International Day of Solidarity with the Palestinian People

“A true Arab knows how to catch a fly in his hands,”
my father would say. And he’d prove it,
cupping the buzzer instantly
while the host with the swatter stared.
In the spring our palms peeled like snakes.
True Arabs believed watermelon could heal fifty ways.
I changed these to fit the occasion.
Years before, a girl knocked,
wanted to see the Arab.
I said we didn’t have one.
After that, my father told me who he was,
“Shihab”—“shooting star”—
a good name, borrowed from the sky.
Once I said, “When we die, we give it back?”
He said that’s what a true Arab would say.
Today the headlines clot in my blood.
A little Palestinian dangles a truck on the front page.
Homeless fig, this tragedy with a terrible root
is too big for us. What flag can we wave?
I wave the flag of stone and seed,
table mat stitched in blue.
I call my father, we talk around the news.
It is too much for him,
neither of his two languages can reach it.
I drive into the country to find sheep, cows,
to plead with the air:
Who calls anyone civilized?
Where can the crying heart graze?
What does a true Arab do now?”

Naomi Shihab Nye

“Mirth is better than fun, and happiness is better than mirth. I feel that a man may be happy in this world. And I know that this world is a world of imagination and vision. I see every thing I paint in this world, but everybody does not see alike. To the eyes of a miser a guinea is far more beautiful than the Sun, and a bag worn with the use of money has more beautiful proportions than a vine filled with grapes. The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing which stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity, and by these I shall not regulate my proportions; and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself. As a man is, so he sees.”

William Blake (1757 – 1827), born on this day

“for years we have been told that home is where the heart is
~ but I don’t think that’s true
home is where our lungs are my love,
whenever I get lost in the wilds of the world
and I can’t find my way
I inhale
so slowly
~ so deeply
and suddenly I’m right back at home
because I was born out of the holy breath of the Divine
as were you, my love, as were you
the breath of Mystery is our eternal home
the place we existed long before we ever existed
an angel once told me that we were formed so carefully
while we rested in the gusting womb of the Great Love’s sacred gale
our home is the place where Source gently exhaled us into existence
we were created out the of holiest of thin air to become dandelion seeds
moving in the currents of adventure
carrying us from one horizon to the next
~ and whenever the storms of this world become too much for us to endure
~ whenever the woods become so dark that we can no longer see the sky
~ whenever we get so lost in the wilderness that the compass we are holding
turns into sand between our fingers
~ whenever we find ourselves so homesick
that we can’t remember what it feels like to be safe
we can just breathe a big fat breath and hold it
in our chest for a couple moments and suddenly my love,
~ so very suddenly we return home we go right back to where we first started
to the gusting cottage of God’s endless love for us
because the same air that passes through our trembling lips and into our lungs
is the exact same air that Creation breathed on you
when you sparked out of the void
so, my love, when you lose your way out here in the swirl
and you’re so desperate to return home
~ to the familiar place where you felt so safe
~ to the warm dwelling where you knew everything about yourself
~ to the cradle where nothing could ever harm you
you don’t have to click your heels or buy a plane ticket or make a wish
you just have to breathe with purpose
and treat the air inside of you as if it were a prayer
and when you exhale that held breath oh my love,
when you exhale you’ll come back home”

John Roedel, contemporary poet

“O Holy One, we thank you for human love,
where, in true caring for another,
the divine shines through the human;
we thank you for love’s power
to transfigure and to heal,
for life’s enrichment
in work well done for love’s sake,
for beauty, wherein we may see and feel
your radiance
within and around us.
Give us to seek and to find
everywhere and in all things
the beauty of your presence.”

Bruce Findlow, Unitarian minister and Principal of Manchester College Oxford 1974-1985, quoted in Fragments of Holiness for Daily Reflection

“The Fianna was the prestigious war band of the hero Fionn mac Cumhail, whose honour was bound up in their maintenance of truth, as their motto says; “Truth in our hearts, strength in our hands, consistency upon our tongues.”

If we divert truth in pursuit of our ambitions, however marginal the lie, we also divert the course of our honour; we weaken our soul’s thread. It is often easier to lie than to admit the truth. To state our honest objections, to cut across the dishonesty of those with whom we associate, to challenge falsehood in the workplace or in high places may seem a kind of foolhardiness today.

The practice of honesty is a daily exercise that hones our integrity. In both trivial and important actions, the experienced truth-bearer is like a hero who has practised her sword strokes so many times that she can cleave though thistledown with accuracy and perception.

The integrity of truth offers us a clean way of dealing in our lives – a way of dealing that sets down better and more honourable patterns upon which our society can be reformed.”

Caitlin Matthews

“Whenever you experience the pangs of losing something, don’t treat it like a part of yourself, but as a breakable glass, so when it falls you will remember that and won’t be troubled. So too, whenever you kiss your child, sibling, or friend, don’t layer on top of the experience all the things you might wish, but hold them back and stop them, just as those who ride behind triumphant generals remind them they are mortal. In the same way, remind yourself that your precious one isn’t one of your possessions, but something given for now, not forever..”

From the Discourses of Epictetus (50 – 135)

“There is no end to the war and death caused by man or to the tears shed by all the innocent victims of such tragedies. What were all these for? Only for conquering, establishing superiority and satisfying our greed for money and fame. Mankind has taken upon itself countless curses. In order to attain freedom from these curses, at least a hundred generations to come should wipe the tears of the suffering, striving to console them and alleviate their pain. At least now, as an atonement, shouldn’t we try to introspect?

.. We must turn inwards to search deep within ourselves. “Is my heart still vibrant with life? Can I still experience the source of love and compassion within me? Does my heart still melt at the pain and sorrow of others? Have I cried along with those who are suffering? Have I really tried to wipe another’s tears to console them or given someone at least a single meal or a set of clothing?” Like this, we can honestly introspect. Then the soothing moonlight of compassion will spontaneously shine within our minds.”

Mātā Amritanandamayī Devi

Feast Day of St Cecilia, patron saint of music

“Don’t let yourself forget
that God’s grace rewards
not only those who never slip,
but also those who bend and fall.
So sing!
The song of rejoicing softens hard hearts.
It makes tears of godly sorrow flow from them.
Singing summons the Holy Spirit.
Happy praises offered in simplicity and love
lead the faithful to complete harmony,
without discord.
Don’t stop singing.”

Hildegard von Bingen (1098 – 1179)

“When the mind is at peace,
the world too is at peace.
Nothing real, nothing absent.
Not holding on to reality,
not getting stuck in the void,
you are neither holy nor wise, just
an ordinary fellow who has completed his work..

My daily affairs are quite ordinary;
but I’m in total harmony with them.
I don’t hold on to anything, don’t reject anything;
nowhere an obstacle or conflict.
Who cares about wealth and honour?
Even the poorest thing shines.
My miraculous power and spiritual activity:
drawing water and carrying wood.”

Layman P’Ang (c. 740 – 808)

World Children’s Day

“Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.”

From The Prophet by Khalil Gibran (1883 – 1931)