Skip to main content

Sunrise Service Has "Gone to the Dogs"

Good morning, congregants and other lovers. I'm having an Easter sunrise service on the back deck with the dogs, God bless them. The sad old phrase, "Gone to the dogs" has a new delightful meaning to me. It usually means things turned out badly, or it referred to people such as criminals and "bad eggs" who were sent away to live among the "lower" creatures as the prodigal son of the Bible did. Here, however, these two beastie boys are my fine, royal guests at the Easter tea table and divine yoga mat designed by Marichit Garcia.





Look here ---  we're hurting all over the world today, but still we find love shining over us. My scripture reading this morning is from a book called For the Love of God: Handbook for the Spirit. This is from the chapter entitled "The Long Journey Home,”by Riane Eisler. The incredible jeweled lotus flower that the Buddha is holding was created by my dear friend Cat Brendel of Head Graffiti Studio: http://unsweetenedmagazine.com/mag/head-graffiti-with-cat-brendel/


And I’m listening to piano music and watching the lovely video that accompanies it.



"I began to see how in prehistoric societies it was much easier to be connected directly to the divine. Everything was divine, including nature. The Goddess gave life, and at death life returned to her womb like the cycle of vegetation, to be reborn. They didn't have our current artificial distinction between spirituality and nature, with man and the spiritual seen as above woman and nature in the hierarchy."


(painting of the goddess Ostara, by Wendy Andrew)

So, on this day that is sacred to many, a celebration of the stone rolled away and a risen Savior, I also celebrate the way the tomb cannot hold the many who have died in recent weeks. Even those "unclaimed" and buried in a potter's field have been claimed by what is holy and relieved from suffering.


I remember the love of Christ, and his gentle spirit, and his sacrifice today, and I honor all the people who are sacrificing their time with their loved ones and putting their lives on the line for others in hospitals and other places. I also remember how Jesus prayed in the garden alone.

It's a little chilly outside this morning, and my toes are cold. I'm going to keep this short and follow the vision of Emily Dickinson, who kept church at home. “The soul selects its own society.”

May your hopes rise... may you feel more alive as you meet this day.

Blessings,

Tamara





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Cicada Song

(borrowed from  Obviously Chloe They're back, and they are mighty --- out in full force, showing off. Cousin to the leafhopper and froghopper, I hear. And while I listen, I am also tuning in to Jubilee Circle , the community church I attend (virtually, at the moment). The service began with a gentle piece on violin. Via Positiva Theme: remaining open. Hearts wide open. One blink away from being fully awake (thank you, Pema Chodron). We need something to wake us up. Drumbeat, sage, find the four directions, and listen to the voices of the cicada. Most of the time it lives underground, growing for years into an adult. Cicadas drink the sap from trees, and in large swarms cause destruction. This year is the once in 17-year mating cycle, according to  Jason Slotkin of NPR.  Cicadas mean summer. They are invested in mating. What is it, friends, that we are investing ourselves in? Does the soul stand a chance in this withering political climate? Have you heard of the cicada kil

Reaping What I Sow

That's the essence of karma, isn't it, and really the core of the golden rule as well: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you... because that's probably how it's going to work out. The hurt we caused years ago may come back to humble us in the form of a humiliating sting or a gaping heart wound today. We often reap what we sow, and it's great in the garden. It can be great in everyday life, in our spiritual work, too, if we are sowing good seeds full of grace and compassion. (painting by  Carol Wisniewski ) I don't know if you've ever caused any pain to other people, but I have --- and I've written about it before, and worked to forgive myself, and all those kinds of spirtual practices, but I still regret it. I've never understood when people say they don't have any regrets. I remember hearing a friend say that once in front of his wife, whom he had hurt terribly at one time -- to the point that they divorced, but later remarrie

When the Roof Caves In...

Two nights ago, while I was sleeping, a heavy rainfall crushed the greenhouse roof, which was not much after all but PVC pipes and plastic. We had a couple of pipes we put in for reinforcement (propped up) when it rained, but we didn't know it was raining, and isn't that just how it goes? The rain comes, the roof falls, while you're sleeping. No fear, congregation. As I was taught, the church isn't the building. It's the creatures who inhabit it, in a spirit of community and grace and all good things. Only a few of the plants were bruised and disorganized, but well glory... everything is alright. Look here, new green shoots, new underfeathering, leaves widening and spreading. We are alive. One of my favorite poems is really a hymn because what is a hymn but an act of praise, a song, a poem? Here's the whole thing (go on... you'll be glad you did):  "Sestina" But oh... this line: Time to plant tears , says the almanac. Yes, time to plant