The Aroma of God

Today I mowed the lawn. I have always loved the smell of freshly cut grass, and have never met anyone who did not, despite allergies. The other night on my way home from Wichita I drove with the windows down. I made a mental inventory of the smells that delighted me.
The first was the odor of oil being pumped out of the ground just north of Park City. Northbound on K15 I smelled the freshly plowed earth with its deep hardy redolence; newly cut hay and alfalfa; and skunk, of course. When I buy feed for the horses, goats, and chickens I do not always get it into the barn the same afternoon. After a day or so the whole car is saturated with the sweet smell of feed. Around "Soggy Bottom" there are lots of other smells from all the animals, their barns, and manure. An old friend of mine, Ray Haynes" always said his dairy barn smelled like money to him.
I also love the smell of ink in a new book; the blend of coffee, bacon, and homemade biscuits; fresh rain; new babies; and night blooming jasmine that bloomed outside my window when I was a boy.
Olfactory senses must have memory. There are times when I suddenly smell my grandfather's pipe, even though no one is smoking around me. I also smell the cane syrup my grandmother served with her pancakes on Saturday morning. Sometimes these are combined and I am flooded with wonderful memories and comfort.
I dare say, these are the aromas of God, like the scent of a woman. It is a scent that is unique to each and all of her parts - natural and artificial. Combined they offer the bouquet of Mother Earth, the very manifestation of the Sacred One. What is God like? Go outside and take a deep breath. I close with this bit of Celtic blessing from G.R.D. McLean's Celtic Spiritual Verse.
O God, bless my homestead,
Bless thou all in there.
O God, bless my kindred
Bless thou my life share.

Transformation

The first-planted milo is now a burnt umber. Soy plants are turning yellow. Feed corn stand in faded brown. Sumac, maples, and locust trees offer a pale golden hint of red and orange. The Jerusalem Artichokes are a riot of bright sun blossoms against the blue Kansas sky. The ones pictured here grow close to our house. The sunflower plants are in full head facing the east, waiting for the resurrection. I saw the first wooly worm when I was mowing yesterday. My friend, Karen, says that she is seeing the first signs of winter coat on her horses.
Something is changing this mid-September. The Farmer's Almanac says that it will be a long and cold winter with lots of snow.
What the Buddhists teach me is the impermanence of life. Life is always changing. So much suffering is self-inflicted as we grab hold of some one, some idea, some thing, and hold on to it for dear life. Of course we do not understand that we strangle the dear life out of her in the process of holding on.
My Christian tradition teaches me that our lives are sacred journeys and every day is a gift to discern how we are traveling and to what destiny does God intend us? We are always on the move. We often get blown off course, of course. We sometimes go the wrong direction. And there are all kinds of things to worry about like storms, shoals, and an unruly crew. The worst mistake that we can make is to stay anchored in harbor, as if harbors never change.
I have certainly made many mistakes on my journey. There were missed career opportunities, moral lapses, and just plumb dumb decisions. It is not a good thing when the crew mutinies and you are the crew! But despite all of that, the Spirit of God still fills my sails and moves me in the right direction. I am learning to sail deeper currents, when to change course, and when to tack. And yes, there is a time to drop anchor and rest and resupply - for the next voyage.
Change has brought heartache and wonderful gifts. In the course of my life's changes I have met and married Mimi, we have a beautiful daughter, an expanding family, and so many gifts I cannot list them all here.
From the book of Judith we read, "A new song we will sing to You."

The Transparent Soul

As a child growing up in Florida, I would often lie down on the grass under the bright sun. After a time it seemed to me that the light and warmth of the sun flowed right through me into the soil. I could not tell a difference between the sun, my body, and the earth. It was very much like leaning my head on my mother's breast as she sang Judy Garland songs.
I had a similar experience snorkeling off of Spanish Wells, Bahamas. The surf that surrounds that island is relatively shallow. I was right on the surface of the water, peering down onto a large colony of sea urchins, like the one pictured here from the University of Massachusetts. Again, the sun was shining on my back. I could feel and see a change of light as a small rain cloud passed overhead. In the distance the pitter-patter of rain could be heard. It danced with cold feet on my back. The cloud moved on and the heat returned. In the meantime I watched the silent world below me as black tentacles swayed in the current.
There was no distinction between ocean, urchin, body, sun, cloud, and rain. Everything was one whole piece of life. My mind was the sieve that observed the harmony and beauty that flowed through it. I do not presume to call this enlightenment, but it was a profoundly religious experience that still inspires me.
Paul wrote to the Ephesians (4:6): "Everything you are and think and do is permeated with Oneness." (This rendering by Eugene H. Peterson, The Message.
Today the church celebrates Cuthburga, who founded the nunnery in Wimborne, England in 725 A.D. Cuthburga was said to be quite severe with self discipline but kind to her nuns, who were exceptionally well educated.

Space at the Table

Have you ever watched hummingbirds at a feeder? One shows up at a feeder with four perches. It slurps in the nectar with concentrated effort. A second hummingbird arrives to determine which of the three remaining stations it will drink from The first bird will chatter and charge the second bird. This can go on for a quite a long time. Despite the fact that there are plenty of perches for both birds - plus two more - the first bird will not give the second an opportunity to feed. In fact, they both could be eating rather that fighting.
My horses are the same way. Each receives a quart of horse feed in his or her pail at the same time. When my youngest horse, Dusty, is done with his food, he puts his nose in Red's feed pan. Then he will pull the bowl away from the mare, nibbling up the remaining grain.
Our goats butt and push each other at the food trough. These goats are so gluttonous that we have to give them overeaters shots.
All of our animals are well fed on a fairly consistent schedule. Not a day goes by that they are not offered food in the morning and the evening. If you could see them you would know that they are not wanting for food. Yet there is a constant competition for food.
Some animals will eat until they founder or suffer colic. As a nation we are facing an obesity crises that takes its toll on human beings with such diseases as diabetes and heart disease. I have been fighting the battle of the bulge for years.
What I do not understand is famine. We are told that there is enough food on the planet to feed every human being. Yet, we consistently fail to make space at the table for them. Do you think we are too much like humming birds?
Today the church remembers a Dominican recluse, Rose of Lima, who worried that we are confused about the real meaning of wealth.

Sheep from the Goats

A goat kid is perhaps one of the cutest newborns in the animal kingdom. Goats, even at a young age, display all the attributes of their parents. They are curious and will approach a stranger for no other reason than to be sociable or in the hope that food will be offered. Goats are inquisitive and intelligent. There are reports of trained goats. Like all herd animals they will stick together, more or less, and maintain an independent streak at the same time - kind of like my family. As they grow larger they become more assertive and feeding a large group of goats is not without its risks. Some nannies are aggressive with their young and will butt new born kids or deny them the teat, especially if it is a runt.
Sheep represent a different species of animal. They too are herders, but rely on the herd much more than goats. Herding is, of course, their main protection against predators. Unlike goats, sheep are more reticent to engage strangers, but will follow the voice of their shepherd. Some argue that goats are smarter than sheep but I think that depends on whether you are a goatherd or a shepherd. Sheep are more likely to run away from threats than goats are.
There are a lot of people who raise goats in Kansas, especially Boar goats, which are harvested for meat. In fact, 70% of the world's population eats goat meat. There are also goatherds that raise milk goats, such as Nubians. Their products include not only milk, but also cheese and butter. We have one of each. The kid pictured above is a a Boar. Our original plan was to raise a few Boar goats for meat. That project fell apart when Mimi and Emily named them - Katie and Hannah. They are now what you might call "pasture candy."
So, what is the issue in Matthew's gospel about separating the sheep from the goats? Both were important to the economy of Israel. Both were necessary for meat, goats for milk, and sheep for wool. Sheep dung was an important source of fuel. Young goats were favored as sacrificial animals. Perhaps that was the issue for the early church. The church wanted to distance itself from the old cult of blood sacrifice and the goat's reputation for being the image of sin and selfishness. The church now had its own "Lamb of God," and the pastoral image of a community that protected its own.
Today Mimi and I celebrate our 18th wedding anniversary.

Monarch or Milkweed?

A monarch butterfly traveled with me the other day. She flit from plant to plant seeking nourishment. The monarchs will soon be migrating south. I am truly amazed that these beautiful creatures ever arrive anywhere. The monarch seems to have no discernible flight pattern. It swoops, loops, glides, and floats. It does not seem to ride the thermal winds that could carry it long distances. Rather, they are buffeted by the wind; blown off course by passing vehicles; or even worse, splattered against radiator grills and windshields.
I hardly think these clumsy acrobatics speak well for the monarch butterfly. Any flying creature worthy of the title monarch should be in greater control of his or her destiny. A monarch should command the skies with the dignity and grace that royalty demands. Even migration should be accomplished with sovereign aplomb.
Is this not also true of human beings? Doesn't the Bible say that we are "as gods?" And if not, are we not just "a little lower than the angels?" Third rung from the top of the great chain of being is not too shabby. I would certainly like to believe that my life is an example of the crown jewel of creation. As such, I am lord of my future, marking the path I tread with clarity of purpose and potent use of my skills and talents. With majesty I cut a swath through the winds of opposition to achieve the purpose I am destined to command for the good of humanity.
The truth is, of course, that I am not nearly as beautiful as the monarch butterfly, nor am I any more graceful. I also have to be reminded that the monarch is also known as the milkweed butterfly. No royal bloodlines there. No heirs to the throne, just a common variety of plants whose common distinction is a white milky juice. The milkweed is the favorite food of the monarch. What is it that butterflies see in these plants is beyond my comprehension, but maybe that is what accounts for their less than graceful flights to winter homes.
I wonder what it is that accounts for our awkward, stumbling trek through life. My efforts to achieve a simple goal are often thwarted by fatigue, constant interruptions, and lack of resources. I cannot even take a shower without someone needing something. Like the milkweed butterfly I am sometimes blown off course by the gentlest breezes of opposition. And there are times when I am pulverized by even the most transparent wall of antagonism.
Monarch or milkweed, the migration of life goes on. With surprising consistency the monarchs arrive in the tropics where they are fruitful and multiply. Yes, there are casualties along the way, but so it is with every species of life. There are many who are battered and wounded, some who arrive late, and others who never survive the trip. Their dignity as a species is found in their determination to continue the journey - generation after generation. Perhaps their royal sustenance is found in the common fare of milkweed plants.
Today the church celebrates Lawrence, A Martyr in Rome, 2009

Animal Tracks

After a good rain I pay special attention to the animal tracks that I find on my walk. Typically these include raccoon (like the one I photographed above), deer, and coyote. There are others that I am not sure about. What is certain is that after a windy day or after the next rain these tracks will be washed away. No one will be any wiser to the presence of these animals. The habitat is little disturbed.
That can hardly be said for human beings. Our landfills are packed with garbage that will not decompose for centuries or ever. The tracks we are leaving seem all too permanent and the environment is contracting in the throes of death.
The problem is complex and expensive to solve. We try to conserve as much as can our five acres. We recycle, think about the number of necessary automobile excursions, and rely on our air conditioner as little as possible in the summer. We are planning on new energy efficient windows. When we replace our roof we will use white shingles. I have the idea that a windmill would be a good - green and clean - source of electricity. Those three ideas together will cost us between $25,000 and $30,000. But if we do not do them we will pay in other ways such as higher electricity and propane bills. The ecosystem will be further depleted.
Eventually we will do these things in an effort to reduce our footprints on the earth. I think this is a walk that we all have to take together or there will be no place to walk at all.
On this day the church remembers Joseph of Arimethea, compassionate friend of Jesus, 2009