Still Listening

You may remember a few posts ago I wrote about my listening tree, the tree with ears that I discovered on our monastery grounds. It became one of my sacred sites and when I could find the time I went there to listen. Sadly, two days after I shared 'my listening tree' with you the storms came with their raging winds and fierce lightning and split my dear tree wide open. I was away from home and one of our Sisters e-mailed me with this dreadful message.

Is it right, I thought, for me to be mourning a tree when people have lost lives and homes? Yes, when you've loved something and named it, it is yours in a special way. All mourning is to be honored.

A friend shared with me this poem by Charles Mungoshi. In a way it a ritual for mourning. A ritual for surrendering and receiving again. It tells me what to do--

WHAT TO DO

Take out all your belongings--

Furniture, clothes, crockery--

All you have since held dear

Take them all out

And return them to the forest.

Now, bring in the sky

The mountains, distant views

Of anything, the rivers, trees,

Boulders; the animals, birds

And insects--

Set them loose in your room.

Now--

Kneel down anywhere

And give thanks.

-Charles Mungoshi

from The Milkman Doesn't Only Deliver Milk

Baobab Books, Harare, 1998

And so I kneel before the remains of my tree giving thanks for everything and I wonder: In spite of its very wounded state, is it still listening.

THE LISTENING TREE

The Listening Tree

We have a listening tree on our monastery grounds. I discovered it in March when the spring leaves were returning and I've been holding regular visitations with it since then. If you look closely at the tree you will see an ear. This tree has an ear; actually it has a lot of ears. The ears of course are actually scars (places where it has been pruned to keep it alive) and that in itself has provided much reflection for me. Perhaps the same ordeal happens in our own lives and out of the places where we have been scarred we learn to listen. Maybe we are all Listening Trees. Rooted in the things that really matter! Maybe we need to learn to pay attention to our scars which may really be ears so that we can discover our deep listening qualities.

Recently I listened to someone read a poem by Rumi. Although I can't recall the exact words the poet was saying that he would like to sell his tongue and buy more ears. Me too!

I think I met a human Listening Tree the other day--well, not in person but I attended a panel discussion: The pathways to non-violence in Fayetteville AR. On the panel were the Dalai Lama, Sister Helen Prejean and Vincent Harding. The moderator asked how (after violent incidents such as when the children were killed by a bombing in Birmingham, AL in the 60's) one learns not to surrender to hate. Vincent answered with words I would like to tatoo on my arm (if I was into tatooing) He said something like this: You are so full of your dream there is no room for hate. You are full of 'the possibility of what could be.' That is what takes over your life.


When that happens to us we become LISTENING TREES. We even learn to listen to love in the people who hate....the love they can't see, perhaps because they haven't learned to listen to their scars.

Have a good day out there wherever you are! Become Listening Trees. Be so full of your dream of a non-violent world that there is no room for hate.

September’s 3rd gift

Listen to your Loneliness

—Listen to the Silence

I am watching myself live more and more these days which, at times, gives me considerable concern and at other times evokes much enjoyment. It is all part of my evolving call to live more mindfully. This morning during one of my moments of pacing as opposed to centering, I suddenly heard the voice of a character in one of Linda Hogan’s novels saying: “I think people talk because what lives inside silence scares them.” She may be right. Even I, who write so much about silence find myself, at times, fearing the core of silence. What lives inside silence scares me. What lives inside silence is the terrible beauty of being alone with the Alone. What lives inside silence is the challenge of nada, nothing but being—pure being. That sweet eternal darkness that has no voice—the beauty of someone Divine holding me. Can I bear the mystery of being alone with the One who is all-one? What lives inside silence is the Great Loneliness. Many of us fear the loneliness. Oh! Anything to smother the loneliness: surf the web or the TV channels, collect friends on facebook, call someone on the phone, have three more cups of coffee, clean out a closet, text someone to tell them the sun is out or you’re eating deep fried onion rings (or something else that they really don’t need to know). All those things are fine. They aren’t evil; they can even be fun. But you know what? Sometimes they get in the way of transformation. They get in the way of spiritual growth.

There are some who move beyond their fears and find inside the silence, an immense peace. On some days I experience this peace but there are times when I still surrender to the fear.

September’s third gift is to find grace in loneliness,

immense peace in silence.