The Vibrant Channeled Creator

In Several Colors

by Jane Kenyon

Every morning, cup of coffee

in hand, I look out at the mountain.

Ordinarily, it’s blue, but today

it’s the color of an eggplant.

And the sky turns

from gray to pale apricot

as the sun rolls up

Main Street in Andover.

I study the cat’s face

and find a trace of white

around each eye, as if

he made himself up today

for a part in the opera.
 
Jane Kenyon, “In Several Colors” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 2005 by The Estate of Jane Kenyon. Used by permission of The Permissions Company, LLC, on behalf of Graywolf Press, Minneapolis, Minnesota, http://www.graywolfpress.org.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 27, 2022
“The Lord is not looking for perfect Christians; the Lord is not looking for Christians who never doubt and always flaunt a steadfast faith… No, the adventure of faith… consists of lights and shadows. Otherwise, what kind of faith would that be? It knows times of comfort, zeal and enthusiasm, but also of weariness, confusion, doubt and darkness… Crises are not sins, they are part of the journey, we should not fear them. Many times, they make us humble because they strip us of the idea that we are fine, that we are better than others. Crises help us to recognize that we are needy: they rekindle the need for God and thus enable us to return to the Lord, to touch his wounds, to experience his love anew as if it were the first time.”
Pope Francis
 

It’s the week of May Day, a time to celebrate spring.
On this day in 1922 writer E.B. White (books by this author) wrote to his mother from Columbus, Ohio. He and a friend were on a road trip to Seattle and he was writing to congratulate his parents on their wedding anniversary. He said:

“Spring has arrived in Ohio. This is a flat state where red pigs graze in bright green fields and where farms are neat and prosperous — not like New York farms. We roll along through dozens of villages and cities whose names we never heard. […] Sheep come drifting up long green lawns where poplars throw interminable shadows, come drifting up and stand like statues beneath white plum blossoms, while far down the land and off in the fields a little Ford tractor moves like a snail across the furrows. Lilacs are in full bloom and the lavender ironwood blossoms are coloring all the roads.”
TUESDAY, APRIL 26, 2022

“Dear brothers and sisters, is better to have an imperfect but humble faith that always returns to Jesus, than a strong but presumptuous faith that makes us proud and arrogant. Woe to those, woe to them!”
Pope Francis

MONDAY, APRIL 25, 2022
“I want to share with you the most beautiful thing in life. Do you know what it is? It is the joy of giving ourselves completely in love, which makes us free. That joy has a name: it is Jesus. I wish you the beauty of falling in love with Jesus, who is the God of mercy… and who believes in you, dreams with you, loves your lives and will never disappoint you. Keep going forward always with Jesus, with your family and with the People of God; do not forget your roots. Speak with your elders, speak with your grandparents, speak with elderly people! May the Lord accompany you, and Our Lady keep you. Let us now pray to her for peace, as we think of the humanitarian tragedy unfolding… May we be tireless in praying and in offering assistance to those who suffer.”
Pope Francis

They Sit Together on the Porch
by Wendell Berry

They sit together on the porch, the dark
Almost fallen, the house behind them dark.
Their supper done with, they have washed and dried
The dishes–only two plates now, two glasses,
Two knives, two forks, two spoons–small work for two.
She sits with her hands folded in her lap,
At rest. He smokes his pipe. They do not speak,
And when they speak at last it is to say
What each one knows the other knows. They have
One mind between them, now, that finally
For all its knowing will not exactly know
Which one goes first through the dark doorway, bidding
Goodnight, and which sits on a while alone.

Wendell Berry, “They Sit Together on the Porch” from A Timbered Choir. ©1998

SUNDAY, APRIL 24, 2022
“Disability, in any form, represents a challenge and an opportunity to build together a more inclusive and civil society…The Covid-19 pandemic has had a very serious impact, especially on the most fragile, the elderly, people with disabilities and their families.… Dear brothers and sisters, in this situation, our response must be solidarity, forming a network. Solidarity in prayer and solidarity in charity, that becomes real sharing. Faced with so many wounds, especially in the most vulnerable, we must not squander the opportunity to support each other. Let us take responsibility for human suffering with projects and proposals that put the smallest at the center.”
Pope Francis
 

We Think We Know What It Will Look Like

Standing in the thick green
of bindweed and cheese wheel
it is easy to dream of a time
when the garden is perfectly
hoed and the peppers hang
red on the stems, the green beans
dangle like long slender earrings
and the ears of corn swell with gold.
“Silly dreamer,” says Rumi, who
comes in to sit beside the peas.
“You are waiting for a miracle
when it is already happening.”

Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
in The Miracle Already Happening:
everyday life with Rumi

SATURDAY, APRIL 23, 2022
“When we resort to violence, we show that we no longer know anything about God, who is our Father, or even about others, who are our brothers and sisters. We lose sight of why we are in the world and even end up committing senseless acts of cruelty. We see this in the folly of war, where Christ is crucified yet another time. Christ is once more nailed to the Cross in mothers who mourn the unjust death of husbands and sons. He is crucified in refugees who flee from bombs with children in their arms. He is crucified in the elderly left alone to die; in young people deprived of a future; in soldiers

Pope Francis

On Faith


by Cecilia Woloch

How do people stay true to each other?


When I think of my parents all those years


in the unmade bed of their marriage, not ever


longing for anything else—or: no, they must


have longed; there must have been flickerings,


stray desires, nights she turned from him,


sleepless, and wept, nights he rose silently,


smoked in the dark, nights that nest of breath


and tangled limbs must have seemed


not enough. But it was. Or they just


held on. A gift, perhaps, I’ve tossed out,


having been always too willing to fly


to the next love, the next and the next, certain


nothing was really mine, certain nothing


would ever last. So faith hits me late, if at all;


faith that this latest love won’t end, or ends


in the shapeless sleep of death. But faith is hard.


When he turns his back to me now, I think:


disappear. I think: not what I want. I think


of my mother lying awake in those arms


that could crush her. That could have. Did not.

 
“On Faith” by Cecilia Woloch, from Late. © BOA Editions, 2003.

FRIDAY, APRIL 22, 2022

“If we want to test whether we truly belong to Christ, let us look at how we behave toward those who have hurt us. The Lord asks us to respond not as we feel, or as everyone else does, but in the way he acts toward us. He asks us to break out of the mindset that says: “I will love you if you love me; I will be your friend if you are my friend; I will help you if you help me.” Rather, we are to show compassion and mercy to everyone, for God sees a son or a daughter in each person. He does not separate us into good and bad, friends and enemies. We are the ones who do this, and we make God suffer. For him, all of us are his beloved children, children whom he desires to embrace and forgive.”

Pope Francis

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 20, 2022
“Let us cling to the certainty that God can forgive every sin. He forgives everyone. He can bridge every distance, and turn all mourning into dancing. The certainty that with Jesus there is always a place for everyone. That with Christ things are never over. That with him, it is never too late. With God, we can always come back to life. Take courage!… For Christ constantly intercedes for us before the Father. Gazing upon our violent and tormented world, he never tires of repeating: Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. Let us now do the same, in silence, in our hearts, and repeat: Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Pope Francis

THURSDAY, APRIL 21, 2022
“Let us think about someone who, in our own lives, injured, offended or disappointed us; someone who made us angry, who did not understand us or who set a bad example. How often we spend time looking back on those who have wronged us! How often we think back and lick the wounds that other people, life itself and history have inflicted on us. Today, Jesus teaches us not to remain there, but to react, to break the vicious circle of evil and sorrow. To react to the nails in our lives with love, to the buffets of hatred with the embrace of forgiveness. As disciples of Jesus, do we follow the Master or do we follow our own desire to strike back? This is a question we have to ask ourselves. Do we follow the Master or not?”
Pope Francis

The need for teachers in times of Global Trauma:
Dear Jeanne,
Our world is in a time of profound suffering and uncertainty. It is also a time of increasing isolation from one another, when people are focused more on the individual than the collective. We urgently need mindfulness teachers around the world who can help evolve human consciousness and nourish a sense of interdependence, compassion, and love.
You are invited to join us live as Tami Simon talks with Tara Brach and Jack Kornfield about why our world so deeply needs more mindfulness teachers and how we can serve healing by:
• Cultivating deeper awareness and compassion
• Shifting focus from individual to collective well-being
• Awakening the wisdom of interdependence
• Dedicating ourselves to engaged spirituality and a more equitable, just world
Join us LIVE on April 29, 2022, at 1 pm ET | 10 am PT.

Troubling Myself with Things Too Great for Me
James Silas Rogers

For instance, the physics of red wine,
which Galileo called “sunlight held together
by water.” Sounds plausible, but how?
Or backing up a step, with the physics
of beauty itself, such as radiates
in these freshly washed Delaware grapes.
With the possible exception of a woman’s
breast, a tumbling cluster of grapes
or the globe of one full fruit
might be as nearly perfect a form
as we will see in this life.
Look at this shoulder of table grapes
in the evening sun. Know that
the old prig St. Augustine,
a too-stern and oh-so-rational man,
was right on this: it was love
that called the world into being.

James Silas Rogers, “Troubling Myself with Things Too Great for Me” from The Collector of Shadows. © 2019 Brighthorse Books.
On this spring day in 1944, three months before the family was found and arrested, Anne Frank (books by this author) wrote in her diary: “Is there anything more beautiful in the world than to sit before an open window and enjoy nature, to listen to the birds singing, feel the sun on your cheeks and have a darling boy in your arms?”

TUESDAY, APRIL 19, 2022
“When we cause suffering by our actions, God suffers yet has only one desire: to forgive us. In order to appreciate this, let us gaze upon the crucified Lord. It is from his painful wounds, from the streams of blood caused by the nails of our sinfulness that forgiveness gushes forth. Let us look to Jesus on the cross and realize that greater words were never spoken: Father, forgive. Let us look to Jesus on the cross and realize that we have never been looked upon with a more gentle and compassionate gaze. Let us look to Jesus on the cross and understand that we have never received a more loving embrace. Let us look to the crucified Lord and say: “Thank you, Jesus: you love me and always forgive me, even at those times when I find it hard to love and forgive myself.””
Pope Francis
 
 
Homily ~ April 10, 2022

Like limpid liquid,

Bob Boy poured into the crystal clear dimension

where his distinct family awaited him.

His limpid clarity illuminated each scribe

as his translucent spirit shifted by,

see-through music pulsating in the realm of rhythm’s flourishes.

Luminous wings fluttered as he passed,

feathers reaching out,

offering themselves to be carved into quills for the angel master arriving.

Colors of the rainbow

arranged themselves in bows to the sun.

Unclouded resonance settled in the Heavens.

Bob Boy was home.

poem by Jeanne Poland

April 11, 2019

in memory of Bob’s Passing

in Providence R I

Today is the Christian holiday of Easter Sunday, the celebration of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead three days after his crucifixion. Easter is a moveable feast; in other words, it’s one of the few floating holidays in the calendar year because it’s based on the cycles of the moon. Jesus was said to have risen from the dead on the first Sunday after the first full moon of spring. For that reason, Easter can fall as early as March 22nd and as late as April 25th. Easter also marks the end of the 40-day period of Lent and the beginning of Eastertide; the week before Easter is known as Holy Week and includes the religious holidays Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.
The word “Easter” and most of the secular celebrations of the holiday come from pagan traditions. Anglo Saxons worshipped Eostre, the goddess of springtime and the return of the sun after the long winter. According to legend, Eostre once saved a bird whose wings had frozen during the winter by turning it into a rabbit. Because the rabbit had once been a bird, it could still lay eggs, and that rabbit became our Easter Bunny. Eggs were a symbol of fertility in part because they used to be so scarce during the winter. There are records of people giving each other decorated eggs at Easter as far back as the 11th century.
The Poetry Almanac
The Writer’s Almanac for Sunday, April 17, 2022

Irish poet Brendan Kennelly, born in Ballylongford, County Kerry (1936). He was a literature professor at Trinity College in Dublin, and a very popular poet — he published more than 20 books of poems.

He said:
“Poetry is, above all, a singing art of natural and magical connection because, though it is born out of one’s person’s solitude, it has the ability to reach out and touch in a humane and warmly illuminating way the solitude, even the loneliness, of others. That is why, to me, poetry is one of the most vital treasures that humanity possesses; it is a bridge between separated souls.”

Hurricane Lily

Stopped at a crosswalk in Stockbridge, my car beams spotlight a baby,
braced tall in her father’s backpack, facing a wolfish wind.
With downy hair
and globe of forehead
she is her own planet.

Wide-eyed and rapt,
she drinks in the waterblink
of headlights and downpour
among the flying leaves.

While fall becomes winter in this tree-stripping wind, she and I are being born, green and new,
into a love of wildness.
jch 1990’s