Today's Quote

Children do live in fantasy and reality; they move back and forth very easily in a way we no longer remember how to do.
Children who fight back, children who are full of excitement are the kind of children I like.
I don't believe in children. I don't believe in childhood. I don't believe that there's a demarcation. 'Oh you mustn't tell them that. You mustn't tell them that.' You tell them anything you want. Just tell them if it's true. If it's true you tell them.
Max was a little beast, and we're all little beasts. That was what was so novel.
You cannot write for children. They're much too complicated. You can only write books that are of interest to them.
There are so many beautiful things in the world which I will have to leave when I die, but I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready.

All from Maurice Sendak, 1928 - 2012

I found this lovely quote this morning....going to re-read his "Ragamuffin Gospel."  


“If we maintain the open-mindedness of children, we challenge fixed ideas and established structures, including our own. We listen to people in other denominations and religions. We don't find demons in those with whom we disagree. We don't cozy up to people who mouth our jargon. If we are open, we rarely resort to either-or: either creation or evolution, liberty or law, sacred or secular, Beethoven or Madonna. We focus on both-and, fully aware that God's truth cannot be imprisoned in a small definition. ” 
― Brennan Manning

From Shalem Institute

This captures perfectly the theme of my blog.  I have not been courageous in attempting to explain it myself, although it has been my ever-present awareness for over twenty years. I have often made notes in margins of books and articles when I notice another pearl of truth related to retaining the openness, curiosity and willingness to be one with the universe that children seem to model best. Perhaps with this shared piece of wisdom I can step up now and expand on the concept in future postings.  Thanks to Sue C. and the Shalem Institute for this piece of inspired writing.

Childlike Wonder

by Sue Czarnetzky 

Metropolitan DC was experiencing its third day of 97-degree-plus temperatures.  The heat index stayed stuck in triple digits.  I longed for the coolness of a mountain stream shaded by the overhanging boughs of giant hemlocks.  I imagined myself moving across the rocks in the streambed, nimble and surefooted, like a mountain goat.  On a chosen rock, I would stop to sit and dip my toes into the cool water.  The swiftly moving current would massage my feet.  My entire body would relax and be renewed.

I ventured out into this suburban desert to tie a surprise thank-you balloon on a friend's door. No one was home.  Selfishly, I hoped for their delayed return.  Across the yard in clear view, I spotted my oasis, a suitable substitute for a mountain stream.

Quickly I removed my socks and sneakers.  Barefoot, I skipped across the lawn, stopping where small puddles had formed in the grass.  Stepping into one, I disturbed a swallowtail butterfly that was "puddling."  Softened soil oozed between my toes.  I stood perfectly still-waiting.  Soon my oasis moved directly overhead, forming a 90-degree angle with the earth.  Gracefully, it slowly lowered itself to the ground, wetting everything in its path.  Sunlight made rainbow colors cling to descending water droplets.

This arc of water continued to move back and forth across the lawn.  I felt my body begin to move, too.  The motion of my outstretched arms resembled that of the butterfly's wings that had just taken flight.  There was no particular rhythm-no syncopated beat to which I danced with the sun, a cloudless blue sky and the gentle breeze that whispered through a canopy of leaves high overhead.  My feet simply carried me in and out of the path of the sprinkler.  In the grace of the moment, oblivious to everything around me, I experienced a sense of a newly found freedom.  It seemed I was one with the universe.  When I finally stopped moving, my water soaked t-shirt clung to my body.  Now matted and limp, my hair begged to be combed.

I found myself scanning the horizon for witnesses to my childlike behavior.  What would the neighbors think?  Would they be quick to report the sighting of an adult whirling and twirling with abandon beneath the spray of a garden sprinkler?  When I spotted my saggy, soggy reflection in my car window, laughter replaced any questioning thoughts.  The joy of the spontaneity of the moment returned.  All that mattered was that I had permitted myself to be alive to the world around me.

How easy it is to keep wonder and awe, the gifts given to us as children, buried beneath the busyness of living out each day.  We forget that God created us in the image of the One who loved life.

Sue is a graduate of Shalem's Leading Contemplative Prayer Groups & Retreats Program and a former Shalem board member.

© 2008-2009 Shalem Institute For Spiritual Formation.

My Sunday cardinal

As if on cue
Sir Redfeather arrives
                  to perch on leafless limb
                              and sing of spring.
Two Sundays now
             I gaze out to garden's frozen foliage
                            and dead debris.
"Cheer, cheer, look here!"
Sweet song swells from breast of patient love
                as soft-hued mate flies in,
                          settles close in melodious duet.


Kathleen A Houchens copyright 2012

Sunny Sunday!

(copyright 2012 Kathie Houchens)

Chirping bush and singing trees,
soon will come the buzz of bees.
Morning frost gives way to sun.
Nature smiles.  A walk is fun.
Bulbs are bold to wave their green;
blossoms' promise can be seen.
My senses all alert, aware, 
awake to new life everywhere.

Bright February Surprise!

(copyright 2012 Kathleen A Houchens 2-5-12)

Ruby cardinal,
      gem set amid
               glittering diamond ice-drop-studded cherry tree branches,
awaits admirers of jeweler-God's artistry,
      chirps a pre-spring "Cheer, cheer, cheer,"
             begins a ballet with bouncy chicadees,
                     then flashing brilliant red wings flies off.

Wisdom from Richard Rohr

Thought for the day from Richard Rohr:

In classical spiritual biographies and autobiographies, the seeker usually moves through several stages, today referred to as levels of consciousness. The seeker travels from simple consciousness (“the child”), to complex consciousness (most of the middle of life), and, hopefully, to enlightened consciousness, which looks surprisingly simple again! Is that the real meaning of “second childhood”? Such enlightenment is, of course, the goal.

The first simplicity and the second simplicity are, however, completely different. The first simplicity is naïve, dualistic, and far too sure of itself. This is what Paul regrets about his early zeal and righteousness, which led him to kill Christians. In our early years, we largely “split” for the sake of quick and false success—we split the natural from the spiritual, the light from the shadow, the weeds from the wheat, the friend from the enemy. But when we come to enlightened consciousness, which is the second simplicity, we have learned to include, accept, and forgive the negatives, the problems, and the contradictions that were revealed in the middle of life to be much more complex than we first imagined.

As Paul says above, we learn to stop “crucifying”—ourselves and others, which is precisely “resurrection”!

Adapted from On the Threshold of Transformation:
Daily Meditations for Men, p. 32