I live by a creek, Tinker Creek, in a valley in Virginia’s Blue Ridge. The creeks- Tinker and Carvin’s- are an active mystery, fresh every minute. Theirs is the mystery of the continuous creation and all that providence implies: the uncertainty of vision, the horror of the fixed, the dissolution of the present, the intricacy of beauty, the pressure of fecundity, the elusiveness of the free, and the flawed nature of perfection….Annie Dillard
we are so close to the truth…it lives in us and through the mystery of all things….it is relentless, conscious and cyclical…..full of metaphors, dependent on stories, and branching into humility…it is the heart of soul…..it is who we are…..
What practices help you to experience the fountain flowing within you? What are the ways in which you experience the rise and fall of your creative energies? Do you live in fear that there will not be more inspiration? In this season are you being called to renew yourself or extend your gifts into this world?…………
The 12th century mystic and Benedictine abbess Hildegard of Bingen coined the tern viriditas (literally greenness), by which she meant the greening power of God. Hildegard used the term to refer to the literal reality of the earth’s greening and fecundity, but also to the soul’s greening. The moister and greener a soul is, the more deeply it is connected to its sacred source. Hildegard’s emphasis on greenness symbolizes the inner dynamism of life in all its burgeoning growth, vibrancy, freshness, and fecundity as emanating from the life-creating power of God. It expresses her vision of God as the source, sustainer, and energizer of all life- cosmic, human, angelic, and celestial. The soul knows its health by its own degree of moistness and how it receives this sacred, nourishing water from God……..Christine Valters Paintner
The rain I am in is not like the rain of the cities. It fills the woods with an immense and confused sound. It covers the flat roof of the cabin and porch with insistent and controlled rhythms. And I listen, because it reminds me again and again that the whole world runs by rhythms. I have not yet learned to recognize, rhythms that are not those of the engineer. I came up here from the monastery last night, sloshing through the cornfield, said Vespers, and put some oatmeal on the Coleman stove for supper. It boiled over while I was listening to the rain and toasting a piece of bread at the log fire. The night became very dark. The rain surrounded the whole cabin with its enormous virginal myth, a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, of silence, of rumor. Think of it: all that speech pouring down, selling nothing, judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the wood with water, washing out the places where men have stripped the hillside! What a thing it is to sit absolutely alone, in the forest, at night, cherished by this wonderful, unintelligible, perfectly innocent speech, the most comforting speech in the world, the talk that rain makes by itself all over the ridges, and the talk of the watercourses everywhere in the hollows….Thomas Merton