Author: cometsgirl

Today is my half-birthday. When I was growing up we celebrated half-birthdays. I’ve not known of anyone other than my family who did this. It’s obviously an obscure event.

There was celebration everywhere I looked this day. In the sky…

at Zendo Coffee – a heart in my cappuccino – best friend cuppa sharing.

And… Celebration of The Holy Eucharist at St. Mark’s Episcopal church.

Now airborne with this send-off view.

Now BUMPING my way through the skies descending into Atlanta.

A most excellent day. Well, with the exception of turbulence.

Traveling mercies.

This turned out to be an anything-can-happen day. Also a u-turn day.

First stop was Coffee Apothecary for cuppas and to say goodbye to our friends Lydia and Pablo. We were gifted with fresh-roasted coffee beans as we departed. Their business has taken off and it was so good to see their hard work pay off.

Originally we had planned to drive to the wildlife refuge, Bosque de Apache. It’s 90 miles south of Albuquerque, our destination for the night.

As we drove south from Taos, we passed the Rio Grange Gorge Visitor Center. We immediately noticed the American flag was flying – which meant the federal employees at this location had returned to work. A quick u-turn to the center so we could walk in and welcome them back! They were delighted with our gesture. We had some good conversation too.

It was at this point we decided to skip Bosque de Apache, and take the road from the center along the Rio Grande River west. It’s a favorite drive of mine, and the drive was beautiful.

At the bridge we net a young woman walking nearby. She was from California and had traveled to the area to celebrate her birthday. She was delightful. She asked if the road continued to the highway – it does. She then mentioned she was headed to a local winery. Vivac.

We parted ways, returned to the highway and headed south. Some 15 miles later we passed Vivac Winery. We decided it would be fun to pay it forward and buy a bottle of wine for her. We made a u-turn back to the winery.

The woman tending the business was delighted with our plan. We made arrangements, left a note, and continued south.

Awhile later we decided we should detour to Abiquiu, home of Georgia O’Keeffe. One of my most favorite places is just north of Abiquiu. Off we went.

That’s her home. You can see it from the highway if you know where to look.

Here’s my favorite place. Overlooking the River Chama.

Returning to our road south, we decided to take a more scenic route to Albuquerque than the way ahead, so we u-turned to Los Alamos, Jemez Springs, and Bernillilo. We were treated to high mountain vistas beyond description.

We continued on through Jemez Springs.

Then to Bernillilo for dinner at The Range.

Eventually we arrived at Hotel Andaluz, Albuquerque!

A simply amazing day made more amazing because of u-turns.

So I got my hair cut yesterday.

I should have done this before I began travel. I just had “too few minutes” to do so.

Showing up in a part of the country with no humidity, in need of a haircut, was a recipe for a rather unkempt look.

I purchased a new ear cuff from a Native American artisan selling her wares on the Santa Fe Plaza. I love the cuff, but it’s clear there is a need for hair shaping.

A community helped me look sharp once again.

Abby, our ceramic artist friend, volunteered to see if her stylist might have an opening. Surprisingly she did.

I met Marie later that day.

When we arrived she was finishing with a customer. Immediately drawn into conversation, we found we had other communities in common.

Conversation with Marie was rich. I’m so glad she came into my life for a time.

And then I was transformed.

Having dinner later in the day, we ran into the other customer and had brief reunion of conversation and hair talk. It was nice to have a moment of recognition with a stranger who is a stranger no longer.

As I write this, I am seated in community at the Coffee Apothecary. We met Lydia and Pablo about three years ago. They had just opened their coffee shop and we became friendly right away. Reunion each year is great fun.

Surrounded by community in a community were I find myself just once a year. A blessing for sure.

Any kind of mammal crossing sign – with the exception of cows – gets my attention. I immediately see a promise. A promise that I will be treated to an out of the ordinary mammal viewing.

I move into a heightened state of watchfulness. I’m certain whatever is crossing will come into view shortly.

More often than not, there is no viewing. And then accompanying disappointment.

Then another promise appears.

And hope floats once again.

I’m certain, just around the corner…

There.. do you see something moving?

Where? Right over there….

This time my expectation is met. What about next time?

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Hebrews. 11:1.

Unlike previous days, today began in urgent mode. Company’s coming.

Abby, our favorite ceramic artist, was coming for breakfast and reunion. We’ve known Abby for many years and she’s always part of the journey here. It’s because of Abby that we have this casa for our lodging.

We met her during the years we lodged in an earthship.

I had to scurry to dress and get on the road. Priorities. Today’s New York Times, cappuccino, and firestarter logs. We ran out of kindling yesterday, and a welcoming fire is important.

Gathered around the fire, we feasted on a meal of food and conversation. Both were sustaining and life enriching.

Living for a time in this space, among and in the midst of art and furnishings, brings back the life of Georgia who created this casa. She died a few years ago and I miss her presence when I’m here. She was a force in the arts community in Taos. She had a passion for fairness and justice.

Her art studio was open for us to experiment. It was joyous to be artful for a time.

All this to say I enjoyed a cup of friendship with both Abby and Georgia today.

I began this day with orange juice and Mary Oliver.

Oliver wrote, Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed.  

I am often aware of being blessed. Certainly I’m aware of being blessed when I’m standing in surroundings that shout “Blessed!”

Oliver’s words suggest to me that I am blessed often – wherever I stand. I just don’t make note of it.

Yet, it is huge. Think about it. There is no need to seek out being blessed. I already am. We all are. Right where we stand.

At 4:45 am my weather app said it was snowing. With sunrise in 2 1/2 hours, it was too dark to see if this was true. I wandered around the casa until I found a light switch for the patio.

It was true!

Snow has a way of quieting things. It covers over and makes things unseen. I love the hush of snow.

Inside it’s not quite as quiet because I have built a morning fire and it’s “exploding” a bit as it burns.

Today I was invited into her space of quiet, and I accepted. It began with a gong. Of course.

Words of Martin Luther King, Jr. were spoken, with an invitation to chose one word that touched my heart. Then ponder that word in silence, and consider the invitation that word is offering me today.

I chose trail. I’m thinking about how trail can be something you follow, or something you blaze for others to follow.

Given that each day I’m pondering how can I lift the cup of my life to God, it may be that I’m to walk with God in such a manner that others might feel drawn to do so in their own lives. That sounds kind of presumptuous.

But I’m sincere and intentional about the trail I find I am forging at this time in my life. Perhaps others will come along.

After a day of parish events – services, breakfast, vestry installation and annual meeting, I was ready to head to the hills. The northern New Mexico mountains.

With a 8:30 pm departure and eventual 1am arrival at our Santa Fe hotel, it was a long day. But having a destination to which I longed to return, the hours passed easily.

A 400-step walk from the hotel to 35 degree North Coffee this morning, brought me to the cup that would begin the day. As I sipped my first cup of the day, I pondered – how can I lift the cup of my life to God this day.

From today’s Daily Office I read Psalm 25:1. To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul.

That became my intent today. To lift up my soul. As I walked the labyrinth on the grounds of St. Francis Cathedral, a favorite song came to mind. It is well with my Soul.

As the song played in my head, it seemed to me I might be lifting up my soul through the prayers uttered as I walked the labyrinth. Ice obstacles on the surfaces of the labyrinth reminded me of the need to be intentional in all things.

Leaving Santa Fe a short time later, we chose to drive what is known as the “High Road” to Taos. This route is through small towns and villages, up through Carson National forest.

Expansive views along the way invite one’s soul to soar.

At last. Our destination.

Now in for the night.

It is well
With my soul
It is well, it is well with my soul.

The Lectionary readings for today, the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, shared a theme- jars, goblets, cups. Saint James parishioners gather with our rector weekly to discuss the readings for the coming Sunday. During the recent study gathering, the  readings gave me an idea for my blog while I travel this coming week. The following sentences are from the commentary that accompanied the readings.

The passage from John’s Gospel (2:1-11) speaks of huge stone jars holding water.  Jesus makes use of them for his first miracle, turning water into wine for wedding guests. which teaches that our journey to the sacred comes through the ordinary.

Within everyday water, we can still glimpse the burgundy of grace. 

Paul’s letter to the Corinthians (1 Corinthians 12:1-11) praises another kind of container for the ordinary.  Us. We are vessels, and even though we look unpromising as vessels, and seem to be unlikely disciples. the spirit transforms us just as Jesus changed water to wine.

The Spirit blesses a wide variety of ministries, so that no two goblets will ever be identical.

 

Isaiah (62:1-5) says that God delights in us and with that affirmation we are encouraged to love the mystery we are, accepting the chips, the cracks and unfinished nature of our cup. Knowing that the cup of our life is held securely in God’s hands, enables us to endure the tension of filling and emptying that goes on throughout a lifetime.

At the end of the study, we were invited to consider this: Reminded by every cup I drink from today, how can I lift the cup of my life to God, to be refilled and transformed?

I’ve decided to be intentional about this invitation, while I am on retreat in northern New Mexico during this season of Epiphany. Sometime during each day, as I drink my coffee or my water, or my juice, or coffee again,  I will consider how can I lift the cup of my life to God.  As I write a blog post each day, I will include what I drank and what I considered. Join me as I sip and as I consider.

Traveling mercies.

Recently I read Mary Oliver’s poem, Mindful.  One of the lines caught my attention – “the prayers that are made out of grass”.

In the poem Oliver says “everyday I see or hear something that more or less kills me with delight…”.  She states she is not talking about anything exceptional or extravagant,  but of the daily ordinary and common presentations, such as “the ocean’s shine, the prayers that are made of grass”.

Wow.  What to make of these words?

“…kills me with delight…”, “…prayers made of grass”.

What a lovely reframing of the word kill. To be killed with delight.  That’s gotta be some kind of delight!  I felt that kind of delight on my trip to the Faroe Islands last year.

I’m pretty sure I’m often “killed with delight”, but I have never used the word delight with the word kill. What does that really mean? I guess for me it means experiencing a moment that all but overwhelms; or a moment of astonishment that completely covers me. Knocks me over. Stuns me into silence.

Or, perhaps, to be Gobsmacked.  I learned this word on a trip to Scotland while riding a ferry.  After I looked up the definition, I was gobsmacked by the word “gobsmacked”.

And then I beheld this view on the Isle of Iona, and I experienced a gobsmacked moment, or as I now realize, killed with delight.

I’ve felt this level of delight on a much smaller scale, of course, as well.

Yep, I’m still able to stand a salt shaker on its edge.

We all need to pause to focus, see and appreciate the “daily presentations”, so as to not miss being killed with delight.

Just this morning as I drove off from home, I was killed with delight as I turned out of my driveway. The reflection seen in the image is the sky reflected on the hood of my car.

So what of “prayers made out of grass”? I’m certain many people – from poetry scholars, to those who simply enjoy reading poetry- have opinions about what grass prayers mean. I’ve been thinking about what it means to me since I first read the poem.

My first thought was about how grasses face upward, implying God, who is to receive our prayers, is “up” somewhere. As I’ve matured in my faith, I know now God surrounds, not hangs from up above.

Another thought- grasses sway. This reminds me of prayer and praise music, that often causes one to sway to both the melody and the words. A kind of swaying prayer.

And then I come to the natural world.  God’s creation. Grasses are rooted in the earth, providing a foundation of sorts – just as I want my life to be a foundation rooted in prayer. Swaying now and then when the breeze of God’s presence makes me take notice.

I’m headed to northern New Mexico on Sunday. It’s a place where true native grasses are found. It’s also a place where it’s often easy to be killed with delight.

And it’s a place of wide-open places where prayers can be cast upwards, and cast about.

As I was finishing this blog post just now, I learned of Mary Oliver’s death today. I give thanks for her beautiful and “not fancy” (as she was quoted as saying) words that have given me such delight.

Traveling mercies.