RE-PURPOSING

 There's been a lot of good buzz over the last few years around the concept of Re-Purposing. 
Women's decorating magazines, homesteading websites and craft blogs
have been showing us how to take one thing and turn it into something
completely different...a colander becomes a hanging lamp...canning jars
become chandeliers...thrown out pieces of whatever become collage art pieces.  You can find lots of ideas at this blog list if you are prone to reusing, recycling and re-purposing the things around you.

At Prairie Pond Woods,
mostly out of logistical necessity, my husband
and I started naming areas of the property right after we took
possession of it. We have the "fallen oak" area, the "larkspur slope"
and the "landing strip," to name a few.  The landing strip is a long,
narrow patch of
land that separates two wooded areas and, if you needed to, you could
land a small plane there in a pinch. At the end of the strip sits an old
aluminum-sided lean-to. I never thought much about it, in fact there
was some talk about dismantling it, but lately I've been thinking about
turning it into a place of meditation and prayer.  Yes, an old cow
shed...becomes a place to connect with God. Hey, it's happened before, if
you recall.

  

This
week, I will be feverishly working on the shed (alongside a wise, young
woman, who is bartering work at Prairie Pond Woods for a personal
retreat), in hopes of finishing it before the Bird Watching as a Meditation retreat this coming weekend.  There is much to do for sure...poor girl has her work cut out for her!

Dead Sumac trees need cleared out and the wood cut small for the fire pit going inside

The Entrance obviously needs re-worked

The weeds on the floor have been killed and now a layer of mulch needs to go down.

The Honeysuckle and Crown Vetch have
been eradicated on one side.  Now new native landscaping must be
designed and planted so that it facilitates a feeling of peace,
seclusion and joy upon arrival.  My hope is that as women spend time there, the simple act of being quiet and listening might bring about New Purposes in their lives.

NAMING CONTEST!!

 

So, here's the deal.
By Thursday, April 26 at 12:00 AM, I would also like to have the shed
named, so that we can make a barn siding sign to hang at its entrance. 
So...calling all creative types to think of a great name for it (I
started calling it the Med Shed...but it lacks a certain flair). If we
pick your Name, I'll send you a copy of one of my favorite books by Ken
Gire called, Windows of the Soul..Experiencing God in New Ways.

To submit a name, go to
https://www.facebook.com/heartbynatureretreats
Message me

See you outside!

Cindy

Adams County Excursion

On Saturday I was invited to go with a group of naturalist who usually get together this time each year to hunt for plants in the mustard family.  Due to the early spring...the mustards are up, bloomed and gone...so the group decided to set out and just go where their phenological noses took them.

It was nice to be among a group of people who love experiencing nature and learning as much as I do. Now, don't get me wrong, I have friends who would give me their kidneys, and with whom I can sit and talk for hours about Life, or nothing important at all. I have many Anam Caras...but few of them care to go birding or botanizing with me...go figure.  But I'm working on them.

So, it was nice to be with folks who randomly blurt out bird names or drop to their knees and start digging through leaf litter or stand motionless looking up or walk in circles staring at the ground, without thinking mental illness is involved.  

We were loosely led by Jim McCormac, who works for the Ohio Dept or Natural Resources and is a wealth of information and understanding.  He has a great blog where you can see way better photos of the day than mine. 

Gettin' the Shot!

I was definitely out-gunned with camera gear and therefore photography enthusiasm.  One of the photographers turned me on to a bino/camera strap combo, so next time I hope to bring the big, heavy Nikon, too. But until then, I hope you will enjoy these few decent photos of some of the things we saw along the way from my "camera lite."

Prairie Dock-A tall native plant of Ohio Prairies

Columbine growing on and hanging from Dolomite Rocks

 Crossvine on Rt. 52 along the Ohio river

There are larges patches of this growing up rock faces and trees on 52

Juniper Hairstreak Butterfly...gorgeous...and a very patient model. 

It soaked up its mud minerals for over a half-hour while we took photos

A male Fence Lizzard lulled into stasis by rubbing his turquoise tummy

RETREAT-Day 1

Wild Phlox greets me on the drive

Arrived at Prairie Pond Woods Monday in the late afternoon, just in time to unload (or schlep) my stuff from the car and walk the Refresher Course before it got dark.  First, I stopped at our morel hotspot but didn’t find a single one – at least not yet. Last year around April 15, this same nondescript patch yielded over 30 of the tasty mushrooms in varying sizes.  But this spring is like no other.

Columbine hangs from the dolomite rock

I can get easily discouraged, when strolling through the habitats, at the amount of invasive species encroaching on the lively patches of columbine or up the slender trees in the woods or in the prairie…indeed, a battle waits.  But today I just chose to notice only the delicate white, pink and purple wildflowers popping up between rough branches and dried brown leaves along the stream, hailing the beauty and joy of spring.

Anemone

They reminded me of one reason I am here on retreat – to spend time cultivating joy and contentment. They say it takes three weeks to develop a new habit, to retrain your brain and create new neural pathways of thinking and behavior.  I have eight.  Eight weeks to do mornings differently.  Eight weeks to eat differently and choose to move more rapidly.  Eight weeks to even approach these goals differently than I have in the past…to change the “pressure to produce” (call it being super working mom or efficient stay-at-home mom, or successful single woman, or reaching out to the ‘name your group’ saintly woman)...into the rest that bears fruit (call it love, joy, peace, patience….) 

Bluets greet me at the entrance to woods

So I’ll be giving myself permission and time needed to think creatively. My grip is loosening on agendas and my heart muscle is exercising receptivness to the Spirit’s leading.  Recently I read an article written by a woman who said she knew “God wanted me to let go of goodness and find freedom.”  The moment I read it, I got it. It doesn’t mean she became bad, but for her it meant “beginning to see life lived from the list of ‘shoulds’ and ‘oughts’ would fall short of God’s ultimate desire for me.”

For my particular issues that means beginning to see life lived “careless in the care of God,” as someone very wise once said. I can find no better paraphrase for Jesus’ words in Matthew 6, where he suggests we learn a thing or two about freedom from the fat and happy birds or the flowers standing majestically in the fields.  It is a mindset that staunchly rejects self-judgment and humbly rejects status.  It is a mindset that allows the day to unfold however it does, as we do our best joyfully.

Sunset through the dogwoods

To be sure there is a lot to accomplish; all of us, everyday, feel this.  But the outcomes don’t need to sap our joy or our feeling of worth. The same job can get done whether our mindset is manic or whether it is calm. In fact, most of our stress is not what is happening outwardly but how we are dealing with it inwardly.  These days, when the over-whelming answer to the question, “How are you?” is “I’m over-whelmed,” wouldn’t it be nice to hear someone answer, “I’m free?”

A NEW MEDITATION

Last spring I was walking the grounds when I spotted two Cedar Waxwings sitting on a branch in a silver maple tree just above me.  Oddly, they didn't fly away like most birds might have. I quickly noticed they were engaged in a most interesting "dance" with each other...paying absolutely no attention to me! 

The first waxwing held a small twig with a flower bud at the tip in its beak. It walked sideways about 3 or 4 steps towards the other and extended the twig. The second bird took the twig in its beak and side-stepped away from the first bird, who then side-stepped towards the second bird and took back the twig. They probably marched about 3 feet down the branch, exchanging the twig back and forth, until something scared them off.  It was an interesting courtship display and at this time of year these things are going on all over the place!

 

Birds are fascinating creatures and so much fun to watch and try to figure out. On April 27-28, Heart By Nature Retreats will host its first Women's Group Retreat of the year exploring Bird Watching as a Mediation

 ...a way to focus on Beauty (calming our busy brains)

...a way to enter Worship

(the wonders of God are praiseworthy)

...a way to Release fear and stress

(birds remind us that we are to be "careless in the care of God," to paraphrase Jesus).

So, if you are a novice bird watcher...come learn something new.  If you are a skilled birder...come teach us something new.  Or if you have never even considered watching or learning about birds...come ask what they can teach you through the Spirit of God.

“But ask the animals, and they will teach you,

   or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you;

 or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,

   or let the fish in the sea inform you.

 

                                                                      Job 12:7-10

Visit www.heartbynature.com for more information

ODE TO BLACK BEARS (recently seen in Adams Co.)

Spring

  

Somewhere

a black bear

has just risen from sleep

and is staring

down the mountain.

All night

in the brisk and shallow restlessness

of early spring

I think of her,

her four black fists

flicking the gravel,

her tongue

like a red fire

touching the grass,

the cold water.

There is only one question:

how to love this world.

I think of her

rising

like a black and leafy ledge

to sharpen her claws against

the silence

of the trees.

Whatever else

my life is

with its poems

and its music

and its cities,

it is also this dazzling darkness

coming

down the mountain,

breathing and tasting;

all day I think of her –

her white teeth,

her wordlessness,

her perfect love.

~ Mary Oliver ~

Prayer for a New Society (ie The Kingdom of God)

All nourishing God, your children cry for help

Against the violence of our world

Where children starve for bread and feed on weapons

Starve for vision and feed on drugs

Starve for love and feed on videos

Starve for peace and die murdered in our streets

Creator God, timeless preserver of resources

Forgive us for the gifts that we have wasted

Renew for us what seems beyond redemption

Call order and beauty to emerge again from chaos.

Convert our destructive power into creative services

Help us to heal the woundedness of our world.

Abiding God, loving renewer of the human spirit,

Unfold our violent fists into peaceful hands

Stretch our sense of family to include our neighbors

Stretch our sense of neighbor to include our enemies

Until our response to you finally respects and embraces

All creation as precious sacraments of your presence.

Hear the prayer of all your starving children.  Amen.

                                             --PaxChristi USA

I TOOK A WALK TODAY

WONDERING

Much rain and the first December cold snap

left waters overflowing and glazed slick,
on this day when the sun, like a stranger,
finally showed its firey face from dawn to dusk. 

 

The frozen marsh, dotted with flotsam and jetsam,
jutting trunks and faraway ducks, reflects the sky,
recently laundered and spread tight like a plain, blue sheet.

Life and death suspended together and locked in
at the edge of these icy waters. And I wonder
how Life does its miraculous carrying-on
under this thick, glass ceiling, under the cold mud,
under the rotting logs half-submerged. 

Only oak and beech trees rustle their leafy instruments,
hailing me alone down a trail of surrendered leaves.
The historical marker tells me this wetland
was once a fur trading business. And I wonder
how different it was before all that blood and commerce.

Up ahead, cardinals drinking from melting puddles
are like fallen clusters of ripened fruit. And I wonder
how something so vivid and beautiful can so often
be taken for granted, flying around our yards
and picking at the salt by the side of the road.

And the two brilliant bluebirds, so out of place
in this brown and gray landscape,
yet so perfectly placed for me to see. And I wonder
who tells these delicate, feather-painted creatures
to stay for the harshness of winter months. 

FALL SABBATICAL-WEDNESDAY

This morning I again settled in with a cup of tea on the front porch to watch the rain and let my mind focus on God.  Mist, like soft organza, inched its way up from between the jagged hills to return to the solid white sky, where drizzle originated unseen.

The blue spruce next to me seemed to be a stop-over for all the birds that call my home, their home.  A flock of white-throated sparrows hopped in the branches for awhile, then moved on.  Several cardinals, among other species, passed through, too.  But one lone mockingbird remained, dominating the air waves with a strange, singular screech.  Maybe this was one of a pair of mockingbirds that nested in the tree in spring, so close to the edge you could see them from the porch swing bringing in nesting materials.  By early June they were prematurely gone, no eggs no nestlings or at least none that survived.  A mystery.

 

During this time of contemplation, I've been reading through a book called, The Still Point, which has short, weekly readings for meditation - an opening prayer, several scriptures, excerpts from books, some poetry and a closing prayer.  The authors range from contemporary to 18th and 19th century, all the way back to the desert mothers and fathers and the "saints of old."  I'm finding it a lovely way to start my day.

One of the scriptures for this week was Psalm 84, whose writer also notices the birds at the Temple and writes about them, saying how blessed they are to live and sing in God's house.  That is how I felt this morning - blessed beyond measure to be in this temple of Creation, listening to the birds, the rain, the drip of water into the watering can under a leak in the porch roof.  Feeling also a little bit like that lone Mockingbird, calling out to the others to just be still, stop moving, stop striving, abide. Sometimes it can be a lonely calling.  But the Psalmist also writes:

 "I would rather be a doorkeeper in your courts,

than to take my fate upon myself" 

And I think about how long it took me to get here - how long, and how many prayers it takes to get to contentment.  To finally see the forest for the trees.  As I rose out of the chair to warm my tea up, a phrase popped into my head out of nowhere.  This is often how God speaks to me and the deep thought for today was this:

"There are no answered prayers...there are only unfoldings."

I heartily agreed, thinking about my own journey and how answers to the big questions were often only there in retrospect. How when we cried out for one thing or struggled with God over another, God was at work, changing us, so that looking back we can see how the life we needed to grow, transform and heal, unfolded. That was true for me on this particular morning at least, as I thought about a hope realized, my eyes filling with mist and my heart filling with gratitude. 

FALL SABBATICAL-TUESDAY

I'm a day behind, due to technically slow difficulties using dial-up, but it gives me the time to reflect on the whole day before I post. Tuesday was a day of both relaxation and work.  Sunday, I decided on a schedule to keep each day, so that there is some time "scheduled" for quiet contemplation, some for productivity and some for creativity.  Tuesday's work revealed my age and lack of any real physical work in my life.  I cleared the trail for the upcoming retreat of hanging branches and fallen logs, stacking brush piles up along the way for wildlife refuges (refugia).  All that reaching and lopping and bending and hauling...left me a bit sore by evening.  But it is good work, and does a body good.

What I noticed while up on the prairie ridge section was a wonderful population of black, shingle and white oak saplings coming up.  Many of the saplings were so short, while their leaves were huge, often longer than the trunk, which I found amusing.  I'll be dead before any of them reach the size of the neighbor's mother trees that tossed their acorns over the fence for squirrels to unwittingly plant. But it does my heart good to know they will be there long after I am gone for someone else, and the wildlife, to enjoy.

After work, I wrote a poem from my morning meditation on the porch, as I listened to the birds and drank Lemon Zinger tea.  It's a poem I will probably continue to work on...but that may take a while...so I'll share it with you in this form.  Let me know what you think.  Enjoy your day. 

October Morning

The Eastern Towhee sings his 2-syllable chirp

in the blue spruce next to me on the deck,

the sleepy, gray dawn slowly brightens, then

suddenly sparks, igniting quiet into cacophonies

I hear each bird’s rhythm – 4 caws from the crow

5 quick buzzes from the titmouse, never ending

screeches from a blue jay, 2 electric songs from

bluebirds perched on a wire, 1 toy-squeak

from a flicker – calling to the world, each other,

to God, that their life matters

Would that we should wake up each morning and

scream for hours from our porches - who we are,

our intentions, the names of our loved ones and

ours, if God re-named us, like the Sons of Thunder

At almost 8:30 the measured calls start to wane

Sounds of the human day begin–a chained dog barks,

cars chase each down their appointed routes,

in the distance there is the growl of machinery

I’ll come back at 4:30 when the day’s chores

Are behind me to listen  again to their

chattering in the trees, as they store up seeds

at the feeder for the long, chilly night ahead

Their voice, my voice, your voice fills the world