intimacy with God. Whether we feel it, know it, trust it, or even believe it, my life seems to be built upon a yearning to awaken an awareness of this intimacy in myself and others. Not to manipulate another nor demand any dogmatic uniformity. That kills the Spirit - and Jesus said in St. John's gospel that the Spirit blows where it will. We have no control to which is say: Thanks be to God!
Truth be told, the further I move away from my institutional loyalties, the closer I sense the possibilities for discerning and then living into the presence of the divine in my ordinary life. Talk about paradox! And yet, without the constraints and demands of living as a public clergy person, I have felt free to be fully alive in each moment: listening for and honoring the holy wherever it shows up gives me the chance to give voice to a shared blessing - and this often happens in the most unlikely and unexpected places. In this, it becomes clear, that the whole of creation cries glory.
To live a spiritual life we must first find the courage to enter into the desert of our loneliness and to change it by gentle and persistent efforts into a garden of solitude. This requires not only courage but also a strong faith. As hard as it is to believe that the dry desolate desert can yield endless varieties of flowers, it is equally hard to imagine that our loneliness is hiding unknown beauty. The movement from loneliness to solitude, however, is the beginning of any spiritual life because it is a movement from the restless senses to the restful spirit, from the outward-reaching cravings to the inward-reaching search, from the fearful clinging to the fearless play.
It seems I was letting this truth drift through my thoughts last night before I went to sleep. They showed up a few hours later when, as has become a regular event, I awoke 90 minutes later. Most of the time when this happens I smile inwardly. Sure I get annoyed at other times, too, but mostly it has become 45 minutes of reading and thinking - and sometimes prayer. Last night, what kept going through my head is how valuable it is for me to name the encounter with the sacred. Those experiences are soul food for me - and I think for others, too - for when we know we are being blessed, a deeper sense of awe takes root within us. Little things take on greater significance. Passing insights hold the potential for deeper wisdom. And the presence of joy or sorrow - strength or fragility - asks us to take nothing for granted. Not a blue sky, a snow storm, a heartbreak, a smile, a tear, or a dog who wants to sit on your lap. The whole of creation cries glory.
Imagine my delight when I watched the following video: it comes from the Henri Nouwen Society's celebration of Henri's birthday 25 years after his death. My friends at L'Arche Ottawa told me I would love it - and they were right. Especially the part where Henri is reborn as a clown on his 60th birthday. And the closing clip about the importance of celebrating Eucharist. Clowning and communion are vital to me, too - not only as discrete spiritual encounters - but more as ways of seeing reality and God's presence therein.
Today looks like it will be given over to some ordinary tasks: minor shopping errands, a bit of house cleaning, closing the day with a light supper and a gentle TV program or two. This quote from one of Nouwen's reflection rings true to me today.
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