About today's post: I read a poem this morning in my August poetry book1 about an assignment to write a short essay from the perspective of something in the kitchen. In the poem, she wrote an essay about a sifter2-it became a powerful image for her over the next year. I wasn't clear about what to write for tonight, so I started thinking, what if I took a book off my shelf, opened it to the first line I saw, and wrote about it? Here we are.
I pulled the book Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion by Father Gregory Boyle from my bookshelf. I flipped through and stopped on the first underlined phrase that caught my eye, on page 111, "Change awaits us. What is decisive is our deciding."
But I'm not going to write about that! The second underlined section I found feels like the right one for today.
"Thich Nhat Hahn writes that "our true home is the present moment, the miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment.” The ancient Desert Fathers, when they were disconsolate and without hope, would repeat one word, over and over, as a kind of soothing mantra. And the word wasn't "Jesus” or "God" or "Love." the word was "Today." It kept them where they needed to be."
-Father Gregory Boyle (pg 159) Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
Both practices, walking on the green earth and the mantra "today, today, today," feel like smaller and deeper practices.
Smaller because they are simple but profound in their simplicity. Reciting today, today, today doesn't require twenty minutes or even a pen, just two syllables!
Deeper because in clarity, depth is revealed. Something in both of these reminders tugs at our heart and soul with the gentler reminder to present ourselves present in our messy, complicated, glorious lives.
The miracle isn't to walk on water; it's to walk on the green earth. Miracles are those unexplainable, exciting events that challenge what we know to be true, where our imagination is invited to consider what if. The miracle isn't walking on water; it's walking here, today, on my path, in my neighborhood, with my people and pets. That is the miracle? What if I believed the miracle wasn't unexplainable magic, but my breath, my place, my feet on the ground, every-day-life?
Over the past several months, I've read more about the desert mothers and fathers. These mysterious men and women left comfort and kingdom to pursue a different sort of life, wisdom, companionship, and growth in desert caves and small communities. They became the forbears of the monastic movement, and their learning still echoes.
It seems so interesting and thought-provoking to hear that love wasn't their mantra, and God wasn't their word of comfort.
The word that was their soothing mantra was today?
Today
Today
Today
Today
A simple two-syllable word was how they soothed their desolate souls in times when hope was hard to find? What makes the desert mother and fathers so interesting is the sayings are simple, not long or eloquent-and yet…They are smaller and deeper!
My attention is so often distracted and directed away from today. It is planning for tomorrow and regrets from yesterday that occupy my mind. The two-syllable mantra today feels wise in its simplicity. As Father Boyle said, today keeps me where I need to be.
A Blessing…
Amid travels, trials, over-booked calendars, and crummy customer service, may you be reminded that you are not waiting for the miracle; you are living the miracle. When your life feels empty, bare, and hope is hard to find, may today, today, today, now, now, now be a mantra that soothes and holds you right where you need to be.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
Several months ago, I added this book to my library queue when it was part of a list of books banned by a local school district. People spoke of this book in several conversations like everyone had read it. It's a coming-of-age book that came out a few years after I graduated from college; I missed it because I wasn't the target audience when it came out. The day it came in from the library, I was with a young woman getting ready to start her senior year of college, and she told me it was her favorite book ever. So, I had to read this book.
It's the story of Charlie's freshman year of high school, written in letters to an unknown person. Charlie is a delightful and wonderful character who quickly wins over the reader with compassion and insight. I enjoyed the book; it's teenage angst, coming-of-age novel, which is not my favorite genre.
I'm glad I read it, it's not my favorite book, but it's a good book.
We missed July (it’s the first month we’ve missed since we started this project several years ago!). I LOVE these conversations. If you haven’t taken 30 minutes or so to listen in, I hope you will this month. I loved Davin’s haiku about summer unraveling (it’s so timely for right this moment in the year.)
You can see each of our July Haikus here at Profound Living (make sure you subscribe, what Michael writes is always worthwhile!)
Words to ponder is a weekly invitation to slow down and read with intention and curiosity. Not just read the words, but let the words read you. Notice how you respond to words and phrases and listen with the ears of your heart to see if the words are inviting you to a new way of seeing or being.
Tonight I’ve chosen a few more passages from Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion by Father Gregory Boyle. As always, read each passage slowly. Notice if any word or phrase stands out to you. Is there an invitation or insight the text is asking you to see? Maybe jot it down on a piece of paper or take a screen shot and carry it on your phone this week.
“Here is what we seek: a compassion that can stand in awe at what the poor have to carry rather than stand in judgment at how they carry it.”
― Gregory Boyle, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
“Mother Teresa diagnosed the world's ills in this way: we've just "forgotten that we belong to each other." Kinship is what happens to us when we refuse to let that happen.”
― Greg Boyle, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
“Teilhard de Chardin wrote that we must "trust in the slow work of God." Ours is a God who waits. Who are we not to? It takes what it takes for the great turnaround. Wait for it.”
― Greg Boyle, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
“There is no force in the world better able to alter anything from its course than love. Ruskin's comment that you can get someone to remove his coat more surely with a warm, gentle sun than with a cold, blistering wind is particularly apt.”
― Greg Boyle, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
Apparently, FDR had a sign on his desk that read: “Let unconquerable gladness dwell.” Our search to know what’s on God’s mind ends in th discovery of this same unconquerable gladness. Dorothy Day loved to quote Ruskin, who urged us all to the “Duty to Delight.” It was an admonition really, to be watchful for the hilarious and the heartwarming, the silly and the sublime. This way will not pass again, and so there is a duty to be mindful of that which delights and keeps joy at the center, distilled from all that happens to us in a day.
― Greg Boyle, Tattoos on the Heart: The Power of Boundless Compassion
I'm trying to read a book of poetry every month this year. I missed June and July, but I’m restarting in August! My poetry book this month is: A Maze Me: Poem for Girls by Naomi Shihab Nye
https://www.ayearofbeinghere.com/2013/11/naomi-shihab-nye-sifter.html (Read the entire poem here)