Journal of Sacred Work

3 responses to “Days 32,33, & 34 – Open Forum”

1. 

   Karen York

   February 1, 2008

   On a rare occasion a few weeks ago, I was alone at my house for several hours. It was an unusually warm pristine day for January so I enjoyed time in my back yard. Gliding back and forth on my swing, the sweet breeze lifted my thoughts and my worries away. Closing my eyes, I listened to the sounds around me. The funny thing about concentrated listening is that the first stage is hearing everything, but really nothing. Yet, the longer you listen, the world comes alive in ways you won’t notice at first. With the rare sound of the chirping bird, or barking dog, most of the noise was from some kind of engine – lawn mower, car, school bus, construction truck, airplane. The deeper I fell into listening, I wondered how the earth sounded before the invention of the engine. In our day, it’s difficult to escape. Even in the depths of the Grand Canyon, you will hear an occasional helicopter.
   Without the noise of engines, would we notice the sound of a blade of grass as it turns to face the sun? What about the earthworm inching through the soil? Would we hear God whispering our names in the breeze?
   David Whyte says in the “Winter of Listening” – …All those years forgetting how easily you can belong to everything simply by listening.”
   I want to hear what the world is telling me today. In the midst of our engine-driven world, peace and love lie in the heart of listening.

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2. 

   liz Wessel

   February 1, 2008

   What a beautiful reflection of a beautiful spirit Karen, I feel blessed in reading what you have shared. From my heart to yours, I say, thank you! 🙂
   I would like to share something of my journaling experience from long ago. Last night I was reading a journal that I began in my late teens. I wrote in it often for a few years. Curiously, what I noticed is that my entries abruptly stopped when my brother Philip was killed in a car crash. It was six months before I made an entry to reveal that my brother had died. Another year passed before I wrote again. This time I described my perceptions and grief response of each member of my family and how they seemed to be coping over time. A few more entries and then my journal writing days were over.
   I came across these words I wrote when I was seventeen (unrelated to Philip’s death.) I vividly remember sitting on a bench on the town common, as day turned into night in Brattleboro, Vermont.
   I am a silvery tin can
   cold autumn winds roll me
   along the silent streets
   and in the darkness
   all that I can hear
   is the soft tinkling sounds
   I make, as I go

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3. 

   Shirley Irby RN

   February 5, 2008

   “how easily you can belong to everything simply by listening.” I will enjoy listening today. Thanks Karen for this wonderful insight. And Liz I can see you setting as the sun sets and hear that can as it rolls along so clearly. Thank You. Remember to vote today and often.

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