Mary, Holiness Was Born in You!

Grotto at Massabielle in Lourdes, France

Mary,

Soon the babe comes

As the world waits;

Make us ready;

To walk in holiness;

To remember the fallen;

To think of the lost;

To give to the needing;

to forgive the unrepentant;

to bless the arrogant--

Seeing Christ

in a babe

in a boy

in a teen

in a man

and 

in myself;

Our candles are lit;

we bow our heads;

holiness walks with me

Because Holiness 

was born in you.

By Connie Nelson Ahlberg

Inspired by Our Lady,

Advent & JCA

Dec. 12, 2012

Caressing the Earth

Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library - Wikipedia

People with

A magnanimous spirit

Caress the Earth

With their feet.

1994 Connie Nelson Ahlberg 

All Rights Reserved

Norman's A Best Friend

Norman Vincent Peale's Thought Conditioners

A handwritten Bible on display in Malmesbury Abbey in Wiltshire England.

The Bible was written in Belgium in 1407 AD for reading aloud in a monastery.

The photograph was taken by Adrian Pingstone in 2005. 

Years ago a kind and wise woman saw I was struggling. We worked together. Betty had a real job and mine was on the lowest rung. Betty slipped a diminutive booklet under my elbow. It was Norman Vincent Peale's Thought Conditioners, 40 Biblical phrases to lift and inspire. 

In my years in a Catholic school we didn't quite do the Bible study the way many in the Protestant faiths do. Part of me feels the Church didn't want us "to trouble our minds," when they could think for us. Those were the days one heard "Holy Mother Church," often. Of course, such a title made one want to genuflect. There was a lot of kneeling in those days.

Yet when my co-worker gave me the small booklet, I didn't know what to make of it. But I started carrying the booklet around; I started relying on the words when I needed comfort. Certain phrases lifted me like "You are the refreshing," Peale's 37th scriptural verse. Peace assured.

This morning all the quotes seem to take me to a deeper level. Life is such a mystery; you never know when you'll feel a preverbial poke in your ribs or the Buddhist's shout, the Buddhist slap: Wake up! Wake up your life! 

I've started to see quotes on Facebook for those who are going through hard times during the holidays. The phrase I read repeatedly, "for those who are hurting." I feel many are more than hurting. 

Family health news keeps no calendar. Stunning news comes any time, wreath or no. I just embraced someone I've come to love in my condo building. She is bereft with grief. No one has just died but unless mircles ride my rosary, in a few months, her brother in-law will. 

"Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Who doesn't labor and seek rest? This is Peale's Thought Condition 4.

It's a different view where I live now verses my home just behind me and over a hill. More shiny walkers over here, cranberry, shiny royal blue, ones to carry parcels or the driver herself. You ought to see how deft women are wielding these carts around! 

Someone needs these verses. Someone needs the little booklet. Maybe it's you, maybe it's me.

As I hugged my neighbor I said something which startled a revered member of Clouds in Water Zen Center, my words: Sometimes I truly wish we could get out of here alive! 

A little humor, the sun is shining. And I just bought 5 lbs of seeded grapes. I bow to your  innate goodness; never worry, if I know you, then you're on my beads--. I have a tendency to scoop people up in prayer. How else should we live?

Speak the language of Compassion; everyone understands.

Link to Thought Conditioners: http://www.drcolvard.com/thtcond.pdf

Tokyo in December

Tokyo Tower - Wikipedia

With a suddenness that still leaves me gasping, I'm booked for my long-awaited trip to Japan. It's a trip I've put off. Procrastination overtook my mind after hearing and learning of long flights over water, drop-dead jet lag, and concern about my weight and being forced to see Tokyo by foot. I saw myself panting behind my 18 month-old grandson.

I know I'm not in shape to climb steps to endless shrines, even though I should be. Do I fast until I get there? I was seeking a lean day yesterday, but then ended up eating too much Vigo red beans and rice (with cheap cheese from Costco).

A niece in Madison has a "Fit Pick" and is as fit as her pick. Yesterday I purchased the Weight Watcher tool that tracks your activity: I thought it would be a great motivator--or cattle prod! (Call it a motion detector for my _ _ _.)

My son said, "Mom, our apartment is just behind the tall building to the left of Tokyo Tower." 

And there they've lived: dad, mom, and two blond offspring, leaning into Asian life as the Buddhists advise. 

Kind residents have bowed to my 6'5" fair-framed son and my equally fair granddaughter. The tall and much shorter ex-pat have purchased French croissants at a bakery, and then sat on a bench. Passersby heard a little voice say: "On Wisconsin!" 

I've howled upon seeing slender Japanese women kneel to get a shot of granddaughter Kjerstin like paparazzi encircling Madonna. My son explained to me that my granddaughter was seen as a pale, blond doll to her admirers. (Now that she's four, the paparazzi have dissipated.)

I've followed my son and daughter in-law's blog and seen what looks like a small octopus-like appetizer move onto a restaurant table when you put hot sauce on it. I've read signs and t-shirts with awkward phrasing since some shop owners want English on signs or shirts but aren't quite sure of their meaning. But since I know virtually no Japanese, they lead me linguistically.

I've admire how my son's family have studied the Japanese language, gone to festivals, and been invited to weddings. It's a morning ritual to hear my son call a cab in Japanese.  I hear "hai," but know it's not hi as we know it. More yes, okay, or hm. My daughter in-law discovered, too, that addresses on buildings don't relate to how we number buildings in the West, which left her in utter frustration. 

I may be calmer today, but it is too early to say. I'm hopeful. After all, a poet in Tokyo can't be all bad.

With loving kindness my son informs me he's taking the first week off to be with me after I arrive. I tell him I'm a tuning fork. He counters with: I can help. 

Easy Japanesey he says. 

Gift of the Day: God as Artist

Bald eagle with fish from Kodiak, Alaska by Yathin S Krishnappa
Wikipedia

I thought I was alone. I was driving along Hwy 61 in northeast Minnesota, following the road along Lake Superior's shore north of Silver Bay. 

My eyes kept looking out across the lake because there was a lovely light, not so much spectacular, as soft and compelling near the horizon. It lifted the day after northeasters had moved out. 

I had only to turn to the left to enjoy the view: the lake, the trees, stark as they were, like God's brooms stuck on end.

Suddenly my eyes were drawn upward in a tree. I saw an immense nest. In the nest was a ever-watchful, majestic eagle, taller than one would imagine. His brilliant, white head held all splendor with the unmistakable beak like a profile posing.

I couldn't believe it. I'm not an Albrecht Durer, yet there it was: God as artist. 
The eagle seemed to be musing and not in the hunt at the moment: the outline of this treasured aves looking south, the direction I was going.

I wonder if the link between man and the eagle, between woman and eagle, is that each of us has a four-chambered heart. 

Along with beauty and wonder, the eagle carries courage and transcendence. I take grace from the splendor in the nest. And I shall keep it near - as near as Great Spirit soars in nature.

O magnificent bird, help me carry courage, and embolden me with your four-champered in fearless flight through all my days and nights.

To Be A Light

Karl Bodmer - Maximilian, Prince of Wied's Travels                                                                 in the Interior of North America - Wikipedia                                             To Be A Light

To be a light!

To be a beacon bright!

What is the Gospel

According to you?

Beauteous psalmic verses

From courage we sought

And drew

As we walk 

In our day:

Do we leave others wondering:

What is the Gospel

According to you?

It isn't enough to read it;

Say prayers memory feeds it;

Then meditate

On cushion or kneeler when you're blue;

It's the belief in honoring

Each other: 

Living the scripture--
Becomes the Gospel

According to you;

Position, fame, wealth, appearance,

Don't really matter,

If Grace isn't left

After all we do;

It's a humbling walk I grant you;

What tears and knees have wrought too, 
Whether Allah, David, 

  Christ or Buddha

In our dwelling we view;

 It's how we treat each other--
That's our book and cover:

 That scripture
The Gospel
   That follows you.

Written Nov 8, 2012

After serving on a committee

By Connie Nelson Ahlberg

Pool Sanctuary

Pool Sanctuary

I awoke this morning with a start. The phone off the hall in the bath woke me. I had been up at 4 A.M. and had gone back to bed. The sound was glaring.

Eleven o'clock is my buddy-swim time. At age 65 I am swimming for my health with another condo resident. It's too early to talk I said to myself. I can't move. I didn't want to talk at all, having called Minneapolis residents for the Presidential race just the night before.

Still, Janice, my swimming buddy, age 80.5, could be down at the condominium pool, hoping I'd join her. At 11:30 I made my way down the hall. No walker in the hallway, meant no Janice in the pool. 

I was sinning anyway. I'd made a strong pot of coffee in clear violation of the
NO FOOD OR DRINKS sign on the wall. I had my brew hidden under my towel. Rules were made...

I set everything down on one of the tables. The pool water barely moved...only a little--like a human breathing. I had entered my sanctuary, my pool sanctuary. Sometimes a boxelder bug makes it's way inside and decides to take a dip. But no little insect legs were skimming the top. I was alone. It was delicious. 

As I descended the stairs into the water, the feel of the water felt cool, cooler than normal. Janice wouldn't have liked it. To keep the vigil, I didn't turn the lights on.

I let my body make it's own ripples, loving the sound. The woods outside the windows is the backdrop I love. Now fewer leaves against a gray sky. 

Thinking of recent horrific events on the East coast, I think of the craziness of metropolitan living, our manic use of cell phones, our demand for services.

I think of the one poem of mine my son said he likes. Inspired by the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu I wrote:

Desiring everything

You have nothing;

Desiring nothing,

You have everything;

Ride the train and you lose the landscape;

Walk the path and become

Part of the flowers;

Swim fiercely

And the waves are choppy;

Float and the water 

Caresses your limbs;

Truth is the root

Of a very large tree:

Sit in it's branches

And embrace--the shade.

I say the words in water.

It's easier to pray when you're alone. So the Catholic litany begins, mostly the familiar Act of Contrition, then the St. Francis Prayer, but whatever comes. I pray for those fighting cancer, a friend I haven't heard of in a long time, my brother, my brother in-law and those grieving his passing. I don't want to leave anyone out, but invariably I do. I'm comforted, happy, when each name needing prayers comes to me. 

I do my backstroke praying from end to end. God swims with me, maybe Buddha, too. (Dear Thich Nhat Hanh says: If you ask Buddha to come, he comes right away.) Come Healing Buddha.

As Yogi Paramahansa Yogananda said: God is everything.