What Am I Waiting For?

I was standing in line at Trader Joe’s right before Thanksgiving, and overheard a young woman ask the cashier where the Advent calendars were. She said she wanted to buy the one for dogs. I stifled a guffaw when he told her to look in aisle three. This was no joke! Advent calendars help children endure the long wait until Christmas with a daily chocolate. Maybe dogs get milk bones, but do they also need help waiting for December 25?

When my daughters were young, we always had an Advent calendar (never for pets), right next to our Advent wreath. I made my girls wait to open the little window each day so we could all share the ritual, complete with lighting the candles. I lectured them that waiting and longing is half the fun. One year, my middle daughter innocently asked, “But Mommy, what are we waiting for?”  My answer made no sense to her, but what a good question for everyone during Advent. Today, the art of waiting seems as obsolete as a dial telephone and the Walkman.

American culture likes to rush things. Christmas trees up at Costco before Halloween;  self-checkout in all the stores; AI for ideas, letter writing; Christmas cards sent in one swoop on social media. Meanwhile, the ancient themes of waiting and watching echo down through the ages. Be alert! Be aware!  Ponder, meditate, and carve out some quiet time amidst all the seasonal hoopla. Savor the moment, breathe. Reflect on the meaning of the season; watch and wait for the mystery of the Incarnation to be revealed in subtle ways. But alas, we cannot wait. We are done with Christmas before it even happens, and cannot wait until it’s over.

During the season of Advent, it often helps to ask: What am I waiting for? Take a few minutes, have a cup of coffee or tea, and try to make a list. You can even do this as you wait in line to pay for Christmas gifts, as you wait for the stoplight to change, as you wait for water to boil, or for spaghetti to cook.  Get into a spiritual frame of mind. Go big and small. Do not edit, just write.

Last Sunday, the first day of Advent, after having read the Sunday Scriptures, I made my yearly list. It was an old refrain. One I have had for decades:

I am waiting for lions to lie down with lambs, for swords to be made into ploughshares, for the proud to be scattered in their conceit, for the lowly to be lifted up, for the hungry to be filled, for the fearful to find trust, and for peace in our homes, our country, our world.  

This kind of waiting spans a lifetime and requires immense patience. Sadly, I am often impatient and feel like a voice crying out in the wilderness. Yet, despite sounding like an old prophet railing at the injustices of the world, I was buoyed up by a hidden grace that seemed to permeate my being. Suddenly, I felt held, sustained, and nourished by an infinite love streaming through the universe.  In a split second, a sense of wonder and compassion pierced right through me. Ah. Those brief minutes of clarity are always worth the wait.

The Autumn of Life

Autumn arrives subtly in California. Yet, the season makes itself known in the lengthening shadows, in turning and falling leaves, in the vanishing perennials, and the spectacular sunsets in brilliant shades of orange, red, and gold. I feel my attention shift to the timelessness of the spiritual life, the rhythms imitating nature’s predictable cycles. Everything is in descent again, and so with me, something forever dying in my soul, with the promise of new life ahead.

According to poet Mary Oliver and to many of the great mystics, “Prayer is paying attention.”   As Fall slowly makes an entrance, I have not rushed the season, but slowly embrace this liminal space with open eyes and an open heart. (Have you noticed how our consumer culture wants to march headlong into Halloween right after the 4th of July? Drives me crazy!)  I’ve experienced seven decades of autumn and do not wish to take anything for granted.  The autumnal experience of 2025 will be gone in three months.  Time to focus on the present before winter takes its place.

My overactive monkey mind is always the biggest obstacle to paying attention. Do you have the same problem? Silent contemplation is the goal, but can often not be achieved without some grounding. To overcome this hurdle, I created a playlist on my iPhone titled “Autumn.” As I take my walks, drive in the car, or do household chores, these songs are like cries of the heart (another definition of prayer) that connect me beyond the here and now.  My content is varied and spans decades. I am not a big fan of popular Christian praise music, preferring to allow the Divine to speak to me in everyday language and situations. Though Classical music is my usual daily fare, somehow, jazz and moody music with great lyrics seem most appropriate now as the days grow shorter.  Here are some of my selections: (I keep adding more each day).

“Try To Remember”  (Jerry Orbach)

“Autumn Leaves”  (Eva Cassidy)

“Harvest Moon”   (Neil Young)

“September Song”   (Nat King Cole)

“Who Knows Where the Time Goes”  (Judy Collins)

“Time”  (Billy Porter)

“10,000 Miles”  (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

“Autumn Leaves”  (Ed Sheeran)

“Time After Time”  (Cyndi Lauper)

“The Moon and St. Christopher”  (Mary Chapin Carpenter)

“Galileo”  (Declan O’Rourke)

“I’ve Learned to Let Things Go” (Cris Williamson)

“Harvest”  (Rufus Wainwright)

“Last Leaf” (Joan Baez)

These songs lead me into conversations with God about the autumn of life. “Has this season passed me by, now that I am well into my seventies?” I ask, sometimes feeling like “the last leaf on the tree,” as Joan Baez soulfully sings.

“What is time?” the Holy One sings to me through Billy Porter. “Is it eternity in heaven or just a hope for peace on earth?”  Peace, something I have prayed about all my life, now seems even more elusive.  I do not say a word, but feel, by some spiritual alchemy, I am heard.

“If you’re lost you can look and you will find me, time after time. If you fall, I will catch you, I will be waiting, time after time.”  Oh God, that’s right! Why have I not learned this lesson yet, after so many years of a serious spiritual journey? Time is slipping through the hourglass at an alarming speed, but I am not alone.

 “Who knows where the time goes?. . . But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving. I do not count the time,”  the Beloved reminds me in the voice of Judy Collins. Yes, yes, yes, sings my soul back through Mary Chapin Carpenter: “If I had a friend all on this earth, you’ve been a friend to me.”

“Try to remember the kind of September when life was an ember about to billow. Try to remember and if  you remember, then follow.” Recognition of faith as an ongoing process, a choice, no matter what season of life I experience, is something worth remembering this beautiful September day. 

May your entry into autumn be filled with beautiful music and ears to hear eternity calling us all to attention.

Soul and Sea Glass

Every Monday,  I meet with some friends in the early morning and walk soulfully on the beach for world peace. This practice started during Lent. We felt the pressing need to do something in a world gone mad with violence, hurtful discourse, and an alarming disregard for compassion.  For one hour of silence, slowly strolling the same coastline, peace reigns mightily in our souls, and we stream that tranquility over the divine internet of grace to those in need. We do not measure success or failure, preferring to allow the Holy One to do that calculation.

The walk is silent, contemplative, and slow.  This is the opposite of a power walk! Senses open, we allow the Spirit to guide our feet, as we look for signals of transcendence.  The secrets of the universe unfold as waves crash on the shore, rocks clap applause, and the sun slowly cracks open the curtains of the marine layer. When on foot, found items abound: brightly colored beach toys, lost jewelry, pulverized fins, seaweed, kelp strings, driftwood, shells, and pieces of multi-hued sea glass. Childlike wonder rises with the tide.

Before these walks, in all my beachcombing during the forty-plus years I have lived here, sea glass eluded me. I envied those who found handfuls and would spread out the blue, green, and white orbs that looked to me like precious gems on velvet. Were my eyes deficient? I asked the group. No, they said, finding sea glass would take some intentional effort. First, I had to know what I was looking for and where to find it.  Ah! There’s a piece of wisdom if I ever heard one.  Sometimes we need to learn how to see the tiny miracles hiding in plain sight. Sometimes we need guides to show us the way.

I listened to the instructions from my wise companions. Walk intentionally. Trust. Let the sea glass find you. Look with new eyes. Be patient. Finally, one morning, Ureka! Tiny white shards appeared! Different from the ubiquitous white stones, the sea glass was smooth, flat, and opaque, a product of the tides’ tumbler. As I carefully massaged the sought-after pieces with my fingers, I felt my soul begin to soar and the troubles of the world flew to the horizon in a fraction of a second. Peace be with you, I heard. And with your spirit, I replied.

Peace be with all of us who cherish this planet and every soul who walks on it.

Read-Walk-Write-Create

Summertime has arrived in all its sun-drenched, salty air beauty in Southern California. I wake at dawn and breathe deeply. Birds perform their daily arias, jasmine incense perfumes the air, and my heart lifts in gratitude. I have been gifted with another day, another chance to embrace life. How can I make the most of this time, surrounded by a million distractions? This is a question people frequently ask in spiritual direction. Choosing action words can help. Here are mine: read, walk, write, create. Prayer is the umbrella over all.

My day begins and ends with reading, nourishment and sustenance for my soul. Long ago, wise spiritual guides told me that with so many choices, I should make a list and only read “the best.” Such a great idea! I love lists and will post some on future blogs. My goal is to read about a hundred pages a day, and I usually have a novel and spiritual book going simultaneously. Reading every day provides a pleasurable escapism, but also provides opportunities for lifelong learning and spiritual growth.

Commitment to writing every day has long been a fulfilling practice. This may not be your thing, but I invite you to try journaling your thoughts about life sometime. Remember, no one will read what you wrote or give you a grade. I promise your concentration and memory will benefit greatly. Writing calms and grounds the restlessness that often accompanies mindless activity. Your writing does not have to be long, nor even your own. Handwritten thoughts and inspiring quotes decorate a paper calendar I keep on my desk. Blank verse poems fill a digital spiritual journal on my computer. Both connect me to the present and give me reflective material for the future.

Walking an hour a day has become an embodied prayer that I never skip, even when I am not feeling well! The Buddhist monk, Thict Naht Hahn, a friend of Thomas Merton, wrote about the importance of walking mindfully by opening the senses and noticing everything in nature. (His book, The Miracle of Mindfulness, is on my top ten list of most influential spiritual books.) I cherish my early morning and late afternoon strolls with my aging Golden Retriever, who slows me down so that I can take a long, loving look at the Real. Walks on the beach several times a week also fill me with wonder. On Monday mornings at 9:00 AM, I meet with friends on Beach Road for “Soul Walk,” an hour-long, silent prayer for world peace. Come join us!

On balance, the introspection of reading, writing, and mindful walking prompts me to create something tangible each day. Most passive spiritual practices need the concreteness of action, and great joy emanates from the process of creating something with my hands.  Whether it’s planting flowers, baking a cake, knitting a blanket, painting with watercolors, or simply rearranging my many-layered collections of home treasures, I feel most enlivened by the process of doing something creative. Giving away or sharing the product also enhances the experience!

How would you describe your practice in four words or less? Everyone is different with different needs, time constraints, and circumstances. The most important part of cultivating a spiritual practice is to actually practice. Whatever you do, I honor and bless your way. This summer, no matter what you decide, stay faithful, keep seeking.

Job Wanted

I have been thinking a lot about the spirituality of work, or lack of, lately. The topic is hot again on podcasts and blogs. So far, my retirement has reminded me how much I loved working. Work, if we love it, defines us in surprising ways, giving life meaning, purpose, and fulfillment—the very definition of an abundant, spiritual life. Now, in retirement, without a “proper job,” I have to find alternative ways to funnel my need to work. Fortunately, there are plenty of avenues available.

At the end of March, my twenty-two-year-old grandson, Ethan, asked us if he could move in for a while.  He’s currently a student at the Laguna College of Art and Design in Laguna Beach.  His reasoning was sound and mature. Living at home in a family of five with pets and constant activity was problematic. He couldn’t focus properly and needed a quiet, solitary place to concentrate on his artwork. Since the upstairs of our house has two bedrooms and a bath, and is unoccupied, we agreed he could stay until school was out for the summer.

Living with Ethan is like living with a monk. He spends most of his time in his “cell” without disturbing anyone. He is quiet, self-sufficient, has few needs, and comes and goes with discipline and purpose. In short, he’s different from most young adults his age. I coax him to eat dinner with us (when he’s here) by providing the food he likes. He seems to enjoy my cooking and sitting down to eat at approximately the same time.  I worry about his lack of social stimulation and if he is truly happy but he assures me he is “fine.”  Unlike me, he is a young man of few words.

This is finals week. Classes are completed for the year, and no summer school curriculum. Now, Ethan needs and wants a summer job more than anything. We have discussed his future many times. His goals are clear: graduate from college, earn some money, move into his own place, and become independent.  Don’t we all remember those yearnings?  While accomplishing goals was never simple, Ethan has other factors against him.  Despite applying for many positions, he has been unsuccessful in obtaining work.  When asked why, the answer is “no experience.”  That common Catch-22 dates as far back as time itself. Simply encouraging him to keep trying seems like a hollow echo, given the many obstacles he has faced.

COVID-19 hit when Ethan was in high school. He spent his entire senior year learning online. His class graduated in person, but the graduates were sequestered into immediate family groups outside, distanced six feet apart.  The gymnasium was empty as we watched him walk across the stage and receive his diploma without fanfare. We clapped and cheered from the periphery, but the sound, muffled and lackluster, fell flat. Ethan spent that summer at home, isolated as we all were, from the deadly virus. In the fall, he enrolled at Saddleback College, also online. You get the picture. He has not had what anyone would call a “normal” young adulthood. So many milestones were delayed, like learning to drive (he finally got his license last summer), experiencing college campus life, dating, and going out with friends.   When COVID isolation was finally lifted, he took public transportation to and from school alone.  In essence, he has lived like a hermit for the past four years. No experience? That’s a matter of opinion. He has learned valuable life skills about time management, solitary endeavors, and navigating online communities with alacrity. But none have helped him find a job.  Unfortunately, this is a common problem today.

Now, job applications are curated by AI, sifting through algorithms and keywords. Ethan’s gets tossed immediately because there is nothing written in the “previous job experience” box. When he inquires in person about a job opening, he is directed to the website’s online application. Frustration is mounting. How does a young person find a job these days?  I am trying to help, but out of unique ideas. I go back to the old adage that it’s “who you know,” a personal contact, that might turn the tide. Convinced that it “takes a village” to find a simple summer job for an honest, hard-working art student, I turn to you, my readers, for help. Any leads are appreciated!

The spirituality of work starts with a job. Please email or leave me a message. Thanks!

Gaia Love

I have recently read Amy Tan’s new book The Backyard Bird Chronicles. She wrote and illustrated this personal account of her obsession with bird-watching during the Covid years. I am especially fascinated by her descriptions of parent birds teaching their babies to fly. There was a time in my life when I was a fledgling on the mystical journey. I was constantly encouraged to leave the nest of my comfortable container of faith and although I was often resistant, the ecstasy of flight was always worth it.

One of the first times I was kicked out of the nest happened way back in the early eighties at a liturgy called “Missa Gaia” (Mass of the Earth). Paul Winter, a celebrated jazz musician, composed the music, utilizing the howls of wolves, the songs of whales, and the call of loons for the main motif and then imitating them on his magnificent soprano saxophone. Mesmerized beyond all words during the mass, I felt the transcendentals–One, Beauty, Truth, and Goodness– permeate my body, mind, and spirit. All wobbling doubt turned into a fiery faith during that hour of holy, extraordinary transmutation.

I immediately purchased the cassette tape and played it so many times that it broke in several places and could not be repaired. I deeply mourned the loss. Before the Internet, there was no way of finding another copy easily even though I tried valiantly for years. A sweet consolation at a particularly needy time, I surrendered the experience, as all on the mystical path must do. Yet, the music of Missa Gaia echoed through many moments of joy in the natural world.

Much to my astonishment, the music of Paul Winter returned to me this Christmas, quite by accident. A friend gifted me with John Phillip Newell’s new book, The Great Search: Turning to Earth and Soul in the Quest for Healing and Home. There, on page 14, was a reference to Missa Gaia by Paul Winter. I flew to my iPhone, opened the Apple Music app, and my heart pounded when the album quickly appeared. The divine sensations came flooding back as I listened once again in rapt ecstasy. No longer a fledgling on the journey, my seasoned spirit flew high, while simultaneously grounding me back into the primordial dust from which we emerged.

Since then, I have listened to Missa Gaia every day. My love for the Creator of our Earth has increased with every listening. Lifted out of the many cares of the world, I rest in the arms of the Beloved, my face often streaming with joyful tears, what I often refer to as “the holy water of the Spirit. “

“Rejoice, rejoice, and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven.” Heavenly moments right now. Here is the link on You Tube that will take you on this mystical mass journey: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYW3tgB10Wg

Celebrate Love (another name for God) on this coming Valentine’s Day!

Epiphany Moments

Traditionally, January 6 marks the Feast of “Epiphany,” when three kings, or Magi, arrived in Bethlehem and paid homage to the Christ child with their mysterious gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.  The word “epiphany” means a “sudden manifestation of the divine in the ordinary” and has grown in popularity these days to mean a sudden realization or enlightenment. It’s like a flash of mystical insight when there is no doubt, even for a few seconds, that a loving God exists. Obviously, these moments are fleeting. As soon as an epiphany happens, the flash is gone like a sunset and no amount of alchemy can conjure it up again.

I have had many epiphany moments in my life, some bigger than others. Most of the time, these flashes of insight are so subtle, they disappear into the mist of forgotten memories. This past year, in aid of my aging monkey mind, I kept track of epiphanies using quotes from books, friends, and other notable sources, in a special log called a “commonplace book.”  Re-reading these entries has been most epiphanous! (I think I just made up a word!) Anyway, I highly recommend this process.

Here are some of the quotes that have resonated, inspired, and enlightened:

  • Every sadness brings its own recompense.
  • After relief comes grief.
  • Ask for what you want, then notice what happens.
  • If we can lean on each other, we can bear anything, anything at all.
  • You will feel love when the sun shines on your face.
  • Believe what you love.
  • Theopoetics is the language of religion.
  • Keep moving.
  • Without mythology, you have pathology.
  • Joy is resistance.
  • Christianity is not a rational religion. It is a logic of love and love has its own logic.
  • We’re all born with the greatest treasures we’ll ever have in life.
  • You will die with a broken heart. That’s what lovers do.
  • The aging process turns us all into monks and that, indeed, is its plan.
  • It’s a huge mistake to read the signs of aging as indications of dying rather than as initiations into another way of life.
  • When you are a writer, all that matters is the story within.
  • I’m not going back.
  • I’m not going to give up.

May you be open to the many splendid epiphanies all around you.

Friends on Twelfth Night

“O star of wonder, star of light, star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.”

The Twelve Days of Christmas are officially over today.  While I always feel a little sad about ending the season, I have had so many wonderful celebrations and illuminated moments this year! Besides seeing “The Nutcracker,” “A Christmas Carol,” and three magical Christmas concerts, I had fabulous family celebrations, Christmas teas with friends, and adventures looking at lights. Then, to mark the end of the Christmas season, a group of faith-filled friends gathered  last evening to celebrate Twelfth Night and the Epiphany, sometimes referred to as “Little Christmas.”

Seventeen of us gathered at a cozy home, still beautifully decorated and lit for Christmas with a magnificent tree, creche, and evergreen boughs.  We intentionally entered into a familiar final Christmas celebration focused on the story of three “kings” who make a long journey, following a star. We proclaimed readings from the Gospel of Matthew, T.S.Eliot’s “The Journey of the Magi” and Jan Richardson’s “Wise Women Also Came.” Then we held a special ritual for Epiphany written by my dear friend, Tessa Bielecki from her book SEASON OF GLAD SONGS: A CHRISTMAS ANTHOLOGY. 

We sang “We Three Kings,” meditated on the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, blessed chalk and then wrote the initials of the three Magi (Caspar, Melchoir, Balthazar) along with the date: C+20+M+B25, over the front door to light the way of pilgrims and seekers.  Afterward, we feasted on delicious appetizers, sweets, and a traditional spicy Kings’ Cake with hidden surprises. As conversations and laughter flowed, I felt surreally caught up in the light of the “star of wonder” by this mystical circle of friends who miraculously decorate my life every day.  

I have said this before, but no one on the planet is luckier than me to have such richness. I say “luckier” rather than “blessed” because I believe God blesses everyone equally. Some of us, in rare moments of transcendence, realize this. No explanations can be given. It is simply pure luck (some call it grace), a free gift, to have such loving friends, rituals, precious moments of togetherness, when all troubles and suffering are put aside and we bask in the glory of a starry night. The only response is gratitude, big gratitude, in my case.

“Friends are the best presents,” is a phrase embroidered on a little Christmas pillow given to me many years ago. May we never take that for granted.

Spiritual Direction on the Eleventh Day of Christmas

Choose a word to carry with you in the coming year

Carry it in your pocket

Put it on the screensaver of your cellphone

That ever-present electronic memory bank in your hand

Or another place you can see it often

An in-your-face reminder

Of your soul’s deepest yearning

Have a good think about your life

What word echoes back at you in the wee hours?

Some quality or characteristic you wish you had?

Need to remember?

  • Peace
  • Surrender
  • Serenity
  • Faith
  • Hope
  • Love
  • Courage
  • Tenacity
  • Balance
  • Generosity
  • Kindness
  • Fierceness

Make your own list

Discernment is a vintage spiritual word

A practice really

Part of the Ignatian Exercises

Along with the Examen

If you don’t know how

Maybe you need a guide

That’s when spiritual direction becomes important.

That is if you know what spiritual direction is

Most think it’s something a priest does

Like confession maybe

Or counseling

But they are wrong

Spiritual direction is companionship

With someone trained to notice glimmers of light

In the darkness and fountains in the desert

Someone who will hold the tension with you

Remind you to have a mellow heart

Ease up on yourself

Hold you to a higher standard

Someone who loves you

With God-like Agape

Who hangs on your every word as though

You are the most important and interesting person

Whoever lived

Someone of deep faith

Pledged to be of service to others

First and foremost

  • Seek
  • Find
  • Become
  • Doubt
  • Stalwart
  • Curious
  • Content

Make your own list for 2025

Then relax

Enjoy

Embrace this fleeting moment

Books on the Tenth Day of Christmas

“I wish I had a river I could skate away on; I wish I had a river so long it would teach my feet to fly. . .I wish I had a river I could skate away on. . .” from “River” by Joni Mitchell

No secret: I am a bibliophile. Libraries and bookstores rank high on my list of favorite places. Lately, one of my most pleasurable activities is scouring the bookshelves of Friends of the Library and local thrift stores. Today, on the tenth day of Christmas, I made a little excursion to offset the “after Christmas” doldrums.  The treasured volumes I find delight and astound me! I love rescuing favorites so I can gift them to friends and family.  I only buy the books I have already read and know are worth the time and effort. The best part, these precious tomes are a bargain—each a dollar or two at the most.

I have skated away on a river of books ever since I learned to read for pleasure. Novels, nonfiction, classic literature, children’s books—well, I love them all. My children and grandchildren are well aware of this facet of my personhood. One of their Christmas gifts every year is a book I think they need to read. I resist the urge to question them later. My hope is that they keep the books and someday, when ready, will read them.

In our technologically-oriented culture, people today do not read much for escape and pleasure any more. That does not settle well in my soul. According to a recent YouGov survey, around 54% of Americans reported reading at least one book in 2023, with a significant portion (46%) stating they did not read any books in the past year; this data suggests a decline in overall reading habits compared to previous years. I find this shocking, especially with anxiety and depression on the rise. We all need a reading river to skate away on sometimes!

 Unfortunately, that river is most often social media, texting, or internet cyberspace environments that do not transport to a land of enchantment and beauty. My youngest daughter is a high school English teacher, and we have many conversations about how to nurture the next generation of readers. Her students read all the time on their phones but not the literature she assigns so she often reads with her students in class to pique their interest in the stories. I think this is a good strategy—sort of like reading with children at bedtime, evoking a sense of intimacy and enjoyment.  Admittedly, this does not work all the time. Mysteriously, many people do not find reading for pleasure a priority and sadly, there are no quick fixes.

Meanwhile, I will continue my crusade to help others find this enriching and free pathway. While challenging, perhaps we elders should share our wisdom (without judgment) and teach our young ones how to skate.

May you feel the glorious freedom flowing from the river of books right at your fingertips.