins" the warm-up...no slacking off, ever! We had a good practice and headed in under the moon beam, which by 7 was beginning to get low in the western sky.

After we had put our boats away, we all headed, as we normally do, to take over Peet's coffee at the Bon Air Shopping Center. As I drove up over the small hill, I saw this moon setting...slammed on my brakes and jumped out to try and take a beautiful photograph. This isn't exactly how I had imagined it, I am still getting used to my "car camera" and could not figure out how to make some minor adjustments, but there it is, moon sets over the Greenbrae condos...it was a sight to behold. I give thanks today for my rowing community and for the gift of being outside every morning in creation.

over the Bridge and through the fog

2011-01-14T20:05:00.000-08:00

Today I spent a pleasant afternoon with a friend at the second part of the Musee D'Orsay impressionist exhibit at the De Young Museum. As I drove home, I noticed that the fog had begun to pour through the Golden Gate; by the time I was on the Big Red Bridge, I was fumbling for my camera and hoping for a good shot from the vista point.

For years I have crossed this bridge and imagined what a tourist must see....the magic of a fog machine pumping amazing white fluffy stuff into that narrow bay opening. Today, as I stopped and turned back to the City, I saw the pouring of the cool offshore ocean fog into our compact, well-defined San Francisco Bay. I stood and watched as the sun set over the Friday commute home, and gave thanks for calling such a place of natural beauty "home".

the Gate of the Year

2011-01-02T20:09:00.000-08:00

On New Year's Day I woke up to an email from someone I don't know, quoting part of a poem I don't know. But I like the verse, and so looked it up and found that it is part of a little-known poem, quoted by King George VI in his Christmas message of 1939.

...I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year,
"Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown."
And he replied, "Go out into the darkness, and put your hand into the hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light, and safer than a known way."

As much as I intended to make the first day of the year one of introspection and visioning for the coming year, I also could not help but acknowledge that we head, as always, full speed in to the darkness, where God alone is a known companion. So I took this verse as a gift on the first day of Twenty Eleven, and offer the picture below. It is of a fence that I found last week at Point Reyes. There were several walk-around gates in the crooked fence. I loved the lines of it, both outlining the seafarer's cemetery it encloses, and pointing to the landscape beyond, the unknown. At the Gate of the Year!

careening up the coast

2010-12-06T15:11:00.000-08:00

Last week I visited my beloved Mt. Calvary community of monks, who now live at St. Mary's Convent in Santa Barbara. The devastating fire that destroyed the brothers' home and the spiritual home of many of us happened two years ago. This was the first time I had been back to visit. It was joyful and poignant and refreshing. Mostly it was wonderful to catch up with the brothers, pray the Divine Office with them, celebrate the Eucharist, eat at the long table, and talk about "now".

The retreat for me always includes the drive down 101...the sights and smells of the Salinas Valley; garlic and artichokes, turned-over dirt, workers bent over in the fields, trucks loaded with produce. I love that valley that John Steinbeck brought to the world.

On my way back, I stopped at the Steinbeck Museum in Salinas and then drove like mad to make it by sunset to pebble beach...not "the" Capital P Pebble, but the rocky cove just north of Bean Hollow beach, in between Santa Cruz and Half Moon Bay, where beautiful pebbles take the place of sand and where the light is always magical. I pulled into the parking lot at the perfect time, and despite some creepy guys who arrived in a van, I spent about half an hour with my camera and the ever-changing sea and sky. I was thankful for the quiet time and for the light that stayed before me, then went down over the horizon.

Autumn sunset at Nativity

2010-11-25T08:10:00.001-08:00

Get me to the church on time!

2010-11-21T17:35:00.000-08:00

This morning I set off for church a bit early, and it was a good thing, because as I approached Nativity, just near St. Viincent's School, I suddenly saw sunrise light that I simply had to pull over and try and capture. As I write I realize that I don't really like this word capture, but that is what I try to do with my camera...cause it to capture that which has caught my eye. I have recently taken to keeping a camera in my car so that when I need to exercise my photographic eye, I have the tools to do it.It is interesting to me that in all the years I spent little time with cameras, I still had my eye, and tried to exercise it as I could, imagining what kind of photograph I would come home with, if I only had a camera.

This was one of those humbling mornings when I had the desire, but not the skill, to accomplish that which I wanted. I saw the photograph I wanted but could not get my camera to sing - do what I wanted - obey. And so I ended up snapping off a bunch of shots that I knew I would not like. Then I turned, and saw what you see below...incredible play of light on the hills just north of the church. This picture is also not exactly what I wanted, but at least it gives a little taste of what made my heart sing early this morning.

This desire to hold, catch, capture makes for an interesting reflection on prayer. I do understand my photography as prayer, always have, although I am just now putting words to that understanding. and my very best photographs are ones of subjects that I have looked at and seen and photographed over and over and over again. My inability today to have my camera singing reminds me of the many times of centering prayer I have spent squirming, distracted, occupied...at the same time desiring an open and quiet heart and not being able to let go to that place of deep prayer.

2010-11-15T07:54:00.000-08:00

rowing towards sunrise
magenta, citron, azure
revives the spirit

something about practicing

2010-11-08T15:38:00.000-08:00

We have a fantastic Finish ensemble called Soinninkajo which is giving a benefit concert at Nativity this week for the local Waldorf School. The singers have flown in from Helsinki over the last couple of days. They have spent the better part of today rehearsing. It has been a treat for me, and interesting to hear the traditional music of Finland, a country I visited once, but know little about.The music is both bright and dark, sonorous, rich, and a bit sad, as well as simply clear. These are very, very good musicians.

One of the singers told me that the flight to New York was nine hours, then, five hours out to San Francisco. Which means that as I write this, around 3 pm in California, these singers are well into their next day sleep-body-time wise. They are tired, but singing. For hours, they have been singing.

As I have listened to them rehearse today, it strikes me that this practice, which is their passion, is what brought them here, what keeps them awake after very little sleep, and what they want to be doing even now that they surely must be dizzy with fatigue. It is just like getting up for morning prayer after a sleepless night, just like showing up at the racecourse to row after a red-eye across the country, just like coming to church when you really would rather sleep in. There is a quality of the practice, despite everything, that adds to the passion of that which we are seeking. For the singers, the perfect a capella performance, for the rowers, swing and the perfect stroke, for the prayers, an encounter with the living God.

The practice is not always easy, and our encounter in it is not always what we are seeking. But the practice itself opens us to the possibility o f the encounter. Dare we say the probability of the encounter?

Sunset, sunrise

2010-11-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

I have recently purchased a small pocket camera so that I can have a camera wherever I go. The photographer's eye is, like so many things, something that gets a bit stiff and rusty if not used on a regular basis, and more and more I want to be able to act upon the image that presents itself and try, at least try, to capture it. These two images were taken in the past twenty four hours: the sunset as I was racing to get to dinner with a friend. I took the Presidio cutoff after crossing the Golden Gate bridge, and then looked desperately for a place to grab a shot of the sun setting over the Pacific. It took my breath away.

Then this morning, a teammate and I decided to take our cameras and meet the sunrise, which we usually do from a boat. We were hoping that one of the many boats from our boathouse would come into our view, but alas, we simply had to settle for a sunrise.

I am so very grateful to be alive in these changing moments, from light to night, and back again. When life gets hard, which it seems to be for many of us at the moment, these small glimpses of transcendence are all the gift I need to carry on. Thank you, Holy One of Blessing.

Lessons Learned at the Head of the Charles

2010-10-28T15:54:00.000-07:00

We loved the rowing that we did (not so much the stopping and backing to get back on course) and all agree that we did our best. In the end, that's what counts.

More than that, though, I think the whole incident brought several things home to me in a new way:

1) Time lost is time lost. Even though the boat who crashed into us was penalized, we could not make up that lost time as we fought to get free from them. There is something quite profound in that realization that time is precious and cannot be regained. We can only start again and hope for a new beginning. This sounds more than vaguely spiritual me, along the lines of the monastics who say "we fall down and get up and start again, over and over." Kind of like the adage in centering prayer, that every straying away invites us to re-center again. We are offered infinite opportunities for a new beginning.

2) The corollary to (1) is that once we realize that time has been lost, we do indeed attempt to make up for lost time. The strokes after our crash were among the best strokes we have ever had in that boat. We were focused, calm and extremely determined. This is also a good thing, since we make the most of our most precious gift of time.

3) Calm and poise wins over frantic fighting every time. As our oars clashed the first time and as we became entangled, the rowers in the other boat were screaming and thrashing about; I really thought that I might be thrown out of our boat by another's oar. We were very quiet. Our coxswain quietly but persistently instructed the other coxswain how to proceed, which, naturally, was met with deaf ears. However, it felt as if our rowers were prepared to take advantage of the first opening to get out of the situation and proceed. We finally got underway again and came together in a way that made us all proud of one another.

So, in the end, it was a great race. And as we reminded one another, if you can't have a gold, you might as well have a great story! This picture I took from outside our hotel, during a calmer moment of the weekend. I like to think that it depicts how we conducted ourselves...with grace and beauty. Go 60s!

Old Ladies and Young Ladies racing

2010-10-10T17:07:00.000-07:00

Today my boat raced at the Head of the Port of Sacramento. This is the lineup that we will race at the Head of the Charles in a couple of weeks. We had a great race, came in fourth, and most importantly, feel our momentum as a crew peaking just in the for the big race in Boston. We have things to work on, for sure, but it is getting better and better.

As we were sitting ready to start, a women's lightweight eight rushed up, late to the line. At first the official told them "that was your race that just left", but then, after a bit of conversation, we heard him shout "ok, you can race after those Old Ladies" (pointing to us.) A cry went up from about six eights, as about fifty women older than the college students called him out for his less than gracious language. The poor man dug himself deeper and deeper into a hole by then proceeding to similarly insult the young women. We went off the line laughing inside. And we told the story several times during the day to whoever would listen.

I have loved for twenty years, and love even more today, the generosity of spirit that exists on my team and in the sport of rowing in general. It is a close-knit community. Rowers like rowers, no matter the age or stage. There is a bond which transcend all of our differences and unites us in some kind of seeking spirit. The seeking after the perfect stroke and the perfect race and the perfect unity is what keeps us coming back for more.

And it is true, when we were in college, we thought of the average-age-60-year-olds as Old Ladies. We average-age-60-year-olds look at the new high school freshmen around our boathouse and marvel at how young they are. And there we are, all out in the amazing October day today, pursuing our passion. Perfect!

Supplicants at Six a.m.

2010-10-07T15:51:00.000-07:00

It was pitch black this morning by the time my crew carried our boat down to the dock, put it in the water, and shoved away, ready to begin our practice. The tiny incremental time changes that come with the approaching fall sneak up on us just like the aging of a parent.

As I bent down on our coxswain's command to adjust my footstretchers (the shoes that attach to the boat and allow the rower to become part of a living lever), I watched with awe as my teammates did the same. Like supplicants bowing before their God, the rowers, one behind the other, reached down in the darkness, backs bent over, heads down, oar handles cradled in midsections, and quietly adjusted their equipment to make for the best possible outcome.

It strikes me that this pose, this act of bending down, which I can only interpret as a prayerful one, is an act of preparation which is possibly as important as the act (of praying? of rowing?) itself. This act of bending, which I saw this morning for the first time as a bow, is an extremely powerful one. The bow is an act of humility, one which states somatically that one is part of a larger whole, not alone, not an independent agent, but part of something larger and greater. Eight rowers bending down acknowledge that only together will they drive the boat forward well. This mindful preparation, done privately in public, done quietly and carefully, makes possible a fruitful outcome.

I give thanks today for the dark, for the rowers, for the privelege of this community which, like the church and worshipping communities everywhere, gather day after day for their practice.

I have rowed past San Quentin's Death Row for Twenty Years...

2010-09-27T14:29:00.000-07:00

...and I try every day to remember to pray for the victims of the Death Row inmates, for the prisoners, for the families of all involved, and for an abolition to the death penalty here in the State of California and around the world.

Since 1992 when the state of California reinstated the death penalty, Episcopalians, along with people of all faith traditions and people with no faith tradition, have been vigiling and protesting at the gates of San Quentin Prison, where California’s Death row resides. The last execution vigil for Michael Morales, which was stayed at the last moment, occurred in 2006.

Tomorrow night, Tuesday, September 28, we will again be vigiling several different ways to protest the planned execution of Albert Brown at 12:01 am on Wednesday morning, September 29. Brown was convicted of the rape and murder of Susan Jordan. We pray for Susan Jordan and her family, for Albert Brown and for all on Death Row, and for the abolition of the death penalty in our state and around the world.

A PRAYER TO ABOLISH

THE DEATH PENALTY

By Helen Prejean, csj

God of Compassion,

You let your rain fall on the just and the unjust.

Expand and deepen our hearts

so that we may love as You love,

even those among us

who have caused the greatest pain by taking life.

For there is in our land a great cry for vengeance

as we fill up death rows and kill the killers

in the name of justice, in the name of peace.

Jesus, our brother,

you suffered execution at the hands of the state

but you did not let hatred overcome you.

Help us to reach out to victims of violence

so that our enduring love may help them heal.

Holy Spirit of God,

You strengthen us in the struggle for justice.

Help us to work tirelessly

for the abolition of state-sanctioned death

and to renew our society in its very heart

so that violence will be no more.

Amen

www.prejean.org

religious tolerance in line at Safeway, or, peace by shouting

2010-09-14T12:57:00.000-07:00

Last night, after a long day, I went to my local Safeway to buy a salad for dinner. I usually go to the self-check out these days, but for some reason last night I was too tired to even do that, so I found a line and got in it.

Ahead of me was a young Muslim woman in headcovering, with her two sons. Her basket was sorted into a variety of piles of food, all of which were being paid for separately and in different ways. I could see right away we were in for a long transaction, so I took a deep breath, started to pray and asked God to please let me be a vessel of peace rather than a vessel of frustration and anger. I had to keep breathing because there were many piles of food and many boyish skirmishes for the mother to handle, along with many payments to make.

Finally, the checker was heard to say "I'm sorry, but this is not enough money." It occurred to me to pull out my wallet, but the man behind me beat me to it, and in a loud, not-unkind voice said "please let me pay whatever is needed. I have lots of Muslim friends and they don't deserve the treatment they are getting in our country. "

Then began about thirty seconds of that which I was not prepared for. An excited and heated exchange between the young woman and the man. The words were not unkind, but they were loud, and it was all I could do to hold my place in the middle. My own nerves had been shattered yesterday and I prayed fervently to remain in peace. I wanted to join in the fray.

Finally, as the fever reached its height, I threw up my hands and said softly "please, can we be in peace." The checker looked relieved, the woman and the man smiled at each other, and the man behind me said "Lady, sometimes you have to say something to have peace."

And he is right.

Thank you, anonymous man in Safeway last night, for the teaching!

The golden rock as a mystery

2010-08-23T20:32:00.000-07:00

I am so very fortunate to have close women friends. Recently, some of us spent a weekend in the mountains and happened upon an incredible swimming hole where the icey river water flowed over the slick granite rocks in a way that just demanded that we go in. We spent one afternoon lounging by the river. I brought my camera as usual, and became absolutely fixated on a rock in the stream. It seemed to me that the rock was partly golden, and as the sun darted in and around the storm clouds, the rock changed color and hue and seemed to call out to me to capture its image. I took picture after picture, lying on my belly, perching precariously on river rocks, taken by this small piece of creation. I don't think I captured it, but this is my best effort.

The theologian Karl Rahner speaks about gaining understanding as allowing ourselves to be grasped, instead of grasping. Then theologian Monica Hellwig relates this to mystery and says that in this way, we can understand art as mystery, people as mystery, communion as mystery. She also points out that opposed to magic, which does not presuppose any understanding or encounter, mystery invites the fullest participation and encounter.

This is what I preached about on Sunday and the idea is still with me today. As I ponder both this rock and the experience of allowing myself to be grasped by this rock in the river,I strikes me that in a very ordinary way the mystery of God in creation did grasp me, with my consent and with my involvement. It may just be an old golden rock in a river, but it has served as a useful contemplation of the encounter with mystery.

Darkness and light

2010-08-11T09:51:00.000-07:00

Last night there was a big power outage in my neighborhood. Fortunately I had lots of candles, and so lit some and pondered how it would be to live without electricity. It would be very hard. I peeked out my windows and saw flickerings in other windows as well.

What surprised me about the pitch blackness was that it brought out all sorts of people; young people laughing, cars revving, shouts ringing throughout my neighborhood. As I lay in bed reading by candlelight, I suddenly felt slightly nervous. My home, and I, transformed from quiet old-fashioned darkness into a safe haven from the inky black, unknown night. I said my evening prayers and went to sleep, feeling somewhat on edge but also protected. I woke up some hours later, lights blazing, power had been restored. I slept well the rest of the night.

What does darkness bring forth in you? Just as there are many colors of darkness, so too I believe there are many responses. I was fearful, and frightened for all the people who never have the safety I do. I also understood, after a while, the energetic voices calling through the night. What is your most recent experience of darkness?

left brain, right brain, which brain?

2010-08-10T18:29:00.000-07:00

Due to some nagging injuries, I have recently been forced to switch from starboard to port (actually, I will eventually become a "switcher", both sides, but for now, I'm trying to undo 20 years of starboard.) My coach and I are both amazed that my rowing technique has improved with just this simple change.

Of course for people like me who are not very ambidextrous (I am VERY left-handed!), this is a major accomplishment. After only about two months on the new side, I cannot actually imagine going back to the old way. I can only imagine that there is something in my brain connections which cause me to be one-sided. I'm sure that some friends will remind me of my sometimes "one track mind" upon reading this, which can be good and not so good, depending. In any case, I am getting used to the new side.

At a gathering last night, a priest colleague was talking about the labyrinth and how it looks like two sides of the human brain. I had never really thought about that before. As I try to encourage the synapses to fire in the correct sequences through muscle memory and practice - body prayer - I will also continue to like this idea of traveling the spiritual path towards a wholeness which will let me work from both sides.

The Blame Game

2010-06-06T18:20:00.000-07:00

This blog began some time ago, when I realized that the things the boat teaches us are the things that religious people, and in particular this Christian priest, need to know and put into practice. Today, my topic is the Blame Game.

At practice this past week, I rowed in an eight that had, well, not the smoothest row in the world. Blades on the starboard side kept slapping the water, our legs seemed to go out from under us. At first, we were beating the other boats, but as practice went on, we fell further and further behind.

In this situation, there is a temptation to blame the problems on others: is this not a universal human tendency? At the same time, rowing teaches very explicitly the ways in which this stance is not only unhelpful, but harmful. As soon as one enters the Blame Game in the boat, muscles tighten, limbs stiffen, yanking begins, expletives pop out unbidden. The boat begins to fall behind, fall apart. One Big Blame, a thought or an action, infects each rower and like a virus soon overtakes the entire crew. Few people can withstand the assault of the One Big Blame, which soon mutates into smaller but no less insidious fevers. It is very difficult to recover once this has occurred.

My boat did something different that day. No Blame. No Fault. Our coxswain simply tried to keep helping us come together. People took their own roles seriously and did what they could to help, to correct, to unify. All nine of us. It got a little better, not too much.But it was enough, at least for me.

When we got back to the dock, no damage had been done, we were all still OK, just as we had been when we started practice. Blame damages this way: it allows me to sidestep any notion of my own personal role and responsibility. Others have failed where I have, at the very least, been trying to succeed. It gives me a fleeting sense that I am perfect (one might say I am God!), and you are not. What a tantalizing hierarchy and power trip that is!

The No Blame Game is much less dramatic. Does this make it less interesting? The No Blame Game is so difficult to cultivate in a community. It causes no violence to another. The practice of living a different way - at rowing, at church, with our families - takes commitment, patience, trial and error. And the result is infinitely more life-giving, hopeful, peaceful.

That's what I learned at practice the other day. And I thank the boat - my teammates - for teaching me.

a young buck chomping

2010-05-15T16:47:00.000-07:00

I went to check in at the church this afternoon and as I drove up, I saw a young buck with small fuzzy antlers standing at the end of the parking lot. I watched him for a long time, and as he grew comfortable he helped himself to some tender new oak leaves (who knew?) and stood there contendedly chomping on them.

I decided I needed a picture so quietly rummaged around in the car and found my camera. By the time I was ready, he was off looking for some more scrumptious new growth. I called "deery deery deery" but all I could see was his rump hiding among the buckeye trees (which new growth simply SOUNDS more delicious!)

I had arrived on the hilltop in a bit of a funk and found myself driving away smiling. How could I stay in a funk seeing God's creation acted out right in front of me? An ordinary Saturday afternoon with a blessing to send me on my way. Thank you, Creator!

Sabbath

2010-05-14T08:40:00.000-07:00

For years I struggled to figure out the pacing of my life. About ten or more years ago now my oldest friend and I decided to have a phone date every Friday at 5:30 am...the time worked for both of us and was the only time we could find when both of us could speak uninterrupted for a good amount of time.

This morning Alexa and I talked as usual and as I got up and found tea it occurred to me just how important this Friday morning sabbath time has become. The only morning of the week I don't leap up to get to practice or to work, the one time of the week where my prayer time can be leisurely and creative. I'm also so aware of how many friends, parishioners, colleagues do not have the luxury of this time, and so that knowledge makes me doubly grateful for it.

As the Pray as you Go people asked this morning, what is the fruit that we are supposed to bear and offer to the whole world? I think the fruit for me today is the center and balance which comes out of Sabbath time. It's almost time to go get my hair cut, but until then, I plan to keep gathering in and try and pass it along to others I meet today.

Fam

2010-04-30T20:56:00.000-07:00

I am so amazingly fortunate to have family members in every part of my life. Jesus had a very wide understanding of how to speak about family, and I love that understanding. On Easter, my original family - my brother and sister-in-law and two nephews came to church, and wonderful parishioners caught us on camera.

Love you Bar, Linda, William and Peter!

There WAS a rainbow there a moment ago!

2010-04-20T09:53:00.000-07:00

I left practice today and as I was driving home, saw a full, ground to ground BEAUTIFUL rainbow which stretched across the sky. I remembered the many times in Sunday School that we have talked about God's meaning for the rainbow...and I prayed for the covenant between God and us to be remembered. I often think that the sign is for us, but the Scripture clearly says that this is God's reminder for God's self, which I like to ponder as well; it is a mutual reminder, perhaps.

I simultaneously drove like a bat out of hell to the church, where I ran in, found a camera, and got ready to capture the incredible rainbow. As always, it eluded me, and I was only able to capture this charged, emotional sky. Oh well, I can at least take the memory and make this my prayer for today.

from the Message Bible, God's Rainbow conversation with Noah:
,
God continued, "This is the sign of the covenant I am making between me and you and everything living around you and everyone living after you. I'm putting my rainbow in the clouds, a sign of the covenant between me and the Earth. From now on, when I form a cloud over the Earth and the rainbow appears in the cloud, I'll remember my covenant between me and you and everything living, that never again will floodwaters destroy all life. When the rainbow appears in the cloud, I'll see it and remember the eternal covenant between God and everything living, every last living creature on Earth."

Let it be

2010-04-15T21:42:00.000-07:00

I've been singing lots of my favorites lately from memory. Hymns, folk songs, just whatever. I even thought about going and renting a guitar for a month from the local music store, since one of my long-term plans is to pick up again an instrument I last played when I was 13 or 14 or so.

Today, the long that kept coming into my head was the Beatles, Let it Be. I remember singing this song at a St. Paul's Burlingame gathering...two of us played guitar and three of us sang, and I thought I would die of nervousness. It may be the first time I can remember being conscious of "performing".

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,

speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,

speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be.

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

Easter Monday

2010-04-06T09:36:00.000-07:00

Point Reyes was beautiful! O happy day!

Now the green blade rises....

2010-04-04T00:01:00.000-07:00

...from the buried grain, wheat that in dark earth many days has lain; love lives again,

that with the dead has been:

Love is come again like wheat that springs green.

Happy Easter!

from the Hymnal 1982, hymn 204

Munching

2010-03-30T16:29:00.000-07:00

I had another 23 hour retreat this week at Bishop's Ranch to prepare for Holy Week. I spent some wonderful time Sunday evening sitting and listening to these Cow Friends eat their dinner. Their happy California Cow crunching of the green grass was only occasionally interrupted by a moooo or another random Cow noise. I tried to feed them some of the delicious tall thick green grass on my side of the fence, but these Cows were intent on grazing quietly.

Listen carefully and you can hear them too! Reminds me of sitting in silence on retreat and listening to my fellow retreatants eat. Listen!

The Important Things

2010-03-24T10:01:00.000-07:00

The other day I had a good and serious conversation about a serious matter with a colleague. At the end of the conversation, we checked in with each other about one another, and remarked that that was the right way to end the conversation.

As I drove home, I passed the St. Vincent cows as I do every evening. Usually, they are standing on their feed pile looking silly. That night, they were up against the fence, perfect conversation partners. I pulled over and started talking to them, about my day, about the delicious food growing just out of their reach, etc.

Soon I had the whole herd flocked around me. I fed the calm ones big bunches of green green grass, and then asked them to pose for my camera. They were mostly amenable. Interestingly, the biggest ones were the most skittish. Thank you, cows!

Where is my bird book?

2010-03-22T21:03:00.000-07:00

I have a western bird book which has become inconveniently misplaced. For the past week, a little sparrow/finch/chickadee-like bird has been appearing at my office window like clockwork. Birdie hops onto the bench, peers into my office, and then tries vainly to come in. Bump, Birdie hits head and falls back. Flies back up, looks again, tries again. This has been happening for one week now, every day.

At one point I tried to put a black sweater in front of the glass, in the hope that not being able to see a reflection would cause Birdie to stop trying. Nope, Birdie keeps at it. Not hard enough to knock out Birdie, but today for the first time I saw a lot of puffing and preening and general irritation. It reminded me of the photo of the mad bluebird

This morning I was praying Morning Prayer and my prayer was interspersed with Birdie's head bumps at the window. It occurred to me to ask what spiritual lesson one might take from such effort. That one is attracted so much to something that one continues to passionately try to reach it, no matter how many times failure occurs. That if one does not succeed, one can simply try and try again (a la the Merton quotation I used in my preaching yesterday).Or in the spirit of coming to consciousness in Lent, that one's unconscious (well, in the case of Birdie, mistaken) reflection of oneself is so very attractive as to cause one great frustration at times.

Birdie has much to teach, I think. Hope he/she comes back tomorrow!

The Perfect Example of Imperfection

2010-03-16T17:15:00.000-07:00

We've been having strange weather lately, and it usually goes day by day. One day stormy, the next day sunny. Some days, though, the intervals are even shorter, and we get rain and sun (and rainbows!) all in the same day.

The other afternoon, I was driving home and was amazed to see three black clouds over these houses, amidst white puffy clouds and blue sky. The sky was very dramatic and also very fluid. All sorts of weather in one small moment. I drove quickly to several spots to try and get a shot, knowing I had very little time to capture what was happening. I have taken to keeping my camera in the car (shhh, don't tell anyone!) for just this purpose, and I was feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Try as I might, I could not get to exactly the right place. I was too far away (hence phone wires in the picture) or too close (and the camera lense wasn't wide enough.) Finally, I just decided to take the pictures. And I liked them, despite the fact that they were not perfect, hence a good example of imperfection for me to ponder today.

This is something to work on, I think, trying hard, not getting just the perfect result (or the one imagined in one's mind) and still being satisfied. I only realized I was satisfied with this picture as I found myself returning and returning to it. I'm grateful for the three black clouds and blue sky; they really showed me something!

A Sunrise

2010-03-08T09:33:00.000-08:00

This morning as I drove to the boathouse the most incredible sunrise greeted me from the East as I rocketed down 101. It was a huge ball of orange amidst the softest white and grey clouds and mist. My first reaction was "it looks like an impressionist painting". But really, it was a divine gift given to me as a companion. Soft, bright and compelling.

I tried to find of a photograph that might give a hint of what I saw this morning, but I can't; I don't have one. Part of the spiritual element of photography for me is recalling that not everything I see with my artist eye can be captured, in words, in art, in any way.

So I simply go back to the basics and say "thank you" today.

Did to myself again!

2010-03-06T18:34:00.000-08:00

After practice this morning, I went by the Humane Society...just to browse, I told myself. As I went through the kennels, I thought about how Molly Brown came into her own over the three and a half years I had her. And how that coming into her own just kept happening as she became more comfortable and sure of herself. And I thought of how that happens to people as well, as they do their work and come into their own. It is such a blessing to watch, this coming into one's own.

I realized today - again - that I'm not quite ready for the next dog. Molly Brown stole my heart and I'm not through that time of mourning. So, a picture of soft and gentle Molly Brown who never once growled (well, not at people at least!) She was the best.

A Day of Showers and Blue Skies

2010-03-03T21:39:00.000-08:00

Beginning early this morning, around one, and continuing all day today, the skies opened and the rain poured down...and then the clouds disappeared and the blue sky appeared. It happened over and over again. When I left church tonight, the rain was starting again and our Middle Tree with Christmas Lights led me to my car, and home.

As I left my spiritual director today, I thought about this and realized that people punctuated my day the same way. Rainclouds opened and poured, then the sunshine of people I love and care for appeared. A great day!

Rest in peace and Rise in glory, Bob Hope.

2010-03-01T21:25:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I attended a wonderful celebration of life and funeral for Bob Hope. I never thought of Bob as an uncle, really, since my Aunt Vera married him when I was an adult. But yesterday at the service I met the man through the eyes of others and it was such a sight to behold.

The ministry that Bob offered was backpacking. The church was packed with people whose lives had been changed through this ministry. One pastor described the sacrifice Bob had made in opening this sacred and private part of his life - the Sierra Nevada, to others. That which had been his personal passion he shared with young and old alike. Another person spoke about running down a steep scree field and being overtaken by Bob, laughing, saying 'this is dangerous' as he passed the young man by.

So today I prayed for Bob, gave thanks for his life in my aunt's life, and thought about a bit of John Muir I read the other day, quoted in my friend Chris Highland's book Meditations of John Muir...The Shaking Temple.

...if for a moment you are inclined to regard these taluses as mere draggled, chaotic dumps, climb to the top of one of them, and run down without any haggling, puttering hesitation, boldly jumping from boulder to boulder with even speed. You will then find your feet playing a tune, and quickly discover the music and poetry of these magnificent rock piles...

A Cow in a Field on a late Winter Day

2010-02-22T17:00:00.000-08:00

I spent last night at The Bishop's Ranch. I have not been on retreat since my spiritual home Mt. Calvary burned to the ground in late 2008, so I decided to Retreat for about 20 hours and drive up the road to this amazing place on Westside Road in Healdsburg.

I've been going to the Ranch since Youth Group at St. Paul's in Burlingame in the early 1970's. While the Ranch has changed much since then, it has also remained changeless. The fog rises in thin whispy layers on the morning horizon, the green grass looks greener than any place on earth, and the chapel calls out to worshippers to pray in her simplicity and light.

I was grateful for the care of the staff, who made sure I was tucked in my room with no worry than what time to wake in the morning. The generosity of the place is embodied in the land and in the people who find their ministry there. We are so fortunate to have such an amazing resource available to us.

One of the things I love nowadays at the Ranch are the cows that dot the hillside. They amble grazing in the evening, send their earthy aroma heavenward in the dawn, lie in the early morning sun soaking up the rays, and remind me of simplicity. Cows, Ranch, thank you!

Full Speed Ahead Backwards Through the Bridges

2009-11-16T20:42:00.000-08:00

On Saturday we rowed waaaaaay out into the Bay, to what we call the tripod. I was in the bow seat of the eight, which seat I love because it calls for exceptionally good rowing and so is challenging, and is also a place where the bigger rowers (like me) rarely sit. So my teammate Corrie and I, an unlikely bow pair, were happy to be together, rowing one and two.

Our coach announced that we would race all the way back, under the freeway bridges, past the boathouse, down the straightaway, to the "finish line". I was in the youngest boat (we handicap by age), so we had to sit for a very long time while the other boats got a head start. We had a great race, about twenty minutes in total.

It was at the point that we rowed full pressure under the bridges that it occurred to me, again, how much trust it takes to go full speed ahead when you cannot see exactly where you are going. There are eight of us, trusting a teenager to steer, movitate, correct technique, all going full out backwards. But the bridges are especially tricky; and scary, since large concrete pillars pass into our peripheral vision as we are just barely missing them with the ends of our oars. And then, once safely through, we pull again with all our might, trying to push our boat forward.

A life lesson Saturday, about being aware of the perils, and still nativating through them, backwards, trusting that all will be well. That is the kind of thing I learn from rowing. I was thankful for rowing Saturday, it was a great reminder.

Tutoyer

2009-09-08T09:42:00.000-07:00

I took years of French, in high school,in college, and then even spent a semester studying in Paris my sophomore year. My college professor M. Leggewie was very strict on the use of the familiar "you"...in French (if memory serves) "tutoyer"...to use the familiar "tu". He used to say that he only said "tu" to his wife. That's a high bar for the familiar and it has stuck with me all these years.

I haven't thought of Tutoyer in thirty years. This morning I decided to pray the Lord's prayer en francais (which I needed to look up, of course). Last week some wonderful French-speaking people came by Nativity seeking a place for their new congregation to worship. We prayed in "franglais" (French and English all mixed together) and it inspired me to return to a language I used to be quite proficient at.

As I prayed I was astounded to realize that God is addressed as "tu" which makes perfect, complete and wonderful sense. It is a wonderful sensate reminder of God Out There and God Inside, God Vast and God Intimate. So many other words that could be shared. Je te remercie, mon Dieu (hoping those are right words!)

My favorite psalm, for the 27th day...

2009-08-27T11:30:00.000-07:00

Ok, ok, I looked ahead to Evening Prayer, but I can't help it, this is my favorite psalm of all. Birds of paradise always look like nature laughing to me!

When God restored the fortunes of Zion, *
then were we like those who dream.

Then was our mouth filled with laughter, *
and our tongue with shouts of joy.

Then they said among the nations, *
“God has done great things for them.”

God has done great things for us, *
and we are glad indeed.

Restore our fortunes, O God, *
like the watercourses of the Negev.

Those who sowed with tears *
will reap with songs of joy.

Those who go out weeping, carrying the seed, *
will come again with joy, shouldering their sheaves.
Psalm 126

a light upon my path

2009-08-26T20:13:00.000-07:00

Your word is a lantern to my feet
and a light upon my path.
Psalm 119:105

Psalm for today

2009-08-24T08:04:00.000-07:00

I pray the psalms these days a la Cranmer, using the daily morning and evening prayer rubrics as a guide. This verse is Nativity's favorite; when I first arrived, people told me that David Barnette had used it as an offertory sentence. I suspect it was also used as the Scripture to open Morning Prayer.

The day feels like fall to me today, crisp and a bit cooler than summer, so a picture of Yosemite in autumn, many years ago.

On this day the Holy One has acted;
we will rejoice and be glad in it.
Psalm 118:24

Happy are the people whose strength is in you...

2009-08-23T15:58:00.000-07:00

...whose hearts are set on the pilgrims' way.

Those who go through the desolate valley will find it a place of springs, for the early rains have covered it with water.

They will climb from height to height, and the God of gods will be revealed in Zion.

Psalm 84:4-6

God is in the whisper

2009-07-28T19:33:00.000-07:00

During the past week, the tree trimmers have been working on the huge oak trees that surround my house. The one out back, which I believe is actually two trees, was so overgrown that it was difficult to see the branches.

The crew chief came over one morning to talk with me, and as we stood gazing up at the majestic tree, he raised his hand and swept it across the landscape of the tree, as if to illustrate the words he was about to say. He said, "the breeze will be able to come through the branches now, and it will be much better for the tree." I loved that image, and the beautiful language he used to describe the art of what his crew had just accomplished.

I thought of this image of the breeze the other morning as I was re-watching the amazing film Into Great Silence. One of the first scriptures used in the film is from 1 Kings. It says that Elijah was told,

“Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Sheer Silence. Other translations say Gentle Whisper, Still Small Voice. I kind of like the idea of Gentle Breeze Through the Oak Tree. All of the deadwood pruned away so that the voice of God can be heard.

The Dilemma

2009-07-15T12:42:00.000-07:00

I decided that a good portion of this year's vacation would be dedicated to two things: teaching myself how to row a single racing shell and practicing the craft of photography. I've been doing both of these things since I was a young child and like to see my devotion to both of them as part of my life-long spiritual practice. Who knew that both activities would continue to challenge me and transform me?

I'm reading Galen Rowell's Mountain Light as I try and conquer the digital camera and become as familiar with it as I have been with my beloved film cameras in the past. Familiarity with the mechanical ins and outs of the camera is essential before the image-making can begin in earnest. I know what I want to see in the image I capture, and so I need to know how to make the camera work for me.

I'm also rowing the single every day we don't have team practice, and I'm finally at the point where I only have two or three "uh oh" moments each time I venture out: "uh oh" being shorthand for "I think I'm about to go in the water." This is progress. I am committed to becoming proficient to add repetoire to my rowing. I would like to race the single next year. There is something very different, and extremely satisfying, about getting immediate feedback about my rowing. One bad yank and I receive an "uh oh" moment. One good stroke and I send the boat skimming through the glassy water, feeling that I could row, like the icon of St. Brendan, to heaven.

My vacation has presented me with a newly discovered dilemma. I'm not quite sure why I haven't noticed this before. Both of my activities take place best at sunrise. Actually, photography actually best happens through sunrise: before, during and after. Sunrise light is my favorite time of day. The water is the most smooth, the possibility for good row and good image at its peak.

But there is only one sunrise each day,today happening at 5:59 a.m.. And I want to be at two places at once! How did this happen, that my passionate activities best happen in the same moment in time? Choices need to be made, for sure, but my discovery makes me want to re-think my "real life", that is, after vacation, schedule. These two things feed me like nothing else, and I need and want to do them both fully. Something else to ponder on StayCation!

rowing the single and centering prayer

2009-07-06T17:01:00.000-07:00

I have resolved to learn how to row a single shell this summer. I have made many maiden voyages, year after year, but until this year have never found the discipline to keep at it so that it becomes relatively comfortable.

I am rowing what I call a "skinny single", that is, a racing single shell, and in about ten days I have progressed from an ever-so-tentative push away from the dock with an iron grip on my oars, to the point where I can go up and down the creek and only have two or three "uh-oh, I'm about to tip over" experiences. This is progress!

This morning as I was contemplating the glassy water (which turned into ripples as the wind came up) I thought about how learning to row the single shell - perhaps learning anything new that requires such concentration - requires at the same time a complete letting go. If I think too much about anything, I get tense and things go haywire. Kind of like when, in centering prayer, I indulge yourself in following whatever pops into the prayer time. Instead of being open to God in prayer, I end up on some tangent. Interesting, perhaps, but that distraction is for the other 23 hours of the day.

Suddenly the prayer time has been consumed with, as Thomas Keating would say, following the thought down the river, rather than gently returning to the sacred word.

Suddenly the smooth rhythm of my oars and the send of my shell are disrupted by too much thinking. Just do it, let the boat do its work and get out of its way.

Prayer and rowing. Two of my favorite activities!

the silence at the start

2009-07-01T10:17:00.000-07:00

At the start of one of my races at Vancouver Lake last weekend, I had the thought to write some words about the silence of it. That particular morning was a bit less windy than the rest of the weekend. Just a small breeze, but enough so that we had to keep sculling the bow around to keep our boat pointed straight down the buoy lines.

Long moments of silence while people sat ready, oars buried, boats locked on, rowers watching the starter's flag. Then comes the command from the starter "sit easy", there are still small adjustments to be made. That silence before the start lasts an eternity. It has the same quality as the silence in church after Communion. The silence of the silence reigns supreme. It is a moment in which anything seems possible, all is fulfilled and all is potential. A brief moment in chronological time and yet eternal in its fullness, all in all. The moment is fleeting, all is ready, and yet in it is contained the universe of what is and can be.

Then the starter's command again, "Attention (more silence) Go!" and the flag drops and the lats of eight people engage and the legs of eight people go down to pry the boat forward. And we are off, into the fray, one stroke at a time. We don't know what the outcome will be but we surely know the goal, one good stroke at a time.

What can the church learn from this, when the silence is so much the same? The people are fed, and ready to go out the door to feed a hungry world. How can the church command, gather, harness, focus, her people's attention in a similar way?

In Prison

2009-06-10T20:53:00.000-07:00

I'm realizing that prison has been on my mind the last few days. The other night when I was coming home on the ferry from a meeting in the City, I was compelled to take out my phone and snap some pictures of San Quentin Prison through the streaky ferry window. I row past this very large and very old prison almost every day, but for some reason the light on the buildings, which light would normally want to draw me in, instead drew my inner attention and prayer to the many ways that people are imprisoned.

Then, at our Fresh Start meeting today, I chose the following Scripture for our worship together. There was rich, compassionate, poignant sharing and dialogue for which I was very thankful.

Hebrews 10:32-39

Recall those earlier days when, after you had been enlightened, you endured a hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and persecution, and sometimes being partners with those so treated. For you had compassion for those who were in prison, and you cheerfully accepted the plundering of your possessions, knowing that you yourselves possessed something better and more lasting. Do not, therefore, abandon that confidence of yours; it brings a great reward. For you need endurance, so that when you have done the will of God, you may receive what was promised. For yet “in a very little while, the one who is coming will come and will not delay; but my righteous one will live by faith. My soul takes no pleasure in anyone who shrinks back.” But we are not among those who shrink back and so are lost, but among those who have faith and so are saved.

Refreshment for the Soul

2009-05-31T20:56:00.000-07:00

Last week I took a break; my soul needed some refreshment. So a couple of emails to friends and voila, I had a 24 hour trip to Yosemite organized. We blasted out Thursday and back Friday night. Just enough time for a trip up the Mist trail and Nevada Falls, a night in a Curry Village tent cabin, then up early, Yosemite Falls, and home. We had a GREAT time, other than the fact that we were overtaken by an unexpected thunderstorm. Camera survived, Blackberry, not so much. It was exactly the trip I needed.

As we came back down in the thunderstorm, a group of young people from Sacramento asked if they could hike with us. At first I thought they were trying to help us, but as went along, we realized how frightened they were and that we were actually helping them. They would ask "which way does the trail go" and we would point and encourage them onward. As we made our way down the slippery granite steps, I thought of the many ways that our mutual help and aid to each other often goes unspoken, unsaid, and unappreciated.

As we hiked, I gave thanks for these young people and prayed for their safety (and their developing wisdom: for example, to take our advice NOT to enter the Merced River because yes, the current is quite strong at the moment!)

The rainbow on the Mist Trail just beneath Vernal Falls was spectacular, as was the water rushing over fall itself. Praise God for the grandeur which is Yosemite!

the moment of light

2009-05-21T07:48:00.000-07:00

This morning I was "on land" for practice, so Liz T. and I erged a bit and chatted a bit and then headed out for our days. I grabbed my camera, since I am so rarely not on the water when the morning light is coming and then comes. I walked along the creek where we row, very attracted to the fog hovering around while the sun was coming up.

I love the photographer Michael Fatali and especially these words he writes: "Photographing these magical monuments of God's creation requires the practice of great patience. Waiting for hours, days, or sometimes even years for the right light is what is required to communicate the wonder."

I also love that in his field notes, he notes the amount of time waiting for the light he has spent on each image. I hope some day to have more time to wait for the light. For now, it's catch as catch can in between my various activities!

the thirty thousand foot view

2009-04-30T06:46:00.000-07:00

There is something important about getting perspective. I have been buried in the forest for a little too long now, and long for the trees. I love this picture, but especially the shoes. It gives me the idea for a little photo essays on the shoes that have been removed to walk upon holy ground.

blowing my head off...

2009-04-27T09:40:00.000-07:00

I am so fortunate to be surrounded by friends and colleagues who love me, challenge me, teach me, help me offer my gifts. I've always loved Parker Palmer, and am currently (as my class in pastoral care in the seminary is coming to its close) reading Palmer's The Courage to Teach. More insights than I can possible offer here, but I will offer the statement that stands out among all the others... kind of like these shots of seagulls that I just happened to be lucky enough to grab on Saturday during the Amazing Birthday Race. I have to be grateful when something falls into my lap and sticks - like this sentence about truth, or this picture of seagulls - since they are entirely beyond my capability to make happen on my own! Grace, maybe?

p. 106 of The Courage to Teach says: Implicit in this exploration of how we know is an image of truth that can now me made explicit: truth is an eternal conversation about things that matter, conducted with passion and discipline.

from the Glenstal Book of Prayer (and Luke!)

2009-04-22T20:40:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke early, probably because we had an erg test scheduled. I did well enough, but as I prayed in the early morning, I thought of the dawn that I am priveleged to wake up in almost every morning.

In the tender compassion of our God,
the dawn from on high will break upon us,
to shine on those who dwell in darkness,
and the shadow of death,
and to guide our feet on the road of peace.

The New Day

2009-04-20T09:13:00.000-07:00

I have always been a morning person. My current home lights up in the morning with the rising sun, and on Sunday morning as I was getting ready to preach the morning light was especially beautiful. This picture does not do it justice at all, but the best I could muster as I was throwing myself together.

I need to find a way to work some extra photography minutes into my morning routine..usually I am out the door walking the dog or dashing to the boathouse. This morning the water was completely glassy and still, perfect rowing weather. I'm giving thanks today for these past two mornings, and pray that the brightness of the light carries me through my days.

The Labyrinth Dog

2009-04-19T18:50:00.000-07:00

Today we walked the labyrinth with the three young people preparing for confirmation. I've walked Nativity's labyrinth numerous times myself, but this was the first time of walking it with others. I brought Molly Brown, who walks the labyrinth the same ways she walks on a leash...in circles. She's a herding dog, and not too mindful of the "proper" place to be with regard to the leash and to me, her Person.

As we walked today, and as I turned the corners and she circled, I had the sense of a slow dance in circles. Sometimes she stands still, waiting for me to complete my turn, sometimes I stand still and she walks (and tangles my legs) around me. And eventually we reach the center, just as we are supposed to. It takes a while, but we get there.

On this circuitous journey we are on together, thank God for the Labyrinth Dog!

Praise today

2009-04-17T15:47:00.000-07:00

Recently my spiritual director gave me a wonderful collection of spiritual sayings and poems that are in the form of an almanac, to be dipped in to...the perfect response to my recent lament that I have found it hard to pick up a book, any book, and read it straight through. There are half-read, corner-folded-down books scattered through my life - home, office, car - and yet this small book has offered me some amazing words of hope in just the right sized bite.

Here is the offering today:

Praise What Comes

surprising as unplanned kisses, all you haven’t deserved
of days and solitude, your body’s immoderate good health
that lets you work in many kinds of weather. Praise.

talk with just about anyone. And quiet intervals, books:
that are your food and your hunger, nightfall and walks
before sleep. Praising these for practice, perhaps

you will come at last to praise grief and the wrongs
you never intended. At the end there may be no answers
and only a few very simple questions: did I love

finish my task in the world? Learn at least one
of the many names of God? At the intersections,
the boundaries where one life began and another

ended, the jumping-off places between fear and
possibility, at the ragged edges of pain,
did I catch the smallest glimpse of the holy?

“Praise what Comes” in The Light of Invisible Bodies by Jeanne Lohmann

Hallelujah!

2009-04-15T08:54:00.000-07:00

Molly Brown, my canine companion, tested negative for heartworm yesterday after having the first cycle of manufactured arsenic treatment...which is brutal on the dog (and to the worms.) Somehow I believe that she knows she is better...tail is wagging more and her lively self seems to be back. Of course it may just be me, but who cares, all that matters is that she is getting better. One young parishioner baked her special get-well treats, which I am sure made all the difference!

Easter

2009-04-12T06:01:00.000-07:00

I have a number of close friends and parishioners who are experiencing deep grief and loss this Holy Week and Easter. So for them, I imagine that the day of Resurrection is a bittersweet and even confusing day. For them, then, this image. It's a common flower, showing up here and there at Nativity. I don't know if it is a weed or a flower, but it is beautifying the hilltop amongst the true thistles and rattesnake grass and miner's lettuce and purple morning glory and the wild iris and milkmaids and lilies. Even amongst the jumble, the new life of God appears.

Gethsemane

2009-04-08T21:32:00.000-07:00

Another’s words
are not sufficient,
cannot describe the intense desire
to do as he asked, Wait with me.
Like another, my eyelids close,
Every intention to wait and watch and weep
with him
fades like a dream,
like the vigil itself
meant to be remembered,
caressed,
held.
Instead I sleep again, three times,
I cannot fulfill my desire.
But still I rise with him in the garden
and dare accompany him. And he
forgives.

Tenebrae

2009-04-08T20:41:00.000-07:00

21. E Tenebris

COME down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand,
For I am drowning in a stormier sea
Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee:
The wine of life is spilt upon the sand,
My heart is as some famine-murdered land,
Whence all good things have perished utterly,
And well I know my soul in Hell must lie
If I this night before God’s throne should stand.
“He sleeps perchance, or rideth to the chase,
Like Baal, when his prophets howled that name
From morn to noon on Carmel’s smitten height.”
Nay, peace, I shall behold before the night,
The feet of brass, the robe more white than flame,
The wounded hands, the weary human face.

Oscar Wilde (1854–1900). Poems. 1881.

Five Years

2009-04-03T19:54:00.000-07:00

The fifth anniversary of my mother's death is on Sunday, but I really am going to celebrate it on Monday. She died on the Monday of Holy Week, and as I was recounting to parishioners the other day, the gift of that week, which is still present to me, was the overwhelming outpouring of love from friends, colleagues, from the church. Clergy and lay friends stepped in and took over Holy Week; they did not ask, they simply came. I came back on Easter Day with mom's ashes under my arm; my dear friend Nancy Eswein came and served, friends from all over came to church, mom's ashes rested under the altar. It was the best Easter ever.

My friend Pamela's father died just six days before, so this time of year is dear for both of us. We spoke today of our parents, and it's true; no matter what day the 5th falls on, the Monday of Holy Week is always a solemn day for me. The church does that to us...takes a day and makes it holy.

That Sunday, Easter, I preached a sermon and baptized a young six year old boy and talked about the messengers at the empty tomb. I told about the messenger that had been sent to me several weeks before.

I said, "in the dream, my father and mother were together, my father completely healthy, free of his own life-ending illness, and he was there holding the arm of my mother, who was struggling in her own distress. And when I woke I knew in my soul that resurrection, that new life happens, that the communion of saints is real, that in his life in God, my father is whole and healthy and watching out for his beloved. And he and Jesus are both welcoming her into heaven. And that knowledge is real, more real to me than any theology."

May she rest in peace, and rise in glory.

Fishing

2009-03-28T20:15:00.000-07:00

For some reason I've found myself in lots of fishing conversations recently. I have several friends who are avid fly fishermen, and then I came across this picture I took many moons ago of my brother Peter, fishing I believe along the Rogue River in Oregon. I have so many fond memories of Peter and fishing...he loved to fish, whether with a drop line off the Balboa pier in Newport, or in a river on a family vacation, or just anywhere. At the time, I didn't understand; I didn't like fish, couldn't imagine waiting, waiting, waiting for the fish to bite, if ever it did, the whole enterprise seemed to me an exercise in frustration.

Nowadays, the people I know who love to fish, Paul, and Nancy, for example, exemplify people who are passionate about most everything they do. And fishing no less than anything else. At the same time, in my imagination, fishing takes my friends away to another place, where quiet and waiting and yes, perhaps an occasional nibble on the line, are ultimately satisfying. I'm not sure I'll ever even try fishing, but I have a new appreciation for the love of it.

the wind...

2009-03-25T12:21:00.000-07:00

It has been blowing a gale up on the hilltop these past few days. The wind comes howling through the Lucas Valley, which connects ocean to bay. The wind is always unsettling to me, disturbing, although also compelling when I am out sailing, windsurfing or doing other "wind" activities. This picture is a very old one which I just had scanned. Not the best photograph, but it speaks to me today. It was taken in 1991 when I attended the Henley Royal Regatta with my friend Sandy. This is of some grass in the English countryside. I love the action of the wind and the stillness at the center. It reminds me of the view I had of my own legs this morning at rowing...as we take up the rate and row full pressure, the water we are rowing in begins to blur, while the rhythm of the rowers stays in full, clear view.

Kind of like a life of seeking God. Things can be blurry, speeding by, and usually there is a little glimpse of clarity, even when the wind is howling so loud you can barely stand it, or the boat is going so fast you cannot believe it. That little glimpse, like the small portion of bread and wine we receive each time we make Eucharist together, nourishes us for the journey ahead.

Pie Jesu and what friends are for...

2009-03-24T14:23:00.000-07:00

This morning an incredible Brandon Marsalis rendition of Faure's Pie Jesu woke me gently...I had to go find the music and buy the CD it was so beautiful. My fleeting thought was "if I died right now, listening to this music, I would be happy." What a thought when one is trying to put warm feet on cold floor and get moving. I eventually did get moving, but only because of the thought of my friends waiting for me at the boathouse. I actually lay in bed and came up with so many plausible excuses to give: tax appointment is coming up, I don't feel well, Molly Brown needs me to stay home...and some others I have already forgotten. Fortunately, the strains of the music plus the allure of friends got me vertical eventually. And I'm glad I did, it's a good day.

a soothing light

2009-03-12T21:02:00.000-07:00

Today I spent a good part of the day at the Bishop's Ranch, which is the retreat center of our diocese. I've been going there since the early nineteen seventies, when I went there with my youth group from St. Paul's in Burlingame. The chapel has always been a soothing place for me, from the dark cold mornings when we used to follow the Franciscan friars in for a sleepy Morning Prayer, to today, when the chapel was filled with warm light and the glow from the stained glass windows.

I found myself giving thanks today, and the words of T.S. Elliott came:

You are not here to verify,
Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity
Or carry report. You are here to kneel
Where prayer has been valid.

Stay and see

2009-03-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

I had a wonderful conversation yesterday with my friend and colleague Jim, about the holiness of the hilltop Nativity sits on and the ways in which the seasons change in front of us. There is something profoundly satisfying about being in a place long enough to be able to enter in to the subtle changes that nature offers. I realize that I felt that way about Mt. Calvary, and now understand the same relationship with Nativity.

We were talking about the green, which has just in the past couple of weeks burst out, thanks to the rain we have received. We talked about the grey green hills and our longing over the past month for Mother Nature's regular show of emerald green new growth...it has been slow in coming, and perhaps will be shorter this year, but that moment of brightness on our ever-changing hills is here for an instant right now, it may be gone this afternoon. As we sat overlooking the valley, we both breathed in the moment and gave thanks for it. Amazing just how far just a hint of the holy can carry us.

I love the rattlesnake grass at Nativity. It is a later spring thing, but I saw yesterday the beginnings of it as I walked Molly Brown. For everything a season!

the green green trees

2009-03-08T21:09:00.000-07:00

Today after church I went home and collected Molly Brown and my camera and headed back to hike back down to the creek. It takes less than five minutes to travel from the church parking lot to the water's edge, but today, it took me at least twenty minutes since I spent lots of time trying to capture the beauty on the way. I've realized that Molly Brown is an excellent photography companion...she simply sits down or continues her nosey exploration when I decide to spend ten minutes trying to photograph one tree. The light was beautiful, but hard to photograph today.

One Ugly Row

2009-02-21T20:27:00.000-08:00

U - G - L - Y - you ain't got no alibi! You UGLY! You UGLY!!

This is a football cheer that our teammate Beth taught us a few years back. To be most effective it must be shouted several times and immediately followed by raucous mocking laughter at the uglies. That was my boat today, eight uglies and a coxswain who was trying to make us pretty, but to no avail. Sorry, Francis!!

When Kate started the team chanting that cheer about my boat today (ok, I egged her on, but still, they did chant!!), our boat screamed with laughter too. Sort of, with forced smiles. We had just slogged through thirty minutes of the ugliest rowing most of us had experienced in a loooooooong time. No power, oars dragging, crashing back and forth, we were so far behind the other boats that they were getting cold from sitting still while we were still catching our breath. U G L Y!

There were even comments about Jesus walkin' on the water and what was NOT walking on the water today. It made me think of the story of Peter trying to step out of the boat and sinking...that's what we did today...sink!

After practice, we talked about it. Some great learnings were voiced: we pulled it together at the end, we got to experience a dose of humility, we "lost well" (and as I kept pointing out, by a large margin as well!) We went and had breakfast and went our separate ways. We'll meet back up again Monday morning, for yet another practice. Another chance to find the elusive perfect stroke that we are seeking, the swing that we didn't have today. The boat speed. The set. The commitment. The whole enchilada.

That's what practice is about, finding ways to put what we know to use. Together. That is the key item that may have been our undoing today: whatever it was that we were doing, we were not doing it together. 8 uglies instead of one ugly boat. Which created one ugly row for all of us.

As I sit and finish my sermon for tomorrow, I can't help but ponder the Ugly Row in light of the Gospel story of the day, which is the story of Jesus ascending the mountain and being transfigured - mystically changed - in front of the others. To me, the more important part of the story is the going down the mountain, carrying that vision of transformation and holiness with them. There's a glimpse of God's glory that is to be taken down the mountain and shared with others.

In the church, we will speak of the glimpse we have seen and will carry it down the hilltop in various ways. We've all seen the glimpse we need...it's what keeps us coming back for more and more and what keeps us giving, more and more.

At rowing, at least today, the glimpse was evident in its absence. That which we seek, and can't make happen on our own, did not appear today. Perhaps Monday. The glimpse is what keeps us coming back for more and more and what keeps us practicing, more and more.

Until at last we will have a beautiful row...or at least, less U G L Y!