Beauty on my doorstep

My dear friend Pascale recently wrote a SoulPancake post challenging others to find beauty even in the midst of chaos. We have a lot of chaos around us at the moment, between the upheaval all over the Middle East, the plate-tectonic upheaval along the ring of fire, nuclear disasters, floods, fires, and war and violence. I spent part of my morning scrolling through hundreds of photographs of the lives of those whose entire cities were literally obliterated in mere seconds by the Japanese tsunami a few days ago. It made me feel deeply sad for the thousands of people who have just lost everything except for their lives.

After I finished looking at the photographs, I found myself wishing that I were closer so that I could help out. I do not have a lot of financial resources right now, but I do have my time, and if I were in Japan I might have been able to volunteer and make myself useful. Being so far away from Japan, I was feeling tremendously helpless, so I decided to take Pascale up on her challenge, and head out for a walk in my neighbourhood looking for the endless sources of beauty and hope in my world, that help to balance out the vast amounts of loss of life and destruction. It is springtime in Sacramento. An incredibly wet springtime, but springtime nonetheless, and everywhere I looked there was beauty pressing up through the soil, out of branches, out from between leaves, and through fresh stems. I walked through lots of puddles, and wandered into numerous gardens. I also spent some time in the park near my house, and in the amazing rock garden that is in the park, that is filled with plants from all over the world. It was chilly, with a breeze blowing. The air was sweet, and large and small birds crossed my path many times. The sun started to break through the clouds while I was out there, casting that magical, surreal light that saturates the landscape when light shines through cloud over everything.  I thought I would share some of the beauty that I came across with you here. Bring a little beauty to you, mid-week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I challenge you to find and photograph, draw, paint, write or sing about something beautiful on your doorstep. If you do, post it in Pascale's SoulPancake entry, and bring a little more beauty into her life. Life post-earthquake is tough when you have no home, and your business has no customers because everyone is struggling to get by...since so many of us have so much beauty, perhaps we could share some of ours with her until things start looking up in New Zealand.

Have a beautiful Wednesday! 

Trinidad & Tobago

"The more difficulties one sees in the world the more perfect one becomes. The more you plough and dig the ground the more fertile it becomes. The more you cut the branches of a tree the higher and stronger it grows. The more you put the gold in the fire the purer it becomes. The more often the captain of a ship is in the tempest and difficult sailing the greater his knowledge becomes." - 'Abdu'l-Bahá

Last night my time, just was I was getting ready for bed, an earthquake of magnitude 6.3 shook Christchurch, New Zealand so violently that buildings collapsed in on themselves, roads buckled and ripped apart, cars were flattened beneath rubble falling from buildings, water pipes burst, and sinkholes opened up all over the city. I have a very close friend who lives in Christchurch whose family home was damaged so severely in the country's last major earthquake, in September 2010, that the building had already been identified as one that needs to be torn down and rebuilt in the near-future, so the news that another earthquake had struck, and only three miles beneath the city, had me worried sick for Pascale and her family. 

After watching video clips of the cathedral's steeple collapsing, the entire downtown area in rubble, and seeing images of people emerging from beneath buildings covered in blood, I got on Facebook to see if Pascale had posted any updates on how they were doing. 

Pascale is an amazing woman. She is a personal trainer who works with her clients not only on their physical fitness, but on their spiritual fitness as well. She is empowering and tremendously inspiring. But to be honest I did not expect to find three video clips of her experience of the earthquake online already. Clicking on the first, I watched as Pascale narrated a video of the flooded street outside her house, explaining that the street had literally gotten soft like a sponge as a result of liquefaction. Her second clip, which started with an image of one wall of her house which had completely collapsed on top of her neighbour's car, was titled: We told her not to park her car there. This clip then moved inside Pascale's home. The walls all have huge cracks climbing them like lightening rods. The ceilings are all cracked, the doorways and arches are cracked, and then there was that pesky entire wall that had completely dropped away and collapsed outwards. Pascale and her family had to move down the street to stay with extended family as their house, which had been badly damaged, is now unsafe to inhabit. Her third video clip takes a walk outside to have a look at the creek that is usually a small stream alongside her house. In the clip it had become a large pond that was the colour of gunpowder. Pascale commented on how much more water there was in it, but then she exclaimed, in a bright and cheerful voice: "But the ducks made it! Way to go Trinidad and Tobago!" 

Now I don't know about anyone else, but when your entire city is literally collapsing around you, you have no power or running water, your only car with a full tank of gas is stranded in a parking garage that may or may not still be standing, and all of your work for the week has been canceled, it seems to me like the lives of two ducks would be the last thing on your mind. But there are many reasons why I love this woman, and her endless optimism would definitely be one of them. Hearing her joy at the fact that Trinidad and Tobago made it through the quake made me laugh out loud. And the fact that she has two resident ducks on her property who she had the brilliant idea to name Trinidad and Tobago had me well-amused as well.

Since then, Pascale has gone on to find a well that she can get water from with a bucket, has nominated herself as resident tea-maker for anyone and everyone in the house, and even sat down to enjoy a hot bowl of meat stew with gratitude, despite being a vegetarian. Yes, I would say Pascale is definitely an example of seeing the glass as half full. 

As I moved through my own day, I found myself stopping often and thinking about Pascale and her ability to keep her cool, stay calm and positive and encouraging of others in the face of a tremendous amount of stress. She is someone I have a lot to learn from. As she presses forward into the difficult days and weeks ahead, and tries, along with her fellow community-members, to rebuild her life and her home, I will be praying for her and her fellow New Zealanders. I will also be taking time every day to find my own Trinidad and Tobago. We can't all have ducks, but finding and celebrating the joy, beauty and hope that exist even in the most dire circumstances is definitely within all of our grasp.

The beauty of diversity. The diversity of beauty.

A diverse and beautiful little garden at the bottom of the Baha'i terraces on Mount Carmel, Haifa, Israel

 This evening we had a devotional gathering at our home. We do this twice a month, and so far it has been a women's devotional gathering. We have a different theme every month, and we choose readings from the Baha'i writings and elsewhere that communicate our theme. We share readings and some prayers, and then we open the circle to discussion of the readings, and also ask if anyone brought anything to share that is inspired by the theme. Sometimes people share art. Sometimes music. Sometimes poetry or a story. Tonight our theme was beauty, and the readings were spectacularly beautiful. I will share two of my favourites here:

"Then will aggression crumble away, and all that maketh for disunity be destroyed, and the structure of oneness be raised--that the Blessed Tree may cast its shade over east and west, and the Tabernacle of the singleness of man be set up on the high summits, and flags that betoken love and fellowship flutter from their staffs around the world until the sea of truth lift high its waves, and earth bring forth the roses and sweet herbs of blessings without end, and become from pole to pole the Abha Paradise." -'Abdu'l-Baha

Here is the second reading that I loved:

"O Thou Compassionate God! Bestow upon me a heart, which like unto a glass, may be illumined with the light of Thy love, and confer upon me thoughts which may change this world into a rose-garden through the spiritual bounty. Thou art the Compassionate, the Merciful! Thou art the Great beneficent God!" -'Abdu'l-Baha

You are going to have to use your excellent powers of imagination to visualize the beautiful borders that surrounded these quotes. The women who prepared the readings for tonight's devotional took great care that the presentation of the readings, as well as the words themselves, was beautiful. Each quote was printed on a separate card, and each one had a unique, decorative border. We also had music throughout the program, and live piano at the end.

Another thing that made our "women's devotional" gathering beautiful tonight was the presence of two men! What started off as a mis-communication, led to a man who lives in our neighbourhood turning up at our thus far women's gathering! We used his presence as an excuse to get my father out of his music studio and into the gathering with us. Initially I could tell that a few of us were not sure how this was going to turn out, and whether we would prefer the atmosphere that having a gathering of women created, but as soon as we started, it became quite clear that this was going to be a wonderful evening, and that the presence of two men was going to make it far more beautiful than if it had just been us ladies!

After reading our quotes, we started talking about the ways in which beauty is manifested in the world. I talked about farming and gardening, and the beauty in diversity found in a garden. Cesar, the fellow who joined us this evening, talked about diversity in humanity, and how beautiful the idea of being able to come together despite all of our differences, and work towards common goals together was to him. Jess, a young woman who just started community college, talked about the beauty she sees in nature, and how it is the beauty that is untamed, unaltered, and often kind of unexpected and imperfect that attracts her. Pat, another friend, shared the idea that virtues like love and compassion and joy are like magnets, attracting people towards them, and how beautiful people are when they are practicing virtues in their lives. My dad mentioned how virtues are like an international language that work in every culture. He gave the example of patience, and said that patience is patience in North America, Japan, India, South Africa...spiritual virtues are like a common currency because they speak to us at the level of the soul, which we all share in common.

At the end of the night my dad was coerced into playing an original composition that he had written on the piano, which, of course, was a truly sublime way to end the devotional portion of the evening! He told us, when he finished playing, that he had been at a Baha'i house of worship in Germany many years ago, and fog had been settling all around the building he was in, and how beautiful it was to watch how it covered and then uncovered the landscape, trees and people outside. Just as he was having that thought, he noticed that there was a piano sitting in front of him, and so he sat down at it and composed the song that he played for us tonight. The story made us all smile, because it left very little doubt about the fact that this song was intended to be written. Cesar was especially moved, and mentioned how well the melody captured the magical sensation of fog moving in over the landscape. I have heard my father play this song many times, but I had never heard the accompanying story about how it was composed.

Our lively discussion continued after the closing music, into the social time. We enjoyed cake, cookies and quiche from the Freeport Bakery, and some lovely Darjeeling and apricot black teas that my mom bought today at Tea Cozy. It was a superb evening.

I am sitting here now thinking how invigorating it is to come together and share spiritually inspiring readings, reflections and discussion. How refreshing it is to engage with a group of people at such a deep level, and how centering a gathering around such depth of connection creates such an inspiring spirit of community and joy. I have been having a really tough week, and feeling very isolated and disconnected from community, but our devotional tonight gave me the gift of community and friendship. I am feeling grateful for this beautiful evening, and looking forward to our next devotional gathering, which will be on the theme of hope. I suggested hope because, having been in Canada for the past six years, I always found February to be the toughest month, because it felt like winter was never going to end. Here the idea of mid-winter depression makes me smile, because the weather is so mild, but the Californians in the group nodded knowingly at the idea that we were in the heart of winter, and how far off spring seemed, so even though it feels like winter has not started to me, the theme seemed to resonate for them also. I guess our experience is all relative to what we are used to.

Another thing I am thinking about is how happy I am that we had the men join us this evening. It added so much unexpected beauty to the evening. I loved how flexible and open the women were to having our group change shape for the night, and I am kinda hoping the gentlemen join us again next time!

What do you associate beauty with? What in your life is an expression of beauty? How do you nurture beauty in your surroundings and relationships?

A little winter beauty

We host a women's devotional gathering at our home twice a month. The devotionals have a theme, and guests are asked to bring something with them inspired by the theme. This month our theme is beauty. I shared two things that are beautiful to me. One was an abstract landscape painting called Mandarin Light, by Louise Mould. I will post a photograph of it here if I get her permission to do so (watch this space!). In the meantime, you can see a great deal of the beauty that she adds to the world here. I also shared a poem that I wrote a number of years ago, that is about PEI. It is called One Thing We Must Do.
 

One Thing We Must Do

Red sandstone cliffs tumble soft down to ocean

grasses lean, whisper against my legs. 

A heron pauses perfectly still on one leg, head poised.

It is June, and I have been here long enough to watch winter defeat rusty, golden fall, 

learn to move through snow, slide over ice smooth and bubbled beneath me. 

I have been here long enough to feel the cold slap of wind, see ice thicken over water,

trees become dark naked dancers twisting mournfully against a silvery white landscape. 

I have been here long enough to smell violent perfume of freshly harvested shellfish

that makes me gag and ache simultaneously; 

long enough to admire the awkward grace of the crow,

concede the defeat of the umbrella, feel frozen rain against my face.

I have been here long enough realize that calling this home means learning to co-exist with, open oneself to the elements, recognizing human fragility in the face of nature. 

Here I learn to appreciate simple things:

bright yellow finches outside my window,

aroma of earth from weeks of summer rain,

sensation of sun warming skin after surviving months on memory alone. 

I have been here long enough to appreciate the physical strength of people who at 80

still shovel snow, hands strong, breaths puffing in hushed January air;

to walk home through fields late at night, pale moon lighting the way fearless,

be able to trust darkness as I have not since childhood. 

This island awakens awe, each season has its own distinct boundaries

within which nature flourishes colourful and alive. 

Identity rests in endless miles of gently sloping potato fields,

fishermen who still know stories of discovery, shipwrecks, hidden treasures. 

Who sit and recount of ghost ships that went down, sipping tea,

enveloped in clouds of smoke. 

I have been here long enough to learn to navigate the tightly knit web

of community and judgement – cage and safety net for those not from away.

On this island ecological networks are mirrored in social structure,

everyone knows everyone else, everyone has a specific niche in the system,

individual movement and change resisted by the whole,

unspoken rules are respected. 

Size and isolation nurture a sense of belonging.

Those that stay become vital members of the community–

emigration slackens the taut network of interdependence, is felt by everyone. 

People and place mingle and blur,

inseparable hues of deep cold blue, red clay, sharp green. 

Icicles freeze over crimson berries in winter,

ice breaks too early, rains fall and fall, saturating spring air. 

When fish wash up dead on a beach

it is our food, our fishermen, our farmers, our waters that are sick. 

There can be no detachment, no putting things off ‘til later. 

This land is all there is. 

It is what we depend on for survival, is limited, must be protected.   

Cycles spin. 

Now sun, now snow that blinds, constellations of ice that climb my windows at night, now brilliant golds, mustards, firey blazes of autumn,

now cool pastel blues on ponds we skate on at night. 

It is time to recognize this is finite, delicate, unique. 

I may always be an outsider,

but I have been here long enough to know we must keep this alive. 

Keep the connection with land, with sea, with isolation, story. 

It is not too late if we start now.