The Music of Angels

"Music is the divine way to tell beautiful, poetic things to the heart." 

~ Pablo Casals

This is truly the music of angels.

No more words can convey it.

Compassion for the Struggling on April 1, 2020

“Extreme poverty anywhere is a threat to human security everywhere.” 
~ Kofi Annan

Anyone who has experienced or witnessed a jarring total loss of resources, whether over time or suddenly, no matter how it has occurred, knows just how challenging this is for the human spirit.  It impacts everything, including a person's health, particularly if it persists.  It impacts families.  It impacts neighborhoods.   It impacts civilizations.  It impacts the entire world.

My heart is with those today who find themselves suddenly without the ability to pay their basic bills, including those who have managed to do so all of their lives, and jarringly find themselves in a truly horrendous situation. Even with a little help, once people are placed in this situation, it can be astonishingly difficult to catch up.  It does not diminish our compassion for those who are ill or whose health is vulnerable to be expanding our consideration to everyone whose health and well-being are in jeopardy.  This is what it means to be balanced, thoughtful and wise.  And nobody is saying the entirety of the situation we face is easy to address.

 

Migrant Mother, 1936 (Public Domain)

If you haven't lived it, if you think your bank or credit card accounts have more than enough to cover your needs, if you feel you securely have a roof over your heads and are staying in place in relative comfort, perhaps it is difficult to conceive just how jarring this feels to your neighbors.  I have repeated that word "jarring" three times so far, and there's a reason.  It can shake a person down to one's foundations, like an earthquake.  A spiritual path is helpful, for sure, in these times, but please let's not forget the people who are genuinely and very suddenly struggling, or those who have struggled for a long time, and now things are far worse.

And as to our path forward, sociologists and historians know just how important it is to be balanced in what comes next.  Unfortunately, they haven't apparently been consulted already in the decisions being made.  It is not lacking compassion to be seriously thinking about all of the devastating impacts of what is happening, both short and long term. 

Where will expansive compassion, far-seeing wisdom and true courage lead?  We have much to be reflecting upon, and the answers aren't simple.  Fear can push and it can prod, but it rarely holds the answers we really need to see.  Strictly "clinical" or isolated quantitative observation may tell us a few things, but tunnel vision is blind.  We need balance and deeply thoughtful direction and we need it soon.

Golden Leaves in July

“Live in each season as it passes; breathe the air, drink the drink, taste the fruit, and resign yourself to the influence of the earth.” ~ Henry David Thoreau

Perhaps it's because of the recent heat.  Perhaps not.  But I've been noticing golden leaves on my walks in July.  They cannot hide themselves well amid the greens of high summer.

Despite their apparent juxtaposition, they inevitably lead me to reflect upon some things  Do we appreciate our current season any less when we notice the signs of the next?  Or do both feel sweeter, somehow?

Water Flowing Everywhere

"It is life, I think, to watch the water. A man can learn so many things.” 

~ Nicholas Sparks

Lately, and continually, I've been noticing water.  This is one of those new and very old things, but it's new every day when we choose to see it that way.

There are dramatic ways of looking at water, of course, expansive ways.  The ocean.

 

Yet what captured my attention just the other day while walking?  Water flowing in the gutters in the street. 

And suddenly I more fully remembered the child I once was (and still am, when I remember), how captivated I was by such a readily approachable thing as watching gutter water flow.  At times I would do something to divert the water's direction, then pause attentively, observe.  I was occasionally more entertained by the gutters around our home than with any number of toys, though I liked toys too.  This was my childhood.  And I remember.

Now when I look upon the water, and this is what I noticed the other day, I reflect upon the Flow.  I reflect upon how it is truthfully possible to discover hidden beauty in the simplest and most humble  of diverse ways.  But we must open our eyes and choose to look.  I'm happy I remember.

Our Vitality Accounts

“I wish, as well as everybody else, to be perfectly happy; but, like everybody else, it must be in my own way.” ~ Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility

It may seem obvious, and perhaps we may discover that we are reminding ourselves regularly (which is definitely better than no reminders at all).

No matter how busy we find ourselves to be, or how busy we expect ourselves to be (which are actually two different measurements), if we aren't investing daily in our "vitality accounts", all of our efforts, imagined, demanded, expected, or otherwise, are greatly diminished.

While out walking just now, in a Beautiful place, after realizing I needed to act on the reminder, as I've done quite often these days, I remembered the obvious.  And this is not just something we must continually give to ourselves - it is something we must continually accommodate in our expectations of others.  Vitality investment comes first.  It enhances the worth of everything else, and it lingers. 

Some day, perhaps, if we choose to be courageous, we will co-create a world in which living and working in this way are the norm and not the exception.

Flight, in Stillness and in Motion

"For I would ride with you upon the wind,
Run on the top of the dishevelled tide,
And dance upon the mountains like a flame"

~ W.B. Yeats

It is windy today.  It has been windy, lately.  It comes and it goes and is noticeable.

In the midst of a rather reflective afternoon, I had taken off my glasses, reflecting.  And then even without glasses, I saw them, outside my window.  I put my glasses on quickly and thought I might capture them.  They had flown in, all together, and landed.

And then as quickly as they arrived, with another gust of the wind, they took flight!  All together.

Raking at Dusk

"I have since only very rarely seen the tree with the lights in it. The vision comes and goes, mostly goes, but I live for it..." ~ Annie Dillard

Raking at dusk, somehow a brilliant white feather appeared under the leaves, reminiscent of eagles and angels.  The flash of the camera captured it, seemingly all by itself.  I rarely use the flash.

It was cold.  It was windy.  Rain was attempting to begin.  It reminded me of Illinois in November.

It was perfect.