Saturday, January 25, 2020

On prayer …

“Just as so many of the mystics have taught, doing what you’re doing with care, presence, and intention is a form of prayer, the very way to transformation and wholeness. There is no trick, no magic formula to becoming one with Reality. There is only living and, as you know, this is much harder than it first seems.” — Richard Rohr 

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We had a smooth flight down the coast to Fort Myers, and then an easy drive across the causeway to the island of Sanibel. It was a bright, blue sky day, and the views from the causeway to the island and the sea and the various inlets and ponds and smaller islands were dazzling. I was lucky to be the passenger, because I was able to watch palm trees and soaring pelicans instead of oncoming traffic. Delycia, as always, was a steady, sure-handed driver, and I was definitely an unwavering watcher of this very special southern coast.

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My poem for today …


She simply wanted to serve.

She didn’t care whether it was

raising up a branch of blossoms

weighted down with late snow,

or showing a bee by the window

how to get out to the boundless air.

She thought about ways to serve

almost constantly. She could carry

an old man’s sacks from the store

to his car. She could send her smile

across the street to a stranger

just to help his life raise itself

above its sorrows. She could press

other hands inside hers. She made

lists of services she could perform,

even flowers she could comfort

in her gardens, or a sunset

she could stop and praise.

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