Journal of Sacred Work

[Note: The following meditation was written by Cathy Self, Sr. V.P. of the Baptist Healing Trust]

   This space is dedicated to you, the caregiver, hoping that
you will be refreshed, renewed, and sometimes, re-awakened. I remember how
easily it was to awaken our daughter in the early mornings with a quiet word or
gentle touch. Our son, on the other hand, needed far more dramatic actions to
ensure a fully awakened state. In the meditations offered in the Journal, I am
often able to experience full engagement in response to the quiet word and
gentle imagery. Occasionally, however, my soul has retreated or become so
distracted that what may appear to others to be harsh or jolting is exactly
what I need to be fully re-awakened and engaged. I found myself both surprised
and jolted recently as I read a meditation written by Dr. Wayne Dyer…*(above photo) 

   Much of my surprise arose from Dyer’s use of imagery
describing a place I have just this summer journeyed to, a small stone chapel
in Assisi. The chapel is where St.
Francis encountered peace and joy in the presence of a loving and faithful God.
Its stones and simple form have been preserved and are now surrounded by a much
larger and highly ornate cathedral. Walking through the cathedral the eye is
drawn to high ceilings, massive columns, exquisite frescoes and beautifully
carved marble. Sitting in the middle of this busy and visually loud environment
is the small stone chapel where St. Francis once prayed.
   The chiesetta
(little church) of Porziuncola (Italian for "Little portion"), as
this small chapel is referred to, is the most sacred place for Franciscans.
Francis was given this little church, dating from the 9th century, by the Benedictine
monks. The little church has since been exquisitely decorated by artists from
different periods. Its interior, however, is simple and plain, as Francis
himself sought to live. Stepping into the quiet, cool space where St. Francis
once knelt, I felt a calming and centering of my soul. My eyes rested on simple
furnishings, my heart felt open and ready, my busy mind suddenly focused and at
peace. 
   In his
writing, Wayne Dyer referred to a quote from Herman Melville’s Moby Dick: “For as this appalling ocean
surrounds the verdant land, so in the soul of man there lies one insular place on Tahiti, full of peace and joy, but encompassed by all the
horrors of the half-lived life.” For
Wayne Dyer, stepping out of the opulence and largess of the surrounding
cathedral and into the small, quiet little church was an experience of stepping
into Melville’s insular Tahiti, full of peace
and joy.
   For Dyer, and in my own
experience, the small, original little church represents the soul, a place of
divine truth and bliss. The surrounding edifice, suggests Dyer, is like our
physical body – always a step removed from the beauty and truth that reside in
the center. A half-lived life, as described by both Melville and Dyer, is one
in which we do not get to that inner place of peace and joy, that “insular Tahiti." When,
as caregivers, we are able to regularly visit that center, that core, we are
able to experience the peace and joy that comes from a life fully lived.
   The
half-lived life is, instead, lived in the outer structures and trappings of the
outer world or tasks and lists. Melville and Francis
recognized the vital importance of stepping out of the world and into that
insular Tahiti  that resides deep within each
one of us. Will we dare to step from the frantic search into inner knowing?
What does your heart need most today? What is the insular Tahiti
within that beckons you to visit? Will you give yourself the much deserved, and
perhaps much needed permission to explore your center with fresh eyes and an
open heart? I hope so.
   Wishing
peace and all good to each of you
today.

* from
“Wisdom of the Ages.”