Sunday, November 11, 2012

A handful of flour and a little oil

The first reading for  today's liturgy is the beautiful story of the widow of Zarephath from 1 Kings 10-16.  It is easy for many of us to identify with her.  Her resources have (literally) run out.  Her supply of food and of hope has dried up like a brook without water.  It is then that the prophet, Elijah, appears asking for water. Her poverty does not prevent her from setting out to get the water but when he asks her for bread as well she kind of loses it and lets her desperate state be known.

So what  is it like for you when your resources are meager and someone appears at the door of your heart asking you for something you think you don't have.  The resources may not be food at all;  it may be your time that is being asked for, your ideas and creativity perhaps--and you feel that nothing is left.  You have nothing to give.  At times like this it might be a good idea to go to the window of Zarephath.  When you believe in the "little" you have, it has tremendous potential to increase. When you remember the crumbs of your life, miracles take place:

Having eaten my last crumb
I hear a voice in the wilderness of my heart,
Bring me a little water
the voice pleads.
I am off for the water
when again I am interrupted,
Bring me a scrap of bread
the voice calls.
I freeze inside, barely able to believe
the demands of God.
It is kindness to give someone a drink, yes
But to give out of an empty house is agony.

Someone is asking for a crust of bread
And I have only
a few tears
a handful of flour
a little oil.
The sticks in my hand
are to build a fire,
to bake a few crumbs for myself.
before I die

But the call waits in my soul
like a volcano.
I bake the break in silence
with my few tears
with my handful of flour
with my little oil
The salt from my tears is the seasoning.

The hungry one eats and is nourished.

Suddenly I am hungry no longer
My vessel of flour is undiminished.
My jar of oil never runs dry.

When you have gathered up the crumbs
of all you have and are
And baked  your bread
in the only place left:
the oven of your heart, 
Then you will know what it means
to be bread for the world.

There is a wealth in poverty
that ought not be wasted.
There is a nourishment in crumbs
that ought to be tasted.

--Macrina Wiederkehr, taken from A Tree Full of Angels

Hold this poem up against your life and pray with your own handful of flour and your little oil.  How many loaves can you bake?

Thursday, October 25, 2012

It's a Gift!

What you miss 
             when you don't get up
                            in the morning!

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

Macrina's Movie List

Macrina’s List:  Wonderful movies for prayerful reflection/discussion 
Sorry folks!  Not necessarily feel-good movies

  • A Far Off Place 
  • As it is in Heaven                                                                                                                                   
  • Constantine’s Sword  (excellent documentary)
  • Departures  (Japanese film about honoring the dead)
  • Dirt (excellent documentary)
  • Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close 
  • First do no harm
  • Freedom Writers
  • Gifted Hands
  • Guzaarish
  • How to Cook Your Life (documentary)
  • Iron Jawed Angels
  • I’ve Loved you so long
  •  I Am 
  • Lars and the real live girl
  • Peaceful Warrior
  • Monsieur Lazhar
  •  Motorcycle Diaries                                                                       
  • My name is Khan
  • Of God’s and Men
  • Redwood Forest
  • Salmon Fishin in Yemen
  • Sarah's Key
  • Smoke Signals
  • Temple Grandin
  • The Boy in the Stripped Pajamas   
  • The Blue Butterfly
  • The Pearl Divers
  • The Secret Life of Bees
  • The Secret Life of Words
  • The Visitor
  • The Soloist
  • The Station Agent
  •  The First Grader
  • The Last Station
  • The Tree of Life [very symbolic]    
  • The Way
  • Shaddarack   

Speaking of Shadrack:   A film that sees the complicated world issues of race, death and poverty through the eyes of a 10 year old.  As MacDowell says, "I wouldn't call it an art film.  It's just a beautiful little movie that's going to have to compete with the blockbusters pretty much by word of mouth.  Hope it gets a big mouth.

--I don't think it got a big mouth at the theater  but it got my mouth.   Macrina

Saturday, September 15, 2012

My Words Come Back To Haunt Me

It was September 13th of this year and I was in somewhat of a blue funk.  Don't ask me exactly  what that is but it just sounds like somewhere one would rather not be.   One of my sisters in community made a suggestion.  She said, "Why don't you check out the reflection you wrote for today in the Living Faith Publication."  I decided to take a look as I hadn't gotten around to reading it yet.   It was a reflection on Luke  6: 27-38 and I had focused on this text:

...Love your enemies...
...pray for those who mistreat you.

All I can say is that after reading it I thought:  SOMETIMES YOUR OWN WORDS COME BACK TO HAUNT YOU.   Here is my reflection:

In reading our gospel for today you may be tempted to ask, “Is this good news?”   Who among us knows how to love with such generosity?   This kind of loving requires a bigheartedness that you probably think you don’t own.   This is precisely where you are into flawed thinking.  You already possess this Christ-like love though it may be  dormant from underuse    We probably all have a tendency to wonder why we should  waste our love on enemies.  Yet love is never wasted.   Difficult as it is, our squandered  love may be a bandage for someone’s tormented soul. 

To help you with this difficult assignment I am giving you a new name.  It is actually a name Jesus gave to you. Your new name is ‘be merciful’.  Thus as you continue reflecting on Jesus’ poignant  yet somewhat distressing mandate to love your enemies, let your new name wash over you like a cleansing antibiotic.   Imagine being freed from harmful toxins in your body simply because you are loving when it isn’t easy.  [My P.S. to this is that living in community isn't always easy]  But it's good!  ...and by the way, no one was really mistreating me!

Incidentally, reflecting on community living I chose the photo above (borrowed from the web) because the birds on the line remind me of community.  There can be support in togetherness.  However, if you look further down on the branch you will see a little frozen loner.  I've been meditating on that loner.   The trick seems to be knowing how to juggle solitude and community.  Thus knowing when to join the group is wisdom.  And knowing when to step out of the group for awhile is also wisdom.


...and don't forget to be merciful
to yourself and to others.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Put yourself on the path of BLESSING

From early Christian time the first hour of the day has been given over to praise.  A spirit of joy permeates this hour.  All is new and fresh.  Light is beginning to encompass the darkness.  We are summoned from sleep, called to wakefulness, invited to behold the face of the dawning day.  This is the hour of  resurrection. The very act of rising from sleep is our first antiphon.  The lamp of life within us has been restored through the goodness of sleep.  With our lamp lit we go forth to give praise for the new day:

As new light streams out of the darkness, we open wide our hearts
to the healing light of your Encircling Presence.
Open our eyes to the opportunities this day has to offer.
Surprise us with small joys and pieces of beauty 
scattered through the hours.
O Beautiful Presence, help us this day
to taste the joy of being awake.
May this simple prayer come true in our lives today.

--taken from my book, Seven Sacred Pauses

This lovely image of St Benedict blessing the morning was taken at St. Benedict's Center in Schuyler, Nebraska  the weekend of September 7-8, 2012.  About 95 retreatants were fortunate enough to step into the path of blessing.  It was a weekend in which we considered how to live more mindfully.  As I move away from that sacred space into other sacred spaces I  continue to ponder just how (each day) to put myself on the path of blessing.    I invite you to do the same.  The blessings are always present.  Mindfulness is the key. You are invited to notice that everything is blessing you.  All you do is put yourself on the path:  the trees, the plants and flowers, the great sky above you and the earth below,  the lakes, streams and oceans, your joys and sorrows,  your creativity, your moments of gratitude, your doubts and your deep faith,  the people you love and the people whom you find it difficult to love, your hours of work, your hours of leisure!  All is blessing!   Put yourself on the path--the path of blessing.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Being There

If you find yourself sitting on the edge of your chair and you're not going anywhere it is time to move to your prayer cushion.  I do this all too often.  Call it what you will: stress, preoccupation, anxiety, tenseness, obsession, over-commitment, anxiety, a distracted life...whatever...  When I discover myself sitting on the edge of the chair I know immediately that I'm not at home in this moment.  I'm not relaxed and so, not mindful.  The edge of the chair means I'm not present.  The edge of the chair means I'm kind of nowhere!   
When I find myself sitting on the edge of the chair
 I try to make a change. I've discovered 
that moving away from that unhealthy position 
works wonders for me.
When I return to my project 
it is amazing how much calmer I feel
and how much more presence
 I'm able to bring to the tasks at hand.

So where do I go when I awaken to my lost presence?
Sometimes I move to another chair, 
to a sacred space of prayer, 
or to a window that opens to the earth world.

e.g.  Look at the object below: 
a small green leaf resting on a stone!
Immediately I sense a place of peace within.
Just my simple gaze at this restful image
can restore some kind of normality in me.
I am reminded that deep within is a little altar
where I can place the things that give me anxiety.
The leaf {metaphorically speaking} is my life.

If there is a labyrinth nearby, 
I might walk that sacred journey
bringing to the center my restless inattentiveness.
Movement helps awaken all within me that has
forgotten who I am and what I am about. 

Sometimes I move to a small chapel 
or to a darkened room.
I light a candle and listen with ear of my heart.
It is not the candle that makes God present
but in the quiet I am able to experience
 the One who is always present. 

Or, perhaps, depending on how much time I have, 
I might go outside and find a restful place to just BE.
I ask my thoughts to wait in the wings of my life.
I put my mind to rest.
I abide, dwell, linger, rest, breathe.

It is so simple and so difficult.
The most difficult part is the discipline
to momentarily step away from my distracted life
and obey a deeper, inner presence.

"Silence is like a river of grace inviting us to leap unafraid into its beckoning depths.  It is dark and mysterious in the waters of grace.  Yet in the silent darkness we are given new eyes.  In the heart of the divine we can see more clearly who we are.  We are renewed and cleansed in this river of silence."   -Macrina from Seven Sacred Pauses

Monday, July 9, 2012

sycamore wounds

The storms come.  They never ask, just come--bringing their wild and wondrous winds.  And sometimes they take what I wish they would leave.  A few weeks ago the strong winds took another limb out of my Sycamore Tree.  Yesterday Gene pulled the fallen limb from the tree.  I sat beside the tree's relic this morning and thought about how much I have loved this tree. Soon the fallen branch  will be shredded for mulch.  It will keep on giving. 
In spite of all it has been through the Sycamore tree looks lovely in the summer.  Its huge, lush green leaves hide the wounds, and as for wounds, it has had its share. When winter comes that's another story.  Its jagged broken branches, its wounds and scars are so obvious when the leaves are gone.
 There are times when I am momentarily tempted to carry the cedar swing across the campus to the huge Sycamore tree near our labyrinth that seems to  have weathered the storms better.

  Of course I change my mind quickly because you see I am married to this tree.  I will stay with it through the storms just as I would hope to stay with all the beautiful people who pass through my life---through thick and thin, joys and sorrows, good seasons and harsh seasons.
In the process of writing about the broken limbs a friend sent me a poem that I cannot refrain from sharing.

Tree Marriage
By William Meredith
In Chota Magpur and Bengal
The betrothed are tied with threads to
mango trees, they marry the trees
as well as one another, and
the two trees marry each other.
Could we do that some time with oaks,
or beeches?  This gossamer we
hold each other with, this web
of love and habit is not enough.
In mistrust of heavier ties,
I would like the tree-siblings for us,
standing together somewhere, two
trees married with us, lightly, their
fingers barely touching in sleep,
our threads invisible but holding.
“Tree Marriage” by William Merdith,
From Effort at Speech.  ©Northwestern University Press, 1997

I very much like the suggestion that we hold each other by a thread, lightly.  It means that we do not cling and clutch, demand and bind, grasp and control.   We honor the truth that we are connected and it is a connection that respects one another.  How much we can learn from the trees.  Like them, we go on giving even after we die.

Find a tree to marry~~~
~~or maybe  you already have one.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

Peace for our land and for yours!

To wish you peace this day I offer you
Stephen Mitchell's version of Psalm 121

I look deep into my heart,
to the core where wisdom arises.

Wisdom comes from the Unnamable
and unifies heaven and earth.
The Unnamable is always with you,
shining from the depths of your heart.
His peace will keep you untroubled
even in the greatest pain.
When you find him present within you,
you find truth at every moment.
He will guard you from all wrongdoing;
he will guide your feet on his path.
He will temper your youth with patience;
he will crown your old age with fulfillment.
And dying, you will leave your body
as effortlessly as a sigh.

From A Book of Psalms, trans, and adapted by Stephen Mitchell



Wednesday, June 20, 2012

A Bouquet of Good Intentions

My community retreat is  now over and for some unknown reason I spent a good portion of the retreat praying about all of my GOOD INTENTIONS.  I don't know who came up with that silly saying, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions."  It isn't true!  Why do we so often think about things in negative terms?  We could just as easily say that the road to heaven is paved with the seeds of good intentions.  Seeds take time to germinate.   The seeds we plant in the earth require a time of waiting before they are able to blossom. Likewise, the good intentions that fall into our hearts may not blossom immediately (for many reasons).  This does not mean we should forget them

Obviously these good intentions have come from God whose name can be found in the word, good.  Just because they were given to me and yet remain unfulfilled does not mean they are dead intentions.  They are still good.  So let's ponder together some of our good intentions.  In the midst of our busy lives they visit us like guardian angels. If we have not adequately brought these good intentions to fruition today, there is always tomorrow or the next day, or even the next month or two.  They have come to us for a reason and we are the ones who can help them to blossom.

Today I am making a bouquet of my good intentions. I will print them out and put them on my bulletin board as a reminder that it is never too late to bring them to birth.  

  • Write a real letter to someone in my address book.
  • Go for an early morning walk at least once a week.
  • Devise a regular schedule for writing..
  • Visit Jackie.
  • Send a card of support to our spiritual directors.
  • Call Mary soon.
  • Affirm someone every day.
  • Work in the soup kitchen once in awhile
  • Visit our Sisters in the infirmary at least once a week.
  • Write on my blog at least once a week.
  • Design an 'on-line' retreat experience.
  • Listen to others with my very best presence.

Spend some time with your Good Intentions.

Thursday, May 31, 2012



So many of us are driven, 
rushing, running, fretting, stewing, 
pacing, pacing, pacing, pacing!

I am offering all of us (myself included)  some gifts.
Let's take them like vitamins.

Learn to ABIDE:
  • Linger
  • Remain
  • Breathe
  • Rest
  • Be
  • Dwell
  • Stay
  • Be Silent
Immerse yourself 
in something greater than yourself.

Inhabit each space a little longer.  
Be there with real presence.
Create a "sacro speco"for yourself
and then enjoy that SACRED SPACE.

Thank you for taking time 
to care for yourself and others.

Monday, May 21, 2012

Mashed Potatoes

I'm terribly behind on my blog, or am I?  When one is doing something just for writing practice or for fun, or just because you want to, is it possible to get behind?  Some of my friends seem to think so.  Repeatedly friends have been asking me, "are you returning?"  "Where have you gone?  they asked.  "Are  you stewing about a proper subject matter on which to expound?" one of them asked.   "Oh, just write about mashed potatoes for about five minutes," someone suggested.   I shared that with someone who was on a weekend retreat here at St. Scholastica last weekend.  She happened to be a pun-er  and her response was, "Oh you should be able to whip that out in no time."

So mashed potatoes it is!  Actually mashed potatoes is a very vivid memory from childhood.  Sunday dinner:  Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans and homemade ice-cream!  Mountains of mashed potatoes we seemed to have even when times were tough.  But I must go back yet further to the origin of their birth out in the field, at the edge of the deep woods.

The planting came first.  Earth freshly plowed, I walked along the rows dropping pieces of potatoes.  My young friend, Opal, had explained to me, "You must leave an eye on every piece of potato you plant.  It can't see how to grow without its eye."   Made sense to me!  But that was when I was still young and uncomplicated--not so very grown up and perhaps closer to the source of wisdom.  I would help cover the freshly planted potatoes -- earth all patted down over the pieces of potatoes I would dream of what they were seeing down there in the dark.

In the book, The Singing Creek where the Willows Grow,  the precocious child, Opal Whiteley, waxes eloquently about harvesting potatoes.  Quoting Opal, she says:

"When the potatoes were in piles, I did stop to take looks at them.  I walked up close; I looked them all over.  I walked off and took a long look at them.  Potatoes are very interesting folks.  I think they must see a lot of what is going on in the earth--they have so many eyes.  And after I did look those long looks as I did go along I did count the eyes that every potato did have and their numbers were in blessings."

After planting the potatoes the waiting began.  I forgot about them for awhile...when harvest time came we would plow them up and put them in piles according to sizes.    Although I didn't get quite as dramatic as Opal while digging for potatoes I, too, remember having conversations with them and sometimes I named them.

 Eventually they made it to the cellar. I was sent to the cellar when it was time to make mashed potatoes.  Carefully I chose the potatoes, washed, peeled and cooked them with a little seasoning.  And then the mashing began.  I used one those old fashioned smashers since we didn't own an electric  mixer back in those days.   Sometimes (if no one was looking) I would more or less attack the potatoes kind of like Sam did in the movie Bennie and Joon.  (In this movie Sam was a very young version of Johnny Depp)  This took the edge off the work and made it rather enjoyable.

The end of this story is a very good memory of our family sitting around the old wooden table having dinner, the mashed potatoes with a little dill sprinkled on the top was a very important part of the menu.

So many memories came to me as I reflected on mashed potatoes.  Those were good times and hard times and I still believe that working together to put a meal on the table is more fun than going to a restaurant; but that is only when everyone works together.

And what about you?  
What do you remember about mashed potatoes?

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

God in an Apron

Try to imagine this scene.  You are  sitting at the table with Jesus and his friends on the night before he died.  A confusing sorrow overshadows you; yet, a mysterious hope has settled in your heart.  Suddenly, Jesus is standing in front of you.  He looks into your eyes and immediately you are filled with an awareness of your tremendous worth.
Supper was special that night
There was both a heaviness and a holiness
hanging in the air
We couldn't explain the mood
It was sacred, yet sorrowful.
Gathered around that table
eating that solemn, holy meal
seemed to us the most important meal
we had ever sat down to eat.

We were dwelling in the heart of mystery
though dark the night
Hope felt right
as if something evil
was about to be conquered.

And then suddenly
the One we loved startled us all
He got up from the table
and put on an apron.
Can you imagine how we felt?

God in an apron!

Tenderness encircled us
as he bowed before us.
He knelt and said,
"I choose to wash your feet
because I love you."

God in an apron, kneeling
I couldn't believe my eyes.
I was embarrassed
until his eyes met mine
I sensed my value then.

He touched my feet
He held them in his strong brown hands
He washed them.

I can still feel the water
I can still feel the touch of his hands.
I can still see the look in his eyes.

Then he handed me the towel and said,
"As I have done so you must do."
Learn to bow ~~ Learn to kneel.

Let your tenderness encircle
everyone you meet
Wash their feet
not because you have  to,
because you want to.

It seems I've stood two thousand years
holding the towel in my hands,
"As I have done so you must do,"
keeps echoing in my heart.

"There are so many feet to wash,"
I keep saying
"No," I hear God's voice
resounding through the years
"There are only my feet
What you do for them
you do for me."

by Macrina Wiederkehr
taken from Seasons of Your Heart

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

I Anoint You With Joy

We have been explicitly asked to perform our Lenten observances with  joy and so I would like to introduce you to Stella with hopes that you will be anointed by that joyful look on her face.  Stella lives at Crystal Bridges in Arkansas and can be found outside the museum on the art path.  I trust you will make plans to visit her soon.   I'm very much aware that she doesn't look as though she has been fasting during Lent.  Actually she portrays the metaphor of abundance, and that is what I wish for you during this holy season.  About mid-way through Lent I always find myself longing for a double portion of discipline to enhance my original desire to deepen my spiritual life...and so I would like to anoint you with spiritual gifts for our continued journey through this holy season.

I anoint you with an abundance of joy, faith and love.  I anoint you with courage, vision and hope.   I anoint you with compassion, trust and gentleness.

I anoint you with rocks and stones, blossoms of growth, sunsets and sunrises, the air and the wind, rivers and mountains, the morning, the evening and all of the hours of the day.  I anoint you with creation and of course with the Creator and the Spirit of Jesus.  I anoint you with Christ.  
Mt. Nebo Arkansas


Mt Harbor Resort Arkansas 

Port Phillips Bay near Melbourne Australia

Continue your Lenten Exercises
with an abundance of joy.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Mardi Gras

Today is known as Mardi Gras or Fat Tuesday.   Some like to think of it as a time of partying before the great fast of Lent; however many people who celebrate Mardi Gras see little religious significance to the day.  As for me, I believe our attitude about special seasons and our reflection on the event is really important.  I see nothing wrong with having a glass of wine or a special meal on the evening before Ash Wednesday.  The gift I long for, though, is moderation.  All is to be done with mindfulness and  joy.  Even the scriptures tell us not to look gloomy when we fast.  (Mt 6:16)

Because I live in a monastic community "Fat Tuesday" has also become for me a time to discern my Lenten resolutions.  How do I want to make this season a time of growth and renewal.  What would I like to add or subtract from my life?

In the Rule of St. Benedict, the chapter on Lent begins as follows,  "The life of a monk ought to be a continuous Lent.  Since few, however, have the strength for this, we urge the entire community during these days of Lent to keep its manner of life most pure and to wash away in this holy season the negligence of other times."

Before Lent begins we are asked to choose a spiritual book to use for reflection during this season.  Having recently been reminded that my new book, Abide: Keeping Vigil with the Word of God, would actually be a good book to use for the Lenten Season because it consists of 40 scriptural meditations,  I almost chose my own book.

However, as I continued my discernment I was drawn to Meg Funk's book,  Lectio Matters:  Before the Burning Bush.  I would like for this season to be a deepening of my love for this ancient monastic prayer that is thankfully being restored in our monasteries and beyond.  

In a sense, Lent is a standing before the burning bush of transformation and renewal.  I would like to be caught up in the fire.   And so tonight at our Mardi Gras Party I will don my mask and in the midst of the fun will also use the moment to ponder who I really am under that mask.   


Monday, February 13, 2012

The window's gifts

Each day we receive valentines from the Source of all Life.  
This morning, on the vigil of Valentines Day,  I went to the window 
to check out my new valentines.
They were waiting for my grateful presence:

a snow covered branch
a leaf clinging to the ledge of the window
a woman walking her dog
the dance of the tree branches
the glistening silver sky
the new day.

And of course 
there are other windows 
and other days
always offering valentines.
So let's receive! 

It's a good practice,
a lovely morning ritual 
for almost any day.

The valentine Pooh Bear, Piglet and I 
would like to give you
is the gift of today
No matter what the weather,
receive today.

“What day is it,?" asked Pooh.
"It's today," squealed Piglet.
"My favorite day," said Pooh.”

Friday, February 10, 2012

Claim the beauty of the Night

Dear God,

We give thanks for the darkness of the night where lies  the world of dreams.
Guide us closer to our dreams so that we may be nourished by them.
Give us good dreams and memory of them so that we may carry 
their poetry and mystery into our daily lives.
Grant us deep and restful sleep that we may wake
refreshed with strength enough to renew a world grown tired.

We give thanks for the inspiration of stars, 
the dignity of the moon
and the lullabies of crickets and frogs.
Let us restore the night and reclaim it as a sanctuary of peace, 
where silence shall be music to our hearts
and darkness shall throw  light upon our souls.
Good Night.  Amen.

--Michael Leunig, A Common Prayer Book
Collins Dove 1990

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Wild and Beautiful

I love the word delight, meaning ‘of the light’ or, ‘that which gives forth light’.  One “delight” of my trip to Australia was getting to see the little penguins on Philip Island, about 90 minutes from Melbourne.  Philip Island is home to one of the largest little penguin colonies in the world.

At sunset these wild little creatures rise up out of the sea where they have been fishing during the day.  Because they are so small they need to be cautious about predators; for this reason they wait until dusk to return to their nesting places in the dunes above the ocean shore.  At dusk people gather on bleachers to await the arrival of the little penguins.  We were asked to wait in silence.  We were also asked not to take photos.  (the photos used here are borrowed from online sites)  At first I was annoyed that I couldn't photograph but I soon saw the wisdom of this. Constant photographing, even without flash, can be such a distraction and something is lost from the profound experience of being in the NOW. Thus sitting in silence, waiting for the little penguins became a spiritual experience.  It was especially moving to see so many people being quiet together and I thought of how often I ask people in the retreats I lead to just wait in silence…to wait for whatever might rise up in their soul during the waiting time.  As I sat on the bleachers waiting, I was filled with a spirit of wonder.  It was a kind of theophany to sit in silence with strangers, yet knowing that in many ways we were kin: hearts full of delight, joy, grief, sorrow, love, confusion, hearts probably filled with more questions than answers.  All waiting for something wild and beautiful to rise up out of the sea!
Then suddenly we saw the first group of penguins gathering at the seashore.   Huddled in a small group of about 15 or 20, they cautiously waddled across the beach.  Then all my stranger-friends appeared to be delighted.   For about 45 minutes in different intervals of time and numbers they came in little processions.   

And you, whoever you are, 
spend a little time waiting today.  
Wait for something wild and beautiful 
to rise up out of your soul.