By Amy Carr
There were two times today when I felt silence appear like a relaxed release of tight muscles, like a garment that fits just right.
The first was during lectio this morning, when I got caught in a pause after a few lines of reading. It was like entering a sabbath rest, slowing down from rushing about so much all week. I thought: I’d like to walk into a classroom with this kind of stillness, even as I’m getting all animated once class begins. Continue Reading
By Amy Carr
Most of us have been to hear live music — of any sort — in which the performers are entering the atmosphere of the music, creating that grounded sense of space and place that is always there between and around us.
Making music reminds us of its presence, helps us re-enter it, re-sync with it. Continue Reading
Yesterday I found two dead young possums in my yard. Sensing there might be more, I went investigating this morning and found a third. The two I picked up via gloves and a bag yesterday felt warm still (if fly covered), their small bodies flexible. The third I picked up today was stiff. So I am guessing one of the stray cats that claims a stretch of houses on my street probably had great fun slaying them yesterday. Only one possum was bloody, and none had been eaten. Continue Reading
Unexpectedly on Christmas I saw the 1970 movie “Patton,” a nuanced portrayal of General Patton during WWII. Hearing lines from the psalms echo in the background of some solo shots of the General walking across a landscape, it was easy to see his instinctive identification with the ups and downs of David’s own military conquests, his times in and out of exile and being on the run. So now for a time I suspect I’ll be praying in the psalms alongside this image of Patton and all the morally ambiguous values regarding war that he embodied.