à dimanche
guided to growth
arrival home, boots wet with autumnthe weekend was a retreat for me, exactly what i needed it to be, methinks.
joelio and i spent saturday in a rather vigorous (and dare i say fun? yes, I dare) house-cleaning and organizing. then, we spent six hours with the oldest of friends, court and tyler, and laughed quite a bit...this felt good, oh so good indeed. after a scalding hot bath, i, for once, was in bed before joel, and fell asleep to the lingering amber musk of incense and thelonious monk.
sunday was a surprisingly therapeutic and soulful release.
we walked up to St. Mark's Cathedral and enjoyed the services there - the music! Oh the music...it's something I probably would have paid to hear, and as I have been craving a choir (i have been singing my whole life, did you know?), perhaps this is the one I can join! A baritone did a solo today from Hayden, and I was almost undone. The choir loft is behind the pews in this gorgeous landmark of a cathedral, and I adore staring at out of the glass windows, listening to this musical prayer. In addition to the music, I was moved deeply taking the Eucharist - the hot wine filling my soul with tears and contrition.
I felt today, for the first time in a long while,
That I cannot actually do everything independently of god, no matter how much flight he gives my wings.
How foolish of me to not see the truth that i am under his wing.
I have lots of faith to beleive that he trusts me to take flight after he has trained me.
And faith to beelive that even when I think I am a skilled flyer,
I am still just tucked under his wing.
I hate this idea.
I love this idea.
Enter the dichotomous nature of trying to understand the divine.
Sigh.
We then walked home in the drizzly perfection of rain Seattle affords, and proceeded to make tea and eggs. After our nourishment, we headed to mom and dad's for our weekly family visit. I sneaked out to the garden with joel for a second and grabbed up some memories. I took a nap in front of the fire place. I ate mom's borsch - which means it's officially autumn.
I now sit before you.
Candle lighted in the dim house.
Happy to bear some of my soul.
Gregorian chant playing.
I hope dimanche, domingo, sunday has brought you:
perspective of the mystery of your life.
rain to cleanse and awaken your soul.
music to quiet any nagging thoughts of tomorrow.
and plenty of hugs from your loved ones.
goodnight.
~crm
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| A Romp 'Bout the Garden |
i know i was made for more than this.
and i feel sorry i haven't found it quite yet.
i sit in this meditative silence and ponder
another life for me.
i think i would have joined a convent,
not because i am desirous of virtue, singleness, or segregation,
but because a life dedicated to
solitude, study, and focused devotion to soul, spirit, and divinity,
sounds simple and good to me tonight.
11 comments:
You've come out of the storm.
This post is so peaceful. I am bookmarking it so that on my most tumultuous days I can absorb these still reflections and lay my tornados down -- in the middle of my rage and chaos -- which is usually the most impossible time to experience the diminuendo into restfulness.
You're always teaching me.
That's the work of a true friend.
Love,
Jillian
PS I always knew you could sing. KJK is a chanteuse as well. I hear that Umber also has pipes. Which means the four of us shall sing together sometime. Let's hope our voices blend pleasantly.
Namaste, my friend to you as well. The teacher in me recognizes the teacher in you - and true friend indeed.
I am a 1st soprano - with a minor in music, classically trained in operetic style by a previous singer at the met. I dropped the minor after my sophmore year because I knew I didn't want to be a performer (I cannot HANDLE the performance aspect), but enjoyed the learning process. I also took 6 yrs of piano lessons, but still never learned to read music. I was in choirs and sang church solos from age 7-20, then lead worship for student chapel in college as well as sunday am worship for the vineyard church. I was rather burnt out, but am now feeling the desire to emesh myself into a choir again.
I hear you play piano and violin too...still? Frequently?
I highlighted so many parts of this to copy here and each passage yanked at water in my eyes more than the first... my bride your words are as beautiful as you are...
because I know your catch-phrase:
"In addition to the music, I was moved deeply taking the Eucharist - the hot wine filling my soul with tears and contrition."
"We then walked home in the drizzly perfection of rain Seattle affords, and proceeded to make tea and eggs. After our nourishment, we headed to mom and dad's for our weekly family visit. I sneaked out to the garden with joel for a second and grabbed up some memories. I took a nap in front of the fire place. I ate mom's borsch - which means it's officially autumn."
"a life dedicated to
solitude, study, and focused devotion to soul, spirit, and divinity,
sounds simple and good to me tonight."
I think more than anything I felt in complete and polarized harmony with your thoughts on these. You have once again found words for me and I content myself to keeping my hands in the dirt at your feet.
it is my eyes now
being yanked.
sigh. you are the only man for me. i am more and more convinced of this.
oh! what sweetness i find.
thanks for these thoughts and for opening the door to a part of your soul that has perhaps been dim for awhile.
i think we always feel that tension between where we are (now) and where we're meant for (eternity). of course mr. lewis calls it the "weight of glory." now THERE is an essay that will have you spinning and crying for weeks.
to hang in the balance between earth and heaven is the most bittersweet, frustrating thing.
and yet here we are.
making the most of it.
thank you for adding your voice to the song of my life. it has only become more beautiful since - and your silences, too, add depth to my life's composition.
kris,
which essay is this?
I don't know what to say except that I feel your words very close to my heart... it reminds me of strange and beautiful days I've had when I've stopped trying to control everything, when I've let myself be soothed and calmed by the Spirit. Oh do you know how beautiful you are?
Reading your post made me realize how odd it is to have Fall without rain. I associate the two, like Jeff Buckley and the Oregon coast. It made me really miss the wetness.
Really beautiful, by the way.
This post made me bookmark your musings, finally. That and the picture found perched at the top of the page.
em,
you are a dear. thank you for seeing the beauty as i am convinced it must be somewhere b/w the lines.
leifers,
oh jeff buckley. i have so many cravings for he and you and pip this time of year. take care of your autmnal self and bask in the nostalgia and thoughts of rain.
jer-
don't worry, i will disappoint you sooner or later - but happy to have you pop your self onto my blogosphere.
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