reflection

Reflection on Weekend’s Book Bash

Standard

This past weekend was spent in scavenger hunting fun! Since the pandemic, they’ve (GISH) been doing more and more mini-hunts to give people on lockdown something to do and raise money for charity. This most recent hunt was called a Book Bash and most of the items centered around reading and writing. My go-to’s if you will. With my writing retreat cancelled I found myself with nothing* to do so I signed up at the last minute.

[*Nothing to do means: cleaning house, taking a shower, going to mass, planning and cooking dinner, writing, preparing and filing my taxes, typing up interfaith meeting notes, writing and sending Cursillo reports, and half a dozen other things that are still on my to-do list, but hey who doens’t have 48 hours to spend aimlessly. I also signed up for a free vision journal workshop at a food co-op.]

Aimlessly doesn’t accurately describe the weekend, but I think you get the drift of the lack of impulse control I sometimes have.

Before I share the few items I did, I want to share the link to the charity that we supported with our registration fees: World Central Kitchen for their current humanitarian work in Ukraine. Their leader is Chef Jose Andres who leads with his heart and encourages giving especially where getting hungry people their necessary nourishment. If you have the mean, please give generously. They are on the ground in the world’s poorest and dangerous places, bringing hope with their meals.

World Central Kitchen

Continue reading

Through the Labyrinth: Lent, Week 2

Standard

Last week was kind of extraordinary. I am making great effort to attend Mass on Sundays on Facebook regularly, religiously if you will. There is a routine of the mass structure at our parish, and I’m sure it parallels many parishes: Music, Announcements, Prayer for the Deceased, Stand, Processional, Mass begins.

When there is a change to this, I can tell simply by who is milling about near the altar during the first musical portion. On this second Sunday of Lent, I saw our parish trustees. I felt tense. I felt anxiety creeping in and when they approached the ambo and stated that they’d be reading a letter from the Bishop, it did not help my tension and anxiety.

As I’ve mentioned previously (probably too many for some), my parish priest died suddenly in October and we’ve been waiting to hear about a new priestly appointment. This was that announcement. I held my breath, not that I have any control over the choice or know many of the priests very well, but still, I waited with literal bated breath.

It turns out that I do know this priest who will soon become my new priest. I actually cried. I was happy (and am) that he will be joining our parish. I’m feeling excited as I write this, nervous but not apprehensive and I think the announcement was the catalyst that set my week on the right path, although it was a very busy week planned (as is this one).

You will see from the labyrinth photos that I ran out of room and needed TWO more extensions. Unbelievable. The one negative was the my writing retreat scheduled for next week was cancelled, but again, I can muddle through and self-direct my own writing retreat while simultaneously doing a writing/reading scavenger hunt.

I had several close moments where I felt G-d’s presence palpably, I listened and learned, I wrote and I drew and I kept up with my readings. The week was overflowing with grace and spirit.

Looking back on last week, I am also looking forward to this busy week. Celebrated my son’s twenty-fifth birthday last night and today I am Zooming all day.

I feel good.

Lenten Labyrinth, Week 2.
Part 1.
(c)2022
Lenten Labyrinth, Week 2.
Part 2. (Plus book list)
(c)2022

Monday Morning Gratitude

Standard

There’s a lot to be said about gratitude. I had a really busy and good week and this one is looking to be equally busy; let’s hope it’s equally good. I’ve found myself coming out of a struggle and I am grateful for that. It wasn’t an overbearing or debilitating one, but it was like a constant dull headache: it was always there, and I was always aware of it, and I couldn’t stop it. The dull ache is still there, but it doesn’t seem to be constant and that is a blessing; one that I have much gratitude for.

March is always a busy month for retreats and workshops. The buds and birds are coming out of their shells and coming alive, and so it seems are the classes to break everyone out of their doldrums. There were two online and one in person, and they were splendid. I am very lucky with the quality of teachers and presenters in my life. I needed to add more circuits to fit everything onto my Lenten labyrinth!

Monday begins the week with my oldest son’s birthday. He is twenty-five! Two. Five. How?! When?! We’ll be seeing him and taking him out for dinner and then going back to his house for cake (store bought – I’m a good cook, but baking is not really my forte). I already have it in the fridge and I’ll spend this morning finding a gift for him. He is so hard to buy for. That is a complaint that I can deal with.

We are so lucky to have him (and his siblings)! They all hold a special place, but the first one is just the first one – the one that began it all – parenthood, mistakes, lessons learned; incredible, overwhelming, abiding, never-ending, unconditional love.

My week ends with the writing retreat that wasn’t. It was cancelled, but to bring about the positivity it’s given me the chance to sign up for a mini-scavenger hunt with Gish revolving around books – a Book Bash if you will, and that should be entertaining and loads of fun with friends.

And right in the middle of the week, I’m starting with a group after a two year forced absence and I am looking forward to reflect with them on my Cursillo tripod and recall and discern close moments and there were a few where they’re hadn’t been in so long.

Gratitude awareness is something that can change a mood from not great to better, lightening the darkness if only we can sit with it and see it. Light the proverbial candle. Sit by the open window. Name one thing that you are grateful for; one thing that gives you contentment, and then sit with that for a few minutes before continuing your day.

Lenten Journey: 2nd Week of Lent

Standard
1st Week in Lent.
Labyrinth. Journal. (
c)2022

Yesterday as I began to look at the new week’s labyrinth I realized how important mass has been to me in more than a spiritual way. You’ll see the picture next Wednesday, but this is what I wrote yesterday morning:

“I do notice that the days I go to mass are filled with other things. Whether it’s errands or prayer or publishing/scheduling here. I am invigorated to do more. I also haven’t felt that for some time.” And in parentheses I added, “This is a busy week though.”

I know I’ve had to push myself to do some things since the fall, and it hasn’t been easy. Of courses, the pandemic hasn’t helped. Like, at all. October has always been an unsettling time for me. What should have been a fully joyous time led in a few short weeks to a devastating time and unconsciously I’ve held that uneasiness yearly. I only recognized it when it was brought up to me and I try to lessen the difficulties by being aware and looking inward. When my priest died this past October, let’s just say that did not help my spirit.

As I write this, I’ve only just realized that his death and my mother’s are exactly two months apart (seventeen years apart though). That’s some coincidence. Or something.

My parish church announced this weekend about the forthcoming appointment of our new pastor, and I didn’t realize the stress and anxiety that I’d held inside myself. The ease I feel now that the appointment is certain is palpable. I’m sure it helps that I am familiar with this new pastor, and I’m looking forward to my continued journey in the faith and the church. I do think that this news has had a positive effect on my spirit and may have given me the punch in the arm I needed to return to my previous level of interaction (in several parts of my life).

Just as it takes one thing to stop us in our tracks or put us off the path, sometimes all we need is that one little (or major) catalyst to jump start us. This was one of them.

I also have two workshops/lectures, one day of reflection, another class, an interfaith meeting, and preparing for a retreat at the end of the month, plus my oldest son’s twenty-fifth birthday. And I’ll be cooking three meals this week, which is a lot for me lately. (Real meals, not hot dogs or pasta. Possibly more on that Friday.)

Here, in the middle of this second week of Lent, I feel an optimism, a hope that my Lenten journey will continue to be meaningful and will set the path for the rest of the year after we mourn the Crucifixion and celebrate the Resurrection in the days and weeks to come.

Have a peaceful and blessed Lent. May the week land gently.

Inspire. March.

Standard

Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accesible and wisest of counselors, and the  most patient of teachers.

Charles W. Eliot

One week ago was World Book Day, although everyday is a good day to read a book. This is proved by the fact that this is one week late. Things happened, one of which was laziness, but not entirely. Last week was a particularly not great one, but nothing that can’t be overcome.

This is the list of books I read since last Monday. The ones with the asterisk are the ones that I completed before tonight (although most were not read entirely in seven days.)

  • Daily Reflections for Lent: Not By Bread Alone 2022 by Amy Ekeh and Thomas D. Stegman, SJ
  • Thirsty and You Gave Me Drink from Clear Faith Publishing, various authors
  • Quantum by Patricia Cornwell *
  • Learning to Pray: A Guide for Everyone by Rev. James Martin, SJ
  • Spin by Patricia Cornwell *
  • The 1619 Project by Nikole Hannah-Jones, The NY Times Magazine *
  • The Book of Gutsy Women: Favorite Stories of Courage and Resilience by Hillary Rodham Clinton and Chelsea Clinton
  • Never Tell by Selena Montgomery (Stacey Abrams) *
  • Search Me: A Way of the Cross in Solidarity with the LGBTQ Community by John T. Kyler *
  • Where the Deer and the Antelope Play: The Pastoral Observations of One Ignorant American Who Loves to Walk Outside by Nick Offerman

It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop. –

Confucius
Sunflower. (c)2022

My thought daily are with Ukraine, each morning and throughout the day checking on updates. My thoughts have also been with my parish (and selfishly myself if I’m being completely honest) as the search continues for a new pastor. I wrote a short reflection on Facebook a day or so ago, and I do feel a slight weight lifted as the parish trustees announced on Sunday our new incoming pastor (who will start at the end of April).

A friend described her feelings as “being at ease with the decision” and I would agree with that sentiment. I’m not anxious although it helps that I’m acquainted with the new (to us) pastor and looking forward to his ministry, but of course, my feelings are bittersweet. Fr. Jerry, my only priest so far in my journey would talk during his homilies at funerals as the bittersweetness of the Christian journey: we who are left behind are sad, but the one whose gone home is with Jesus and so how can we resent that.

I’ve written before about my struggle to move forward in my faith and my practices and I’m reminded of something else that Father Jerry so wisely said during funerals.

He has also talked about a life that’s not ended but changed, and I think with this new pastor announcement, I feel that my Catholic journey isn’t ended, but it has changed, and with this resolution, I may be able to be changed and follow this new path. I also feel more reflective things to say on this subject, but my words need a bit more study and discernment.

At the moment as I look around at my messy table and my busy calendar, I hope that I can spend some prayer and meditation time to get back on track for Lent. There are other challenges ahead, and I need to organize myself for them. It may be time for a list; a very, very long list.

First Week in Lent

Standard

As similar and routine as each Lent can be, each Lent is also unique in the felings it conjures up. The different readings, the different reflections, the different books chosen for study in this year as opposed to the last one. Further down you’ll see my first two weeks of the Lenten Labyrinths that I’m journaling with over the next thirty some odd days. There are two for the first week because I wasn’t thinking and began on Ash Wednesday and then began another one on the first Sunday. Looking at it each day lets me think intentionally about what I’m doing during this Lenten season.

Today is Wednesday, so there was a soup delivery from my parish earlier today. Funny story: I was sitting in my dining room on hold with my insurance company, and I hear my husband. I ignore him because I’m on the phone, then I hear banging on the door. I look up and out my kitchen door and I see a mass of grey hair, thinking my husband got locked out, although I can’t figure out how since the last time I saw him he was in his office. I get to the door and it’s Tom from church with the soup, standing in my mudroom. (I usually put out a garden table on Wednesday, but I forgot and it’s snowing, so he came in the unlocked (for the kids) door.) I thank him profusely and take my bags of very hot soup.

I sat in quiet contemplation, savoring each spoonful of hamburger barley soup, thinking (or is it praying over) the people in the parish center kitchen stirring and dividing the soup into individual plastic containers. I taste each vegetable and I dip the bread until it practically disintegrates in the hot, tomato-y broth. Each bag has a necklace with a cross and a medal of St. Peregrine. I do not know this saint, but I will spend some time this afternoon reading about him and studying what he is known for.

I think about how food brings us together even when we’re apart, and I look forward to this quiet, solitary ritual every Wednesday until Holy Week.

What are you pondering this first week of Lent, the first moments entering the desert?

Lenten Labyrinth. Ash Wednesday through Saturday 3/5/22.
(c)2022
Lenten Labyrinth. 1st Sunday in Lent.
(c)2022

National Day of Unplugging

Standard

I keep a blog planner inside my regular datebook, and I keep a list of yearly happenings in my Evernote app on my Kindle; everything’s on my Kindle. Apparently, this date (for the day of unplugging) was wrong (right weekend though), but I’m going forward because the other option is skipping it, and I’ve decided that moving forward is the better choice. It’s not exactly a resolution, but it’s…something.

This weekend was/is National Day of Unplugging, running from sundown Friday evening until sundown Saturday. Take an hour or two or the whole twenty-four, unplug and get away from technology. (And to be honest, you could pick a random day on the calendar and follow through with unplugging, but they have a website.)

If this is something you think will work for you, do it.

A couple of years ago, I unplugged our family at the dinner table. It’s not always feasible; we sometimes (maybe more than sometimes) eat in front of the television, I instagram my food, and on holidays, I photograph the family with my cell phone. We still continue to abolish the phones at the table, although I don’t criticize my son’s girlfriend even though I’ll give my son a pointed look when he takes out his own phone. And to give her credit, she’s not the first one to take out her phone.

I’ve been thinking about this day all week, and I realized that despite this sounding like a good idea, it’s hard to disconnect and I don’t even mean the addictive nature of screens.

I am definitely well aware of the addiction. There was a time that I checked my phone every five minutes for messages and all through the night for FOMO (fear of missing out for those of you not fluent in text). I think I’m much better than I’ve been in the past. (I know I am.) I will actually leave my phone in another room and I silence it about 90% of the time in meetings or with people unless I’m expecting a message from my kids.

However, I think technology and screens have really been a benefit for many of us.

We have the opportunity to meet like-minded people who have our same interests and our medical problems. We can talk and share and learn. If I’m stumped on something, I’ve been known to go to Twitter or Facebook and ask. People on the internet are very helpful (most of them and most of the time).

For those of us with mobility issues, we have an easy link to the library or the doctor (through telemedicine). Our prescriptions can be automatically filled and delivered.

When I was growing up, we visited both sets of grandparents every weekend – Saturday for one set and Sunday for the other. I would go with my cousins to their side of the family who I wasn’t related to but none of that mattered. We were part of the same family through my cousins and everyone was within an easy drive to spend lunch or the afternoon, watching home movies or running around front lawns.

Now…

And with the ongoing pandemic and the lockdowns sporadically repeating throughout the year, screens have kept us going; through work, play, and family get togethers. Where would we have been the last two years without Zoom or Google Meets? Remote learning for schools, work from home for parents, televisits for doctors all happening because of our screens.

While it is an understatement to say that Facebook has its problems, I get to see my cousin’s kids growing up. I’ve never met the kids except when two were babies, and it is so wonderful to see their soccer games and hockey tournaments and beach trips. And their smiles. Through her mom’s Facebook I see my uncle and aunt who I haven’t seen since well before the pandemic and it’s a treat.

I’ve been able to attend church services through livestreaming when I couldn’t (or wouldn’t) go in person. I’ll be attending this morning as well. I’ve attended online retreats and classes, lectures in other states without having to leave my house. What a great thing, especially in the winter!

Ninety-nine percent of the books I read are on my Kindle. I haven’t taken a physical library book out in five years – they’re all borrowed on my Kindle. I am almost constantly reading and without my screen I wouldn’t have that.

I watch Chef Jose Andres while I make his Angel hair pasta. It’s not like he’ll make a house visit to teach me these professional techniques.

We’re able to see what’s happening on the ground, in real time in Ukraine and we are able to counter Russia’s lies. In real time. We can support when they’re alone in their homes, scared and defiant. In real time. We can see their bravery and resilience and get inspiration from the Ukrainian people. In real time.

I do unplug on Yom Kippur. I still read on my Kindle, but I turn off the internet and stay away from Twitter and Facebook and email. I will text in an emergency.

What I’m saying is: if you want to unplug, Unplug.

If you want to take a break, decide how long, and Unplug.

But I’m also saying being plugged in isn’t the boogeyman. For many people it’s a savior and unplugging is a privilege that they don’t have.

It’s important to remember the benefits we get from being connected as much as we enumerate the stuff we perceive as bad.

A Lenten Labyrinth

Standard

Lent is right around the cor – hmm…I guess it’s here.

I’m not ready. My prayer life is struggling, and the idea that I need to make a forty day plan for myself is giving me hives. It’s daunting. Between new bouts of covid isolation keeping me from in person masses and spiritual gatherings and my continuing struggles to come to terms with the sudden death of my priest this past fall, I have been having difficulties in focusing on my prayer life. I read constantly. I finally resumed listening to podcasts this morning while I was setting up my medication. My daughter has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow so my plans for 9am Mass to receive my ashes will need to be adjusted. I made three phone calls yesterday and mailed a letter. I’m not sure what this has to do with Lent or prayer or anything other than keeping the chronic depression at bay.

I’m still at ‘what do I give up‘ part of the process and I just don’t know. With mask mandates ending and war in Ukraine, the giving up decision of my Lent feels superficial and not at all relevant.

Should I stop drinking soda? Watching TV? Starbucks? Giving up the internet for a couple of hours a day? (Heaven forfend!) Cheese? Chocolate? Cigarettes? Alright, that one would be cheating; I don’t smoke. Can I give up being judgmental for forty days? I’m not sure I can manage forty minutes.

What is a worthy of sacrifice that doesn’t strike me as trite or worn out?

However, there are some things that I have worked out: a weekly Scripture series through March, a weekend retreat, reading, and art journaling with the use of a Lenten Labyrinth (pictured below).

Beginning tomorrow, I will read Learning to Pray by Father James Martin, and Life is Messy by Matthew Kelly and a daily devotional: Daily Reflections for Lent: Not by Bread Alone 2022 by Amy Ekah and Thomas Stegman. I’m sure there will be more reading as the days go by, but these three are on my goals list.

I will pray the rosary at least weekly.

I will make one pilgrimage, although I’m not sure to where yet.

I will work diligently on my Labyrinth Prayer Book.

I will attend Sunday Mass on Facebook and commit to attending one daily mass in person during the week.

I will keep up with my labyrinth in the art journal. It is similar to the spiral journals I shared a few years ago after my trip to Wales. I plan on looking at it daily and trying to draw or write something relevant. I have enough copies for a new labyrinth each week.

I also have included a downloadable clean copy on my home page for anyone interested in journaling through Lent. (Sorry about some of the crooked lines.)

(c)2022

I think the most important thing I can impart to readers and to myself is to be easy on ourselves. Focus on the three Lenten principles: prayer, fasting, almsgiving.

But Me No Buts

Standard

In a Twitter thread unrelated to the books, I was introduced to the Amelia Peabody mystery series through her umbrella and a reference to whacking someone, who shall remain nameless, in the shins with it. This was in 2018 in the middle of July. I immediately checked the first five books out of the e-library and began my adventures. And that was that. No more books were available. And then recently, I was informed that all New York residents were eligible for an e-library card from the New York Public Library. And thus begins a new chapter in my reading material. I discovered to my delight that they had all but one of the books and I was able to read the rest of the twenty book series in a ridiculously short period of time.

And then I read them again.

Since the end of October, I have been in constant touch with Amelia Peabody and her family. I am currently finishing the last in the series (chronologically) for the third time and each reading brings with it notices of new things, new insights, new critical looks: at the Emerson journals, at the time period, at the caste system and bigotry of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

My first read through was in publication order; my second was in chronological order. I read some excerpts from the later books to witness more of Ramses and Nefret’s relationship and in my continuing reading I realized how much I have in common with Amelia, both to my satisfaction and my chagrin.

I wanted to share some of my thoughts today on National Umbrella Day as well as during the month of February when so many things occurred after the discovery of the tomb of Tutankhamun: the opening of the burial chamber in 1923 (February 16), the raising of the sarcophagus lid in 1924 (Feb. 12), and the suspension of the excavation (for a year) in 1924 as well, returning to work at the end of January of the following year.

National Umbrella Day. Art of Amelia Peabody’s umbrella, open and closed with the background of one of the pyramids of Giza.
(c)2022
Continue reading

Inspire. February.

Standard

Well done is better than well said.

Benjamin Franklin

To be honest, I’m not sure if that holds for writers.

One of my office spaces.
(c)2022

I’ve recently read two book series, both fiction, both taking place during the same hundred years or so, period pieces, both murder mysteries and romance, and while there are things that I like and dislike about each of them, I am finding that I learn more about myself and my own writing as I pass my critical eye over them.

The second one is intriguing and interesting although full of (sometimes unnecessary) exposition and descriptions, as well as changing perspectives (not indiscriminately, but by chapters) with colloquial language and appropriate proprieties between gender and servant class relationships.

The same could be said of the first series in the cases of colloquialism, proprieties, and gender/servant class relationships. There is also a feeling of overabundance (in both series) of feminism that I find anachronistic for the time periods, but I could be relying on stereotypes myself to feel that way.

Similar things can be said about the first one, although the historical perspective is a bit more specific. I am more attached to the characters of the first series and I have not come to terms with the ending of the series. That’s not to say that the books’ conclusion was not satisfactory – it truly was, but I’m not ready for the series to be over and I am not competent myself in the time and geographical period to try my hand at fan fiction. And while I very much enjoy the second series, it has not captured my heart as much.

What does this have to do with writing?

Well, it has to do with the specific writing (or planning) of my book on my journey to and through Wales.

Some things I have added to my outline are:

  • Maps. It may be easier to describe my adventures if readers can see where I was geographically.
  • Historical perspective. Much of my relationship to Wales is counterbalanced by my research into the history of medieval Wales, which fostered a deeper understanding and connection.
  • History. Including some of the history of the places I traveled, especially how they related to my journey.
  • Multiple genres are okay.
  • Quotations at the beginnings of each chapter to sort of set the stage. I also like recipes and photographs (which these two series do not have) and I’m trying to decide if these would be appropriate for my book in any way. Perhaps in the case of recipes as an appendix.
  • My faith journey being a main part of the relationship, both secular faith and religious faith.

I’m sure that I will find more things to include as I hone in on the path my writing of this book should take.

*I’m interested in suggestions for a new title for this series going forward rather than Inspire and the month. Comment below, and don’t forget the links (found on the home page) for the Spotify comments and the Writing Challenge.*