Daily Dose (October 21 – 24)
TUESDAY OCTOBER 21 — This week, let us remember what anchors us. And let us listen to our heart. Let us be gentle with ourselves. Allow grace to ground us. And to our friends and family and the world we touch, may we let our light—and hope—spill.
This I do know: Anchoring (being grounded) and emotional and spiritual hydration go together. Because anchoring allows us to pause. To see. To listen. To pay attention. And to reconnect when life has derailed us.
Like the little boy, a little fretted, holding his Mamma’s face with his hands, and saying, “Mamma, Mamma, listen. But this time, with your eyes.”
Yes. And grounded—present—we can embrace light and hope, even, and maybe especially, when the script for our day (or week, or the narrative for the world around us) has been displaced or even dislocated.
And a reminder that the little things are indeed, the big things.
So. Let us not overlook the little things, noticing and seeing the dignity in all humans. There are so many ways we can feel restricted or confined by a script that “misses” the present moment.
A friend told me about the nativity play at their parish. It made me smile big.
A little girl played the role of the innkeeper. Mary and Joseph (Joseph resplendent in his dad’s bathrobe) knocked on the inn door and asked, “Is there any room in your inn?”
The innkeeper (who only had one word in the “script”, and that was “No”), looked at Mary and Joseph, and then looked out at the pastor.
She looked again at Mary and Joseph, and then looked out at the pew where her parents sat.
She looked again at Mary and Joseph, and said, “Oh well, come on in for a drink.”
Now that’s the spirit.
And here are two quotes from this week to carry with us.
“Life is like that too. It asks us to hold contradictions: energy and exhaustion, hope and despair, love and fear. In all this talk about artificial intelligence, I said, there is so little talk about authentic humanity. Now that we no longer have to be the smartest in the room, we have the opportunity to be the most human. Each of us can love more, care more, listen more deeply, see each other more fully, and wrap our arms around one another in a new and profound way.
Dear God, May we never lose sight of our shared humanity. May love, compassion, and truth guide us closer to one another and back home to ourselves. Amen.” (Thank you, Maria Shriver)
“Can I tell you something privately? I feel as unsettled in my spirit as you do. I know that we are both standing here, making our brave witness to peace and to justice, but I also know that every day seems to bring more reasons to be anxious that things will only get more chaotic. So, yes, I am as unsettled as you. But can I tell you something else? As long as you are here, I will be here. Your faith and your courage inspire me, and many more like me, to keep standing for what we believe. So, yes, we may both be a little afraid, but we will face that fear together, and sometimes that’s all we need.” The Rt. Rev. Steven Charleston
And speaking of “scripts”, who knows how tonight’s baseball game will end. But I can assure you that as a Seattle Mariner fan, I’ll be doing my darndest to keep my heart calm.
WEDNESDAY OCTOBER 22 — This week, let us remember what anchors us. And let us listen to our heart. Let us be gentle with ourselves. Allow grace to ground us. And to our friends and family and the world we touch, may we let our light—and hope—spill, creating sanctuaries for those who are vulnerable around and among us.
Let’s talk about ways we can honor Anchoring (being grounded)—encouraging emotional and spiritual hydration.
1. Embrace the permission to Pause. To see. To listen. To pay attention. And to reconnect when life has derailed us.
Literally, making space for self-care. To let your soul catch up with your body.
“Discernment is the process of letting go of what we are not.” Fr. Thomas Keating reminds us.
Count me in. There are many things I can let go of… my need to be impervious. And my preoccupation with any compulsion to be in control.
In our world, do I feel vulnerable? Yes.
Fretful? A wee bit.
Still with the capacity to spill light, calm, consolation and hope where it is needed? Absolutely.
2. Remember that we are connected. Every single one of us.
“Whatever affects one directly,” Martin Luther King Jr. said, “affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
Bishop William Barber’s reminder that, “We is the most important word in the justice vocabulary.”
I loved the book Eating the Sun, and this made me smile real big; “Trees are also seemingly able to distinguish their own roots from those of other species, and even those of their relatives. They share food and help to nourish their competitors when they are sick or struggling (in winter an aspen will likely not do as well as a conifer, so the conifer lends a hand), and all this apparently for no other reason than that living becomes much easier when you’re helping others, rather than simply ensuring your own survival.”
Yes. We were made for this, one soul helping another.
So, where do we begin?
Rear Admiral Thornton Miller Chief was the Chaplain at Normandy in WWII. Someone asked him, “Up and down the beach, with the shells going everywhere, why did you do that?”
“Because I’m a minister.”
“But didn’t you ask if they were Catholic or Protestant or Jew?”
“If you’re a minister, the only question you ask is, ‘Can I help you?'”
It does my heart good to read daily stories about peacemakers, healers, restorers and lovers of every kind…
3. Know that life is precious. Savor your day.
Let a sense of wonder find you this week. It can happen in many forms. Linger. Drink in. Savor. And share. For me today, a marvel, a late October day of bright sun and a cerulean blue sky.
And let us not forget the power of a kind word. A gracious smile. A big hug.
And yes, I wouldn’t be truthful if I told you I didn’t have a little heartbreak after our Seattle Mariners lost game seven. It was a tough one. But I will say congrats to Toronto and the Toronto fans. And to baseball fans, who find ways to cheer and savor and celebrate.
THURSDAY OCTOBER 24 — I’m a West Wing fan and in one episode, CJ Craig (White House new chief of staff) is wired, tense and distracted. Danny (her love interest) shows up, middle of the workday, at her White House office, “to take her for a walk.” She consents (but not without a fight, you know, so much “to do”). On the walk, she fidgets and asks, “So, what was so important, taking this walk.”
He says, “Just to see.”
“Well,” she tells him, “this is not the day for it.”
It made me laugh out loud. Sure, I want to live this moment, to be mindful of the sacred, to savor and take delight… but this is not the day for it. As if there is a special day for it?
I confess that there are times these days, when I can be overheard with one of my choice mutterings, “I’m in favor of living in the present, just not this one.”
In our western mindset, living in the present becomes a staged event. Staged to be “spiritual.” As if this is something we must orchestrate. Or arrange. No wonder we sit stewing in the juices of our self-consciousness. “Am I present? What am I doing right or wrong?” All the while, missing the point.
As long as the present moment needs to be staged in order to be enough, we live from scarcity, not sufficiency. We have forgotten the gift of enough. So, it’s Sankofa time. Sankofa (in the Akan language of Ghana), associated with the proverb, “Se wo were fi na wosankofa a yenkyi,” which translates “It is not wrong to go back for that which you have forgotten.”
And my favorite Sankofa story is about a certain African tribe. When a woman in the tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness to pray and listen until she hears the song of the child she bears. This tribe recognizes that every soul has its own vibration, expressing its unique flavor and purpose. Then the mother to be teaches the song to the other members of the tribe.
The tribe sings the song to the child at birth.
They sing when the child becomes an adolescent, when the adult is married, and at the time of parting and death.
But there is one other occasion when the villagers sing this song. If at any time during his (or her) life, the person causes suffering to another member of the tribe, they gather in a circle and set him in the center. They sing the song, to remind him not of the wrong done, but of his own beauty and potential. When a child loses the way, it is love and not punishment that brings the lost one home.
I cannot tell you your song (the reminder of your sufficiency). But I can tell you this: you have one.
Count on it.
And if you sit still, you may hear it.
It is the song that reminds us we are beautiful, when we feel ugly.
It is the song that reminds us of the story that keeps our hope alive.
FRIDAY OCTOBER 24 — This week, we remember what anchors us. To do so, we listen to our heart. Let us be gentle with ourselves. And allow grace to ground us. And to our friends and family and the world we touch, may we let our light—and hope—spill, creating sanctuaries for those who are vulnerable around and among us.
Here’s the curious thing about anchoring; it is where we are grounded, yes, but the influence and effect of that anchor depends upon its purpose.
So. Why is the anchor there?
There’s a great story told about the Buddha and his encounter with an angry man. The man came hurling insults, full of fury, demanding a fight. But the Buddha stood calm, rooted (anchored) in stillness.
When the man finally paused for breath, the Buddha said softly: “If someone offers you a gift and you do not accept it, to whom does the gift belong?”
“To the one who offered it,” the man replied.
“Exactly,” said the Buddha. “So it is with your anger—I do not accept it. Your anger remains yours.”
“There is deep wisdom here for our moment… We can be like the Buddha—grounded, discerning, still. We can hold our clarity like a flame in a windstorm. When we stop reacting to every cruelty and begin responding from spiritual depth, we reclaim our sacred agency.
This is not detachment: it’s a strategic refusal to let chaos colonize our spirit.
The revolution will not be reactive. It will be metabolically wise. Spiritually rooted. Discerning. Collective. Generous. Joyful. Courageous.” (Thank you Rev. Cameron Trimble)
Yes, and amen. Stillness is not an easy thing in chaotic times. But something every one of us desires.
Which brings us back to the anchor. We do know that the primary purpose of a boat anchor is to secure the boat in place. The anchor stops the boat from drifting, due to wind, current, or tides. The anchor is fundamental for safety, and thwarting damage.
As is true for the boat, it is also true for our emotional and spiritual well-being.
The anchor does secure us. But to what? And let us remember that the anchor is not chosen for us. We choose the anchor. Choose, as in we “say yes to”. We say yes to the securing of stillness and calm and peace and good will and resilience.
Or, we say yes to cynicism and negativity and resentment and chaos. All of which is an “anchor” in mind only. Because (in our choosing) we give way to all that is not grounding (life-giving and secure). As the Buddha taught the angry man, “You have an anchor my friend, but it is an anchor that impedes—and as long as you say yes to that anchor, it is an anchor that can indeed, hold you back.”
Let us choose the anchor that grounds us to light and hope.
Autumn is in the air. And the colors in this neck of the woods are awesome. And the Geese are back here in Port Ludlow, ready to settle in for the winter. That always makes me smile big.
Prayer for our week…
Let my prayer find you where you are.
If it is in a moment of joy, then let my words be a chorus of thanks for the gift of your blessing.
If it comes when you are lost in the mist of confusion, then let me be a light to follow until you know your direction.
If you are bent by worry or loss, let my prayer be an embrace to hold you safe until dawn can come again.
And if you are caught by surprise that anyone might be lifting your name to heaven, then let my prayer be a word to your heart of how God loves you just where you are.
Rt Rev Steven Charleston
Photo… “Hi Terry, if we really slow down we can even observe and capture leaves letting go… Thank you for your encouragement to us,” Marguerite Gerontis… Thank you Marguerite… Thank you for your photos, please send them to tdh@terryhershey.com
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