December 2011 Newsletter

This newsletter is a publication of the Mystical Order of the White Rose, a multifaith devotional and spiritual support organization. We support and share information about mystical, monastic, contemplative and creative ways of living. We encourage prayer, the reading of sacred scripture(s), lectio divina, meditation, journaling, solitude, fasting, silence, kindness, hospitality, worship, simplicity, creativity, active involvement in spiritual and/or religious communities, and loving service to others. You can view past issues here and you can subscribe to it here .

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This Issue's Theme: A December Sampler

Table of Contents

-- Update by Cynthia Kiteley Lee

-- Poem: Season of Discovery: December by Louise Townsend Nicholl

-- Quotation: "The days of the year have stiffened in coolness...." by Kenneth Patton

-- Poem: Come, Come. You are the life of the inmost soul.... by Rumi

-- Poem: Christmastide by Christiana G. Rossetti

--- Poem: The Wild Rose of Praise by Hakim Sanai

-- Video: Winter Song

-- Poem: The Rose by Gabriel Mistral

-- Quotation: "What keeps our faith cheerful...." by Garrison Keillor

-- Poem: The Cold was Our Pride by Patricia Hampl

-- Varied Resources for Holy Days and Daily Inspiration

Update

And what a time it has been. I have now officially declared myself to be "in overwhelm" and I'm not even inclined to apologize for it. It just is. I suppose you could say I'm in crisis as well, but the situation re: my husband Johnny's massive stroke and hospitalization has gone on since early November, and I suspect a normal crisis wouldn't last that long.

Given the great lateness of this issue, I dispensed with the daily devotionals altogether. Instead, I also have put together a rather slap dash "December Sampler" of poems and quotations from the December daily devotionals

Johnny's and my "former" life was shattered by his stroke, and it's likely that it will never "be put back together again" in the same configuration. Reminds me of the old nursery rhyme:

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall;
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.
All the King's horses
And all the King's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again!

The good news is that Johnny, who has been on life support since early November, now appears to be very close to being able to breathe without a respirator. Once this major milestone is achieved (and it could be just a few days away), he will be able to speak, eat and drink. Some "re-education" may be required for this.

It will be the beginning of the end of the reign of tubes in his life. His food, liquids, medications and urination are all handled by tubes right now.

The next step is that Johnny will be moved from his current acute care hospital to a rehabilitation facility. There is one just three blocks from our home, and I am hoping that he will be placed there-- for both our sakes.

Recovery from a stroke is typically lengthy. There is no guarantee that Johnny will be able to leave institutional care and return home. Only time will tell. He continues to be at high risk for another stroke and/or heart attack and has lost the use of his right arm and hand.

I visit Johnny every day during the work week and take his mother and daughter (neither of whom drive) to visit him on the weekends. My solo visits last about three hours, including driving and visiting time. My weekend family visits take up most of the day. After my solo morning visit, I go to work.

Johnny's son Derrick recently moved back to this part of the world after spending several years in Wisconsin. He has been staying in our guestroom, and his dog Rusty has now bonded with our dog Lil Bit. Derrick has lined up a new home for himself and will probably be moving there in the next week or two.

That's all for now.

Bright Blessings,

Cynthia

Season of Discovery: December

Now that the earth is cold as polished shell

The mind sees inward, and all mortals shall

Find summer as in a mirror deep recurring

And winter dark become transparency.

This is the season of discovery

When men believe, adore; and love has power

To dip sweet water from its inmost well

And reach the heartwood tower of its tree,

Beyond the burr, the bark, to that one core

Which all beloveds are.

- Louise Townsend Nicholl, The Blood That is Language

The days of the year have stiffened in coolness, and darkness is growing upon the land. The season of cold and early dusk is upon us. The sun has retreated down the sky, the living green is forsaking the earth, and the leaves are falling. No longer will the flowers bloom, and the birds flee to the south.

But the people approach the shortened days with gladness, and the ancient fear is no longer on their faces. From darkness will come light, and out of the cold will be born the flaming sun. The frozen soil is no enduring danger, and the heavy death upon the earth is no lasting peril. For the seed is stored in the bins, and the roots in the soil are only sleeping a long sleep.

The people hold the turning of the year as a promise, and the renewing of life is their solid hope. The time of the new year is known, and we ready our houses for the celebration.

Now the sun will again climb the heavens, and henceforth the darkness will be pushed back each day. And the months of cold will give way to the months of leaves and buds, and petals will fall upon the earth.

In the midst of winter the promise is given of the summer season, and in the midst of darkness there comes the assurance of light. In the midst of cold comes a messenger of warmth, and in the days of death there is heard the good news of life.

- Kenneth Patton

Come, come. You are the life of the inmost soul of the whirling dance.

Come. You are the walking cypress

Of the garden of the whirling dance.

Come. No one like you as ever come

Nor ever will come.

Come. The eyes of the whirling dance have never seen

Nor will ever see anyone like you.

Come. Even the source of the sun

Lies in your shadow.

Yours are the galaxies in the sky of the whirling dance.

The whirling ritual sings your praises

With a hundred eloquent tongues;

May I offer a few subtle phrases

In the language of the whirling dance?

In the trance of the whirling dance

You soar beyond both worlds:

For its universe

Lies beyond both worlds.

True, heaven's seventh sphere

Has a high roof over it

But the stairway of the whirling dance

Goes way above it.

Whatever is outside of the Beloved

Trample it, crush it.

Yours is the whirling dance

And all that you are is the whirling dance.

I too put my arms around it.

And take it to my heart when I whirl.

When motes are filled with sunbeams

They all whirl

Without a cry or a moan ---

That is the whirling dance.

Come.

Sun of Tabriz is love incarnate.

The whirling dance goes on and on

Dazed with the marvels of love.

- Rumi

Christmastide

Love came down at Christmas,

Love all lovely, Love Divine;

Love was born at Christmas,

Star and Angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,

Love Incarnate, Love Divine;

Worship we our Jesus;

But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,

Love be yours and love be mine,

Love to God and all men,

Love for plea and gift and sign.

- Christiana G. Rossetti

The Wild Rose of Praise

Those unable to grieve,
or to speak of their love,
or to be grateful, those
who can't remember God
as the source of everything,

might be described as a vacant wind,
or a cold anvil, or a group
of frightened old people.

Say the Name. Moisten your tongue
with praise, and be the spring ground,
waking. Let your mouth be given
its gold-yellow stamen like the wild rose's.

As you fill with wisdom,
and your heart with love,
there's no more thirst.

There's only unselfed patience
waiting on the doorsill, a silence
which doesn't listen to advice
from people passing in the street.

by Hakim Sanai (1044-1150?) Sufi Poet

translated from Persian/Farsi by Coleman Barks

Video: WinterSong

The Rose

The treasure at the heart of the rose
is your own heart's treasure.
Scatter it as the rose does:
your pain becomes hers to measure.

Scatter it in a song,
or in one great love's desire.
Do not resist the rose
lest you burn in its fire.

by Gabriela Mistral 1889-1957; translated from Spanish by Langston Hughes

Source: http://www.poetry-chaikhana.com/M/MistralGabri/Rose.htm Sacred Poetry of the World

What keeps our faith cheerful is the extreme persistence of gentleness and humor. Gentleness is everywhere in daily life, a sign that faith rules through ordinary things: through cooking and small talk, through storytelling, making love, fishing, tending animals and sweet corn and flowers, through sports, music and books, raising kids--all the places where the gravy soaks in and grace shines through. Even in a time of elephantine vanity and greed, one never has to look far to see the campfires of gentle people. Lacking any other purpose in life, it would be good enough to live for their sake.

- Garrison Keillor