Saturday, May 2, 2015

May Day Morning Meditation

“The disciples were full of questions about God.

Said the Master, “God is Unknown, the Unknowable. Every statement about Him, every answer to your questions, is a distortion of the Truth.”

The disciples were bewildered. “Then why do you speak about Him at all?”

“Why does the bird sing?” said the Master.
Not because he has a statement, but because he has a song.
The words of the Scholar are to be understood. The words of the Master are not to be understood. They are to be listened to as one listens to the wind in the trees and the sound of the river and the song of the bird. They will awaken something within the heart that is beyond all knowledge.”

     - “The Song of the Bird”
         Anthony de Mello S. J.

The pilgrim wonders if this bird singing before the first light of day proclaims or celebrates the forthcoming illumination and warmth. He meditates in questions. Is it a song of anticipating something really great and magnificent? Is it the song of farewell to the darkness and aloneness of night? Is it an aria of hope and gratitude? Is this a prayer that echoes my own heart’s yearning? Does gaining any understanding of the motivation of this song or the nature of this feathered co-pilgrim make a difference in life?  Listening to the wind or being present to the simple gentle swaying of the new born leaves in the not quite dawn mystically fills a void in a way no other experience can fuel his fire with a genuine equanimity of love.

The absence of the sweet morning songs during the previous barren grey season is quickly consigned to oblivion. Seasons change. Impermanence. The swift V formation of geese gliding piercing the morning sky celebrate as they honk their way north while the union gulls are diligent in their work effortlessly making their announcement that the tide is in and the beach is now ready to welcome sun and sea worshippers alike.

An unseen owl continues her repeating query as the pilgrim attempts to let go and let the May morning fill his soul. “No more questions,” he says. “No answers .No solutions.” Being present without distraction is truth, is life. After what seemed to be an endless wait-filled moratorium the morning sun finally makes her unpretentious yet majestic appearance above the horizon on the ocean of mercy. The pilgrim exhales and is humbled and free , 

Morning Phase - Beck ( Smart phones click on link)


Will there really be a morning – Conspirare ( Smart phones click on link)

Morning Poem

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into leaves again

and fasten themselves to the high branches ---
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere.
And if your spirit
carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead ---
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging ---

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted ---

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

  - Mary Oliver


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