How is your heart?

“It is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.” Thank you, Mary Oliver.
“But Terry, there’s so much to do. So much to make right. Broken places to mend.” Yes. That is all true.
And we begin here: our capacity to mend and heal, is fueled by the wellbeing of our heart and spirit.
In many Muslim cultures, when you want to ask them how they’re doing, you ask: in Arabic, “Kayf haal-ik?” or, in Persian, “Haal-e shomaa chetoreh?” How is your haal? What is this haal that you inquire about? It is the transient state of one’s heart. In reality, we ask, “How is your heart doing at this very moment, at this breath?”
When I ask, “How are you?” that is really what I want to know. I am not asking how many items are on your to-do list, nor asking how many undone items are in your inbox. I want to know how your heart is doing, at this very moment.
So. Tell me. Tell me your heart is joyous or aching. Tell me your heart is sad or grateful, torn or hopeful. Tell me your heart craves human touch. “Being in touch with the heart tells us the quality of our existence, tells us how we recognize the truth,” Russ Hudson writes. “The heart also is the place where we know who we really are.”

I’ve been reading and gratefully taking to my heart, Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s book, Letters and Papers from Prison. (A German Lutheran pastor, Dietrich was an anti-Nazi dissident who was a key founding member of the Confessing Church.)
On October 12, 1943, from Tegel Prison, he wrote, “My dear Parents, Before me is the colorful bouquet of dahlias you brought me yesterday, reminding me of the lovely hour I was able to spend with you, and of the garden and simply of how beautiful the world can be in these autumn days. A stanza that I came across from Strom resonates with this mood and echoes over and over in my consciousness, like a melody one can’t get out of one’s mind,
‘If outside it’s all gone mad
In Christian ways or not
Still is the world,
This gorgeous world
Entirely resilient.’
A few colorful fall flowers, a glance out of the cell window, and a half hour’s ‘exercise’ in the prison yard, in which a pair of beautiful chestnut and linden trees stand, suffice to confirm this.”
(From prison, Dietrich wrote this after his arrest for his staunch resistance to the Nazi dictatorship, and a sustained vocal opposition to the genocidal persecution of Jews. In April 1943, he was arrested by the Gestapo and imprisoned for a year-and-a-half. And later transferred to Flossenbürg concentration camp. Accused of being associated with a plot to assassinate Hitler, Bonhoeffer was tried along with other accused plotters, including former members of the Abwehr—the German Military Intelligence Office. He was hanged on April 9th, 1945 during the collapse of the Nazi regime.)

Here’s what I am learning and embracing as I read. Bonhoeffer’s letters—even from prison—remind us that in a world where cruelty unsettles and unnerves, in a world that calls out for a response, and for restoration, we need to bring our grounded and replenished, heart and self.
Karen Lee White’s reminder, “Unconditional love for self, heals and nurtures every aspect of our beings; it helps us face fear and hopelessness and refocus on hope, gratitude, and beauty. We may not have been prepared for these unprecedented times, but neither do we need to fall victim to them.”

This week someone wrote me to ask, “How, exactly, does one find sanctuary in the middle of what feels like nationalized craziness?” Good question.
It reminds me of Robert Capon’s insight that we live like ill-taught piano students. So concerned about playing the right notes, we never hear the music.
Let’s be clear: hearing the music is not about sacrificing moral clarity or engagement or ambition. Hearing the music is about nurturing personal grounding, which gives our engagement a soul, and gives our soul a voice. An invitation to live fully into this moment, and an invitation to cultivate authenticity, integrity and transparency. A calling to be our best selves through silence and song, community and ritual, listening and compassionate presence. Because the music, wakes us up (as our Buddhist friends would remind us).
Speaking of “hearing the music”, this last month visiting many gardens in England, I was viscerally aware of the replenishment vital to be fully present, and fully alive. In Hidcote Manor, there is a sign that says, “Welcome to Hidcote’s Silent Space. We have partnered with the charity Silent Space to create an area of the garden where visitors are invited to take a moment to disconnect from the outside world and reconnect with nature.” Yes, and Amen.

I write this on Mother’s Day. And a shout out to the women—who throughout all of history—have been our protectors and guardians and gatekeepers. Immense gratitude for the women who have done—and continue to do—so much restoration in our world.
“It’s a perfect day to call your mom, a mom in your life, or anyone who’s shaped you. Those of us who are truly lucky have more than one mother. They are the cool aunts, the elderly ladies, the family friends, even the mentors who whip us into shape. By my count, I’ve had at least eight mothers.” (Heather Cox Richardson)
And let us take this as an invitation to us all—to be protectors and guardians. To those who are marginalized, to affirm the dignity of all human beings and to welcome the stranger.
We are in a world where we can choose, dominance, power and conquest; Or, in the words of Pope Leo IV, to live “embracing a more inclusive church, one that reaches out to those on the margins.” A place of grace and healing restoration.
The Pope also repeatedly cited his predecessor Francis’ mission, committing to making the Catholic Church more inclusive and one that looks out for the “least and rejected.”
David Brooks’ comment gave me a good moment of pause; “I found it incredibly moving to watch him give his first remarks as Pope. In part because here I was, watching an American on the world stage being a decent human being.”

And if, on this Mother’s Day, you are struggling, know that you are not alone. For many, the damage from hurt and pain have taken a toll.
“May these words be the flowers that you wait for, or the call that won’t come, or the conversation that you can’t have, or the reunion that has not yet arrived.
Let them be hope packaged and personally delivered to the center of your heart, and may they sustain you.” (Thank you John Pavlovitz)
This all re-emphasizes our need for nurture and protection. And sanctuary. And it is our well-being which enables us to be that place for others, who are hurt and damaged, who are left out and victimized, who are oppressed and mistreated. Onward together my friends.

In the evenings here, just at dusk, the ducklings—all ten of them—spend time playing in the pond, racing, scurrying, darting, exploring. Each doing their own thing. Their Mama rests nearby, giving the wee ones their play break. And you can hear them saying, “Hey Mom, check this out. Look at me.”
And our music below is “Let it Be”, the song Paul McCartney wrote about his mother, Mary.

Quote for our week… “I had a choice: I could either let the darkness of the world swallow me, or I could do what I could to help make the world a little bit brighter.” Haruki Murakami

BULLETIN BOARD

Today’s Photo Credit: “Dear Terry, Thank you sharing your Cotswold vacation with us! It was lovely! I love ‘glory rays’ and especially upward and downward ones. Welcome home,”
Marguerite Gerontis… Thank you Marguerite… And thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhershey.com 

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Letters that do my heart good…
–From here in England Terry, thank you so much for sharing your heart today and for bringing light and hope into my life with your encouraging words. Val
–Thank you for honest and words that help us all grow. Susan
–Today’s Daily Dose reached into my heart and touched it—filling with warmth and hope, it reached into my soul and shook me, it hit my mind (like Cher slapping Nicholas Cage in “Moonstruck”) with the realization that my angry reactions to what’s happening in our country are hurting me and interfering with me responding from my heart and soul. “Good trouble = Good works” Thank you! Tony
–Terry, Always so grateful for your wisdom that give me hope and a determination to spread the light! You are a gift. Blessings, Fran
–One of your best, Terry. I certainly do hope that courage is contagious, and you are so right about needing stories more than food. I had never heard the story of Peg Wallace before and find it both beautiful and hopeful. As you may recall, I live now in Arkansas and may just have to drive the four hours to Little Rock to see that “white door”. Many thanks, God bless, Kathleen
–Great poem! My favorite line is “The person who risk nothing, does nothing, and has nothing, is nothing” I have come to the conclusion that silence is compliance and if you are standing for nothing you are standing for something, it just might not be the something you want! I also appreciate the comparison for the big world and small world. Thank you for sharing that perspective Terry. Hope you are well. Big hugs. What you wrote is so beautiful and so true. We can all give mercy, grace, forgiveness and kindness. Every little bit helps. Thank you for the post, Shawn