Don’t Let Go of the Thread

The Way It Is There’s a thread you follow. It goes among things that change. But it doesn’t change. People wonder about what you are pursuing. You have to explain about the thread. But it is hard for others to see. While you hold it you can’t get lost. Tragedies happen; people get hurt or…

Circling around God

I circle around God, around the primordial tower. I‘ve been circling for a thousand years and I still don’t know: am I a falcon, a storm, or a great song? —Ranier Maria Rilke I find much comfort in and resonance with these words of the poet Ranier Maria Rilke. I too am one who has…

Reverence

My spirituality has evolved over many years, as have the spiritual practices that embody it. It now centers on listening with reverence to mystery and practices that open the heart to pain and suffering. “Every being has its own interior, its self, its mystery, its numinous aspect. To deprive any being of this sacred quality…

What Is Spirituality? What Is Not?

I ask “What is NOT spirituality? Every breath, every moment, we are living with Spirit. With Divine breath, we are experiencing all of life. Rumi speaks “Oh human angel, your path is perfection in the divine sense—not in some artificial absence of struggle, but in the wrestling of darkness and light that ignites the fire within…

My Journey Called Spirituality

Spirituality in my life is best described as a journey. It is a path that has ebbed and flowed, weaved and twisted. It has been filled with joy and peace, resistance and angst. I have felt enlivened and renewed and downtrodden and deep despair. One of my favorite poets, Rainer Marie Rilke, writes, “The only…

Spirituality as a Craft

When I think of spirituality, the image that comes to my mind most is that of a craft. The crafts I most often think of when I put it to this metaphor would be something like preparing a tea or seasoning blend. This is because, to me, spirituality is best defined as practices we use…

Trailing Arbutus

In early spring, when the snow reveals the sleepy black earth, my mother and I would take a short walk around my childhood home in northern Michigan. Behind the house, the yard dips lower to reveal a birch-filled marsh where deer have had a path since before I was born. My mother would take my…