Eirenicole (m4a Feed)

Guitar and music by Robbie Green

Uncertainty. Uncertainty is the bane of decision-making. And if one could distill the job description of leadership into one phrase, it would be: to make decisions –

How to move forward; how to reframe; what perspective to take; what will administer the greatest good to the most people…

Uncertainty is the distillation of our current reality. And it is made all the more distressing (and perilous) by the talking heads (tweeting thumbs) – even experts – declaring so-called facts that rarely, if ever, substantiate one another.

How are leaders meant to lead with so little to go on?

And how do we do this alongside our coleaders – and in the same direction?

How do we lead together in the same direction in unity of spirit?

And do so, under such conditions, paving the path with peace?

If this global pandemic has taught us anything, it is that we can never really be certain about the future. Not on this side of glory, anyway.

Except when we can.

We can be certain that whichever direction in which we go, God is walking with us.

We can know that the Spirit of our Living God is in me, and in you – the same Spirit. One God.

We can trust that the One through Whom all things were made, made us creative beings, and that we have the capacity to bring creative light and life to the way forward.

And we can do this with unity – together.

When we acknowledge God’s presence. When we notice the Spirit in one another. When I trust that your creative ideas do not threaten my own – because we draw from the same Source – and look to see that, perhaps, your ideas can augment my own. And wow, their inspirations color in the spaces, making it beautiful. And wait, whose idea was this?

Oh, yeah: all of ours.

We know from neuroscience (and experience) that isolation makes the brain mushy. It is much more difficult to be creative, inspired, when our routines are blurry, the location static. Depression lurks, despair approaches, and the fight or flight instincts begin to seep through into Zoom meetings, phone calls, and the dog who seems to be in the exact spot where I am trying to walk. At every turn!

Those for whom we are given to care and lead are just as uncertain, with brains of mush – and are fairly dying of thirst for touch, community-in-the-flesh. And they clamor along with us to break free from this isolation – while fearful of infection, or infecting a grandparent or neighbor.

Our instinct as leaders is to respond. To respond with a practical, decisive – certain – plan of action. To respond with facts and explanations and inspirational wisdom with which to proceed.

But if we understanding anything about instinct, it is that instinct is not wisdom. It will often save us if we are mortally threatened. But it is usually out of a visceral, unreasoned impulse – uninformed, un-contemplative,

Deprived of acknowledging God’s presence.

Deprived of noticing the Spirit in one another.

Deprived of that deep breath of trust that the Creator is creating in and through you, in and through me, in and through our parishioners.  

I love this reflection from Richard Rohr:

The secret to community lies in the way we let other people get through to us and the way we move out of ourselves. This is, of course, the mystery of spirituality, of vulnerability, and powerlessness. When a person on a serious inner journey to their own vulnerability is also in immediate contact with the vulnerable of the world, then some form of community will almost always result.

Without an interior life and a love of justice, most communities just serve themselves.

How do we lead in a way that is not just serving ourselves or that only of our community?

We do it when . . .

When we acknowledge God’s presence in the very center of this uncertain situation.

When we notice the Spirit in one another and help each other see that same Spirit in still others.

When we trust that your creative ideas do not threaten my own – because we draw from the same Source – and look to see that, perhaps, your ideas can augment my own. And build on them together.

Hold our ideas loosely – because they are not complete if they are not created – creating – in community.

So perhaps we begin with a prayer of lovingkindness. Three deep, cleansing breath-prayers that help to reset the nervous system.

May I be here. Present. Now.

May I say yes to silence. Listen. Notice.

May I let go. Open hand, held loosely. Holy indifference.

And because I am experiencing freedom from anxious grasping, I pray loving kindness over you:

May you be here. Present. Now.

May you say yes to silence. Listen. Notice.

May you let go. Open hand, held loosely. Holy indifference

And because we cannot lead creatively, the fullness of illumination, unless we collaborate (not just sharing ideas, rather, incorporating the good from all, leaving the unimportant from our own) We pray for our leadership:

May we be here. Present. Now.

May we say yes to silence. Listen. Notice.

May we let go. Open hand, held loosely. Holy indifference

So now, with opening hearts, opening minds, opening doors to our sacred temples – the Body of Christ – may we notice the glorious kaleidoscope of color in the spaces that bring our collective mission, this voyage into the unknown – together.

And may we walk ahead together, paving the path with peace, and at the pace of grace.

The post Leading Out of the Darkness – Together appeared first on Eirenicole.

For Lent, we have been using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, Holy Week, the theme is Love. Our meditation for Holy Saturday is entitled, “Radiant Expectation,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Easter Saturday, 2010, Mark Cazalet. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google, Easter Saturday, 2010, Mark Cazalet.”

No one has greater love than is this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. (Jn15.13) Last night we recognized Jesus’ final words, It is finished, and handing over the Holy Spirit. Today, Jesus occupies some mysterious space that is separate from God’s own self.

For today’s meditation, take a few moments to slow your breathing

Inhale through your nose, noticing your chest expand;

exhale through your mouth, pressing your belly in just a bit further.

Sit with this in space between death and resurrection.

What, in your soul, seems to be still, dead, ready to be raised again? Given new life? Perhaps, something altogether new to grow?

Pay attention to your reactions.

Sit with these thoughts and notice them drawing to the center.

Breathe in the Spirit who prays when we have no words.

Breathe out the grief over these deaths.

Breathe in the hope of resurrection.

As you breathe out, surrender to trust that all will be made new, all will be well.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to bring your attention to Jesus, on this Holy Saturday.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“Easter Saturday, usually called Holy Saturday, can seem to be a non-day …. in the presence of something greater than we can see.”

On this Holy Saturday, our Creed reminds us that Jesus ‘descended into hell.’ And what we understand to be hell cannot be adequately described, because it indicates that those who occupy it, are outside God’s presence.

Yet, we are told by the psalmist (Ps139) that there is no where we can go that God’s love cannot reach. Before Jesus pierced space-time to walk the earth.

So it must be something that occurs on my end. Because, to God, Love’s reach is infinite.

These works of art are immeasurably helpful – creative means that stimulate creative perspective; imaginative, inventive,

create – ing,

new.

Jesus handed over the Holy Spirit, skeletal, bereft of the body,

so Christ’s flesh could enter this mysterious space that is separate from God’s own self –

to fill it, occupy it, redeem even that so-called place where God allegedly could not go, all so that we might know

no such place exists.

On this Holy Saturday, after walking with Jesus through lent and then through this most Holy Week, we pause

the wait almost over

crowning at this rebirth

anticipating the promise, an oath, a contract with the Creator of all that exists

new life

that is, fullness of life: To live a life permeated by the presence of Jesus

who fills all of the spaces – and in between places

so that we might know there is nowhere God’s Love cannot go

and truly, feely, shamelessly live.

May you abandon yourself to the knowledge that God’s love reaches every bit of you, and may you live this day at the pace of creative, create – ing grace!

The post Radiant Expectation appeared first on Eirenicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, Holy Week, the theme is Love. Our meditation for Good Friday is entitled, “Passionate Sacrifice,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Crucifixion, 2008, Craigie Aitchison. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “Crucifixion, 2008, Craigie Aitchison.”

How can Good Friday instruct us in this isolation of a lockdown? Jesus’ spoke the final words, It is finished, bowed his head and gave up his spirit. This can also be translated, He handed over the Holy Spirit.

For today’s meditation, take a few moments to slow your breathing

Inhale through your nose, noticing the coolness draw inward;

exhale through your mouth, listen to the air pass between your lips.

Consider what it means that Jesus gave up his spirit – breath, ruah.

Jesus breathed out his last embodied breath into the very air we breathe.

How does this change the way in which you experience your breath?

Pay attention to your reaction.

Sit with these thoughts and notice them drawing to the center.

Breathe in the Spirit who knows our thoughts.

Breathe out the anxious thoughts that distract.

Breathe in acknowledgement of mystery.

As you breathe out, yield to unknowing.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to bring your attention to Jesus, on this Good Friday.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“In art, there are few crucifixions that stress the inner truth of Jesus’ death …. not what the crucifixion looked like, but what it truly meant.”

Jesus bowed his head and, said a different way, He handed over the Holy Spirit. For Aitchison, the Spirit is skeletal on first leaving Jesus’ body. Bereft of the flesh that was from God and was God, human flesh suffused by the Spirit of God – every cell, each atom, enlivening undetectable quarks –  

This sacred flesh that needed to do miraculous, mysterious work –

the work of saturating the earth with his blood and waters,

inhabiting the cold rock 3 days’ time,  

before reuniting, resurrected to wholeness again;

The Holy Spirit bereft of flesh, flesh we all inhabit, embody

This Spirit given away, handed over,

a betrayal of God’s very Self

an enigma, how are we to understand?! That God, Source of everything,

would tear out God’s own spirit, separate

only to enter that space that God could never go:

out of God’s own presence

for me?

For me – who daily, hourly, heck most moments, will choose to function

as if God is not present.

Jesus’ flesh, ablaze with the fire of Love,

set even the already burning stars on fire

The earth consuming, death absorbing, Jesus’ flesh disseminating

everything

even the air that I breathe. Now.

What does this day mean to you, for you?

May you choose presence this timeless space, Good Friday, and by grace, may you remain in the blaze of love’s fire.

The post Passionate Sacrifice appeared first on Eirenicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, Holy Week, the theme is Love. Our meditation for today is entitled, “No Greater Love,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, The Last Supper, 1497-98, Leonardo da Vinci. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “The Last Supper, 1497-98, Leonardo da Vinci.”

There is a phenomenon that Psychologists identified when observing effects of individuals in the isolation of a lockdown. Outside our usual routines, very little or no physical interaction, stimuli, the brain becomes exceptionally forgetful.

For today’s meditation, take a few moments to slow your breathing

Take 2 or 3 deep, cleansing breaths.

Allow the oxygen to activate, enliven the neuronal connections.

Notice your head space clearing. Attend your thoughts.

Sit with these thoughts and notice them drawing to the center.

Breathe in the Spirit who knows our thoughts.

Breathe out the anxious thoughts that cluttered.

Breathe in the truth that God remains with you.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of surrender.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to bring your attention to Jesus, on this Maundy Thursday.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“I find it sadly appropriate that the greatest of all Last Supper paintings …. yet the eucharistic gift is infinitely more mysterious.”

When we are not able to gather together and share in this gift of the eucharist, the truth we can know and experience is, indeed, “a mystical means of communion with his risen body.” That it is mysterious, that it is spiritual, that it is made possible by the death and redemption of embodiment itself, does seem to make an embodied communion with those filled with that same Spirit somehow possible.

An ever-fading painting by a brilliant inventor-artist is instructive, a metaphor? That curators must constantly tend the painting in order to preserve the substance,

ethereal while visible –

yet nearly imperceptible,

teaches us the care and skill it requires to preserve the relationship

communion;

Within the self

with the community, the communion of saints

with the Triune God of the seen and unseen.

We are offered this communion daily, each moment,

now.

We need only tend the scene, attend the relationship –

restore the embodied by curating mystery.

On this holy day, Maundy Thursday, may the Spirit infuse, permeate your body, your mind, your soul; and may you enter – be present to – the last supper moments with Jesus. And may you do so at the pace of grace.

The post No Greater Love appeared first on Eirenicole.

To be eirenic is to be aimed at peace, oriented toward reconciliation. As a centering prayer I have adopted the prayer attributed to St. Frances, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. So, that is why I call my website Eirenicole – a composite of eirenic and Nicole.

Listen to Jonas Oliver’s expression of how, to him, Love sounds.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, Holy Week, the theme is Love. Our meditation for today is entitled, “Forgetting Self,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Camille on her Deathbed, 1879, Claude Monet. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “Camille on her Deathbed, 1879, Claude Monet.”

As you shelter in place, welcome your space.

Notice your surroundings. How do you bring life to your constant space?

Notice how, when you breathe, the air has changed.

Can you taste spring on your tongue?

What is it about the character of the air that alerts you to spring?

Pay attention to the scents, the feel of the air. Allergies?

Sit with these sensations for a bit.

Breathe in a cleansing breath of the air that promises new life.

Breathe out gratitude for a new season.

Breathe in the truth that God transforms, redeems everything.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of surrender.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to saturate, to fill you with peace.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“It is extremely difficult to love unselfishly …. self-forgetfulness is the essence of true commitment.”

It is no easy thing to make such a commitment; in an era when decisions are made dependent on the number of likes on an event post, or who’s Instagrammed the gathering. And if a Tweet of something else happens, it’s always an option.

When we can send break-up texts or an ode of great love for another, but remain entirely incapable of face-to-face conversation, much less, working through difficulties in the relationship, commitment holds no value.

How do we grow to know Monet’s love? What will it take to become selfless in love?

How might I learn to let go of my idea of having a right to be selfish, while still practicing self-care.

I suspect it might have something to do with how much I believe I am lovable. Trust that I am loved with uncontained, unhesitating, relentless love – and by accepting this, I can love like this in return.

Do you trust God’s unyielding love for you? What would it look like for you?

May you grow to trust love from its Source as you continue to walk with Jesus through Holy Week. And may do so at the pace of grace.

The post Forgetting Self appeared first on Eirenicole.

To be eirenic is to be aimed at peace, oriented toward reconciliation. As a centering prayer I have adopted the prayer attributed to St. Frances, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. So, that is why I call my website Eirenicole – a composite of eirenic and Nicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, the theme is Love. Our meditation for today is entitled, “Chasing the Butterfly,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Chasing the Butterfly, c.1775-76, Thomas Gainsborough. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “Chasing the Butterfly, c.1775-76, Thomas Gainsborough.”

Lean into your space. Allow gravity to anchor you.

Your breath, filling you with life-giving oxygen;

Each exchange of o2 with carbon dioxide, cleansing that which is spent.

Notice your surroundings; what do you pass over each day?

Where have your thoughts repeatedly traveled?

Pay attention to them. Recognize these preoccupations.

Sit with this realization a bit. And let them be.

Breathe in a cleansing breath of new air, new life.

Breathe out gratitude for this life.

Breathe in the truth that God knows and loves you.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of surrender.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to saturate, to fill you with God’s love.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“Parental love is potentially its purest form …. love must work within that painful understanding.”

Unambiguous, Love uproots our freedom to control its outcome. It is a choice. It is also an act of faith. As parental love may be the purest form of love, loving, itself, is the purest act of faith.

The movement to love fairly shoves the lover over a precipice,

the ravine stunningly vast and ever changing.  

You may cast yourself into love holding hands with another – as parents might.

Still, the grasp is tenuous, fragile, dependent upon love’s resolve

in both.

The decision to love may not even feel like a choice at all. But once you do, you will never know how long you will stay aloft,

how great the turbulence

how fast the descent

but you will always know that Love’s Source will hold you together

through it all.

Today, you rest in Love’s embrace; and may you walk at the pace of grace.

The post Chasing the Butterfly appeared first on Eirenicole.

To be eirenic is to be aimed at peace, oriented toward reconciliation. As a centering prayer I have adopted the prayer attributed to St. Frances, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. So, that is why I call my website Eirenicole – a composite of eirenic and Nicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, the theme is confidence. Our meditation for today is entitled, “Absolute Trust,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Sacrifice of Abraham, 1994, Albert Herbert. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “Sacrifice of Abraham, 1994, Albert Herbert.”

Lean into your space. Allow gravity to anchor you.

Your breath, filling you with life-giving oxygen;

Each exchange of o2 with carbon dioxide, cleansing that which is spent.

Notice your surroundings; what do you pass over each day?

Where have your thoughts repeatedly traveled?

Pay attention to them. Recognize these preoccupations.

Sit with this realization a bit. And let them be.

Breathe in a cleansing breath of new air, new life.

Breathe out gratitude for this life.

Breathe in the truth that God knows you.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of surrender.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to saturate, to fill you with peace.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“The Abraham and his only son Isaac …. a true judgement and then cleave to it, whatever the appearances.”

Two gigantic acts of trust. Both based on knowledge of the other person and of God.

It is no difficult task to pass judgment on another’s behavior. See a thing and determine: that’s not right; that’s not how it ought to be done. But when we stop hacking away at the surface of a thing, perhaps a knife will no longer be needed.

You see, when we judge a thing as evil when it is from God, we commit an unforgivable sin. But when we judge a thing as good, when it is not from God, there is forgiveness.

Because every good gift, any goodness comes from God, the Source of Light, Truth. It is better to judge a thing as good and be wrong about it, than to rush to judgement about what may, on the surface, be apart from God’s goodness.

Isn’t it better to err on seeing goodness wherever I can?

Yet, to do so, again, is vulnerable. Trusting another to hold nothing but goodness and love toward me is risky. Because we all have been hurt by someone, and done harm against another.

But maybe the hurt comes more from an expectation of how that goodness and love ought to look. Maybe I haven’t taken time and space to know you more, and understand what it means to love and be loved by you. Maybe, even if it seems like madness, if I take my eyes off my own insipid ideas of what love ought to look like and trust you want to love in return.

Maybe we will see God, true Love, already radiant in each other.

May you confidently know Love and cleave to it today; and may you walk at the pace of grace.

The post Absolute Trust appeared first on Eirenicole.

To be eirenic is to be aimed at peace, oriented toward reconciliation. As a centering prayer I have adopted the prayer attributed to St. Frances, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. So, that is why I call my website Eirenicole – a composite of eirenic and Nicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, the theme is confidence. Our meditation for today is entitled, “A Bright Fortress,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Seaside Residence II, 1994, Pia Stern. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “Seaside Residence II, 1994, Pia Stern.”

Settle; slow your senses. Draw your mind each sense.

In your breath, the coolness of the air;

In your hearing, the birds chirping outside your window, the fan of the computer whirling.

The feel of your seat – cushioning? the texture of the fabric?

The smell of spring beginning to swell in the air

The taste of the snack you just had, or meal you sampled while cooking, or the memory of it

Embrace the whole of your body. Occupy the space within.

Breathe out gratitude for its life.

Breathe in the truth that God occupies the space with you.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of welcome.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to saturate, to fill you with peace.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“Pia Stern’s Seaside Residence II shows a structure (a ‘residence’) …. grounded in more than its own small compass – in God.”

More often than not, we have an uneasy alliance with our bodies –

even ignore our corporeality, an attempt at preventing malaise, discontent,

disgust.

Yet, as we mused yesterday, circumstance, the elements,

elude control, are random, the waves and wind,

untamed, relentless.

Without awareness, intimate knowledge of my body, all sensing by this collection of blood and flesh, sinew and bone, neurotransmissions

 – this casing we are told meant to be a holy temple –

becomes unguarded, unprotected by the

spirit entwined with Divine breath, Life-Source of the universe

and, with a huff, a puff, inevitable, inexorable,

will come tumbling down.

Your fortress, most holy sanctuary, is your corpora-reality;   

And as long as you have breath, the Breath of Life penetrates, permeates, impregnates every cell of your being.

And we are answerable to inward truth: the ground of our being is greater than the entire compendia of the elements, external forces, viruses, grief, joy;

The Ground of our being contains every atom ever spoken,

as we are contained within it.  

May you know the corpora-reality of your sacred being today, and may you walk at the pace of grace.

The post Bright Fortress appeared first on Eirenicole.

To be eirenic is to be aimed at peace, oriented toward reconciliation. As a centering prayer I have adopted the prayer attributed to St. Frances, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. So, that is why I call my website Eirenicole – a composite of eirenic and Nicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, the theme is confidence. Our meditation for today is entitled, “Courage,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, Gilles, 1721, Jean-Antoine Watteau. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “Gilles, 1721, Jean-Antoine Watteau.”

So as you settle in your space,

listen for the silence; hear the space between the sounds.

Consent to stillness; rest in quietness

Settle into your space and engage your solitude.

Do you find confinement increasing anxiety?

Notice what has taken space in your thoughts, how it resonates in your body.

Accept it.

Breathe out an acknowledgment of the sensations.

Breathe in the grace that God also fills this space with you.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of relinquishment.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to saturate, to fill you with peace.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“Gilles is a man discomforted: he stands exposed…. nothing matters except to be true to what we know is right.”

Acceptance of powerlessness. Surrender.

Distinct from the abuse of power, a victim

It is enlightenment, an awakening

to our microscale existence within the cosmic sweep

it is acceptance of the futility of the fight

against forces that are beyond our remit, our reach

It’s a decision to wait – knowing the unknown.

A decision to rest in the hidden \ no torch, and yet

And yet. A filament of luminescence  

A strand of spider’s silk, iridescent,

stretched across a universe, dazzling-robust,

tethers us to the macrocosm’s Source.

In confidence we sway suspended

if only we wait, eyes adjusting in the darkness,

candescent threads emanate, expose

the labyrinthine web of all Creation.   

We cannot know the outcome of this novel virus, nor the length of its stay. And we can rage against the nonsensical that is COVID-19,

crumple while sheltering in place.

Or we can wait, accept our existence, be still, knowing the unknown,

and allow our eyes to adjust, behold:

we are cocooned in the impenetrable silk of God’s Love. May you wait wrapped the confidence of God’s Love today, and may you walk at the pace of grace.

The post Courage appeared first on Eirenicole.

To be eirenic is to be aimed at peace, oriented toward reconciliation. As a centering prayer I have adopted the prayer attributed to St. Frances, Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. So, that is why I call my website Eirenicole – a composite of eirenic and Nicole.

For Lent, we are using the book, The Art of Lent: A Painting a Day From Ash Wednesday to Easter, by Sister Wendy Beckett. This week, the theme is confidence. Our meditation for today is entitled, “Inner Tranquility,” and the focus of our attention will be on the painting, St. Nicholas of Bari (detail from the Ansidei Madonna), 1505, Raphael. The image is included in the post for this podcast, and accompanies the places where this is posted. If you do not have access to the photo, but do have access to internet, you can google “St. Nicholas of Bari, 1505, Raphael.”

So as you settle in your space,

listen for the silence; hear the space between the sounds.

Welcome the stillness; open to quietness

Settle into your space and invite your senses, your thoughts to sit with you.

Do you find confinement increasing anxiety?

Notice what has taken space in your thoughts, how it resonates in your body.

Greet it.

Breathe out an acknowledgment of the sensations.

Breathe in the grace that God also fills this space with you.

As you breathe out, exhale a prayer of welcome, embrace.

Continue breathing in and out, allow the Spirit to saturate, to fill you with peace.

Pay attention to God’s invitation to be present.

Settle into the peace of Christ as you listen. Hear the mediation and notice what the spirit of God draws your attention to in this painting. What is Jesus speaking to you here, now?

“Peace that demands unreal conditions is a deception…. the significance of those stresses, their value and their motivation.”

Insight. When experiencing a stress-filled situation, it is a simple thing to feel the stress, to know the agitation in your bones. And react, unthinking, to the discomfort: a harsh quip to the nearest person, barbed interaction with a loved one.

When there is discomfort, we judge it as wrong, somehow evil, even. Yet, when we take a moment to notice the nature of the stressor, the source of it, or even just our attitude toward it,

We hear the invitation in it: reevaluate. Why is my body tensing up over this? What is so potent to cause this pressure, this ache in my head?

A stressful situation is stressful insofar as I consider it as such. When I notice my discomfort, it can act as prompt to accept its invitation

To recreate, transform my judgment into discernment.

Take a breath.

Reimagine.

And slowly, perhaps excruciatingly so at first,

persistent, the physical effects diminish, dissipate,

direct the irritation into nothingness.

Until, without even being able to detect the transition,

it is no longer fraught.

I am nestled in an expansive space, timeless

Every surface unoccupied, ready;

primed to absorb insight, embody discernment.

And to know, body and soul, inner tranquility.

In what do you place your confidence? How does the truth of it impact inner peace in a stressful time?

May you move in confidence in the embrace of the truest Source of peace, and may you walk at the pace of grace.

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