close to the ground

Life in the desert is not easy. It does not offer moderate temperatures to please the human desire for comfort nor abundant water to quench inevitable thirst. The caves that offer shelter likely don’t provide a soft place to lay tired bodies. And yet, the desert abbas and ammas sought out these conditions, believing they would find new and abundant life—even where life seemed impossible. We invite you to take a few breaths and to slowly and contemplatively read this passage from Howard Thurman’s Meditations of the Heart, in which he describes an encounter in another kind of mountain wilderness

It was above the timber line. The steady march of the forest had stopped as if some invisible barrier had been erected beyond which no trees dared move in a single file. Beyond was barrenness, sheer rocks, snow patches and strong untrammeled winds. Here and there were short tufts of evergreen bushes that had somehow managed to survive despite the severe pressures under which they had to live. They were not lush, they lacked the kind of grace of the vegetation below the timber line, but they were alive and hardy. Upon close investigation, however, it was found that these were not ordinary shrubs. The formation of the needles, etc., was identical with that of the trees further down; as a matter of fact, they looked like branches of the other trees. When one actually examined them, the astounding revelation was that they were branches. For, hugging the ground, following the shape of the terrain, were trees that could not grow upright, following the pattern of their kind. Instead, they were growing as vines grow along the ground, and what seemed to be patches of stunted shrubs were rows of branches of growing, developing trees. What must have been the torturous frustration and the stubborn battle that had finally resulted in this strange phenomenon! It is as if the tree had said, “I am destined to reach for the skies and embrace in my arms the wind, the rain, the snow and the sun, singing my song of joy to all the heavens. But this I cannot do. I have taken root beyond the timber line, and yet I do not want to die; I must not die. I shall make a careful survey of my situation and work out a method, a way of life, that will yield growth and development for me despite the contradictions under which I must eke out my days. In the end I may not look like the other trees, I may not be what all that is within me cries out to be. But I will not give up. I will use to the full every resource in me and about me to answer life with life. In so doing I shall affirm that this is the kind of universe that sustains, upon demand, the life that is in it.” I wonder if I dare to act even as the tree acts. I wonder! I wonder! Do you?

                     Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart (Beacon Press: 1999), 123-124

                     Richard Rohr (meditation 1/25/2020

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This morning

as on many mornings lately

I did not want to get out of bed

call it depression

call it despair

call it hopelessness

the world seems stunted and barren these days

and only the limbic mewing of the cats

and the unbounded enthusiasm of my  dog

drag me

even while darkness lingers

into the barren and uneven terrain of a new day

I am tired to the bone these day

Tired of the vindictiveness,

The lust for retribution

The need to win

To dominate and control

I am tired of

the evil

the duplicity

the hypocrisy

the greed

the abuse of power

the lost of justice

the growing inequity

the racism

the fear

the hate

and yet

if I look

closely

near the ground

I see caring and kindness

Compassion and generosity

Grimly hanging one

Their roots clinging desperately

To the hearts people

Who in such an inhuman world

Would be fully human

Children of God

Bearers of the Sacred

Reflection of the divine image

There close to the ground

As the winds of hate blow

And the freezing power of greed oppresses

And people obsessed with power

Discarding all semblance of honesty, and integrity

call evil good and good evil

and stunt all that is sacred

There close to the ground

Love grows

Tortured and oppressed

But still alive

Striving toward the light

There close to the ground

People sit by the side of dying friends

And listen to hurting friends

And do acts of random kindness

And welcome the stranger

And wrap the vulnerable in acceptance and compassion

And love lives

So I will not give up

And I will seek

With every fiber of my being

And with the help of the Sacred Presence

Which lurks in my soul

To answer life with life