Events in my life of late have been leading me to contemplate prayer quite a bit. I thought I would share some inspiration on this subject as I find and revel in it, starting with a poem by Mary Oliver called “Praying, from her book, “THIRST, and another…
In writing this to you now, I taste again the nectar of that butterfly’s presence and the wonder of my father’s spirit alighting (even if just in my imagination). What a perennial gift writing is, leading us, when we let it, deep into the heart. To harvest the nectar. To harvest love.
This was the summer I finally was going to get my vegetable garden going again.
I got out soon as the ground could be worked in May to reclaim my 20 x 15-foot patch—beautifully situated in full sun— from the plethora of weeds spreading rampant and happy in the rich earth.
If every item on my to-do list were a person, the line would go out my door, down the road, past the two cow barns, all the way to the banks of the Connecticut, over the river (if the bridge vetoed out of existence had actually been built)—— and then some.
Fully grasped and lived,
Rumi’s words would change our world.
Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
