Musings by the Window

The third week of January this year seems like such a long time ago. That week, I took leave from work to rest and recollect. The early morning air was cool and crisp, and sitting by the window after breakfast became the wonderful highlight of each day.

Life felt quiet and peaceful. And there was an exciting, much-awaited trip to look forward to within the year. Giverny, Lourdes, Provence here we come! Vive la France!  

Then came the lockdown. The quarantine, now almost three months old. Work only from home, most likely until the end of the year. Travel plans for the rest of the year let go. The fear of falling ill or even passing away, isolated and alone. The uncertainty of how long this pandemic will last. What an unexpected turn of circumstances!

These days, when I sit by the window,  the view is still familiar -  colourful fuchsia bougainvilleas,  fresh-looking green sampaguita vines, fan-shaped banana leaves swaying. Still an uplifting site each morning, even with the heat of summer. 

But the reality is, so much has changed! More than anyone had every imagined possible! Who can say for sure where all of these will lead to! For now, we can only acknowledge and try to really accept that we are indeed in liminal and uncertain space and time. Like travellers on a journey into the unknown! 

How to find peace within? How to live and move out of love more than out of fear? How to be present to others while also practicing self-care? Perhaps here is where the practice of sitting still can really help.  Sitting... in silence.. breathing... in... out... in... out... till inner quiet comes... till a certain free-ness enters and lingers. The free-ness to make room for the present reality... to accept the uncertainty... to trust that this moment, and every moment hereafter, is enough... to know that in this moment, His Spirit continues to give life and move me wherever He wills. Many things may change, but the reality of His Spirit and grace is a constant for eternity.

Lord, increase my awareness of You 

in each and every present moment in me.. 

in others.. in the world.. 

and in each and every morning by the window.

You and yours will  always will be 

" the one true thing that really matters"

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Pink Passion

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I never expected that I would one day discover a place that adores the color pink so much! Their national pride is the lovely sakura, commonly known as cherry blossoms. At this time of the year, the sakura start sprouting in many parts of Japan, producing lovely shades of pink - from almost white, to super light, to baby pink, to a richer pink, to a brighter, then darker fuschia. The flowers are relatively small, and grow in bunches, as if exhibiting a collectivist rather than individualist nature. 

To appreciate the sakura at their best, one has to stand at a distance and allow one's eyes to slowly move in a panoramic way, as if to gather up into a whole the many scatterings of pink, then to frame them into a lovely painting. Or, as someone described her zen-like experience to us, one can just sit very still in contemplation and drink in the beauty of the pink flowers hanging from the branches or falling softly to the ground. I was not able to personally witness this, but can imagine how heart-filling such an experience could be.

As surely as the sun rises each morning, these lovely pink sakura reappear without fail every springtime, bringing a gentle cheeriness and an enlivening feeling to all fortunate to be around when they bloom.  In a world full of suffering and darkness, these sakura remind us that indeed, “hope (still) springs eternal.”

Thank you, Japan, for fondly cultivating these blossoms and sharing their beauty with all who want to enjoy them too. And most of all, thank you dearest God, for this gift of lovely pink nature at its finest!!  🌸🌸🌸

Happy Easter!

Autumn Warmth

"And for all this, nature is never spent;

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things.."

                     - Gerard Manley Hopkins

              God's Grandeur

I can't seem to shake off my attachment to the beautiful scenery of autumn leaves that I was fortunate to see last month. The vibrant, fiery colours seemed to shout out their beauty that one has no choice but to drink it all in, till the "cup runneth over."  The colours are warm even if they signal the coming colder months. The leaves call out as a whole, not individually, even though each leaf is actually very nicely shaped in itself. No wonder Albert Camus reflected, "Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower."  How true!  A tree that holds a whole bunch of fiery flowers!

It would be nice to seek these type of scenery out again and again in the future.

Sigh! 

Traversing the Unknown

"My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

- Thomas Merton

Today marks the 40th day after a most difficult and sad awakening that feels almost like death.  Forty days of grieving and gradually mourning over immense loss, of slowly traversing this new road that is still so uncertain and ambiguous. One day at a time. One baby step at a time. One present moment at a time.

Jessie Lichauco said, "We don't count age by years but by LIVING."  What might it mean to really live as we age?  Really live... and really love, despite feeling painfully broken and truly hurt and saddened over loss?   What might possibly lie ahead onwards from this 40th day?

No easy answers. No shortcuts. No magic wand to cast all away from reality.  But, I do know You are still here with me, my dearest Lord, and that You will always be with me, through all that is yet to come.  I seek refuge in your words:

"... be in silence.

Make peace with your fears,

and trust in Love."

    - Psalm 4

Lovely Dwelling Place

The home my siblings and I grew up in was built in 1954. I lived there for 26 years, moved out when I got married, and came back with my husband and three children after 13 years, to take care of our mother. We then lived there for 15 years, until our own home was built and we moved out. Cumulatively, 41 years of my life was spent there.  

Very recently, my sister and I passed by the place, only to witness a very jarring sight. In just 11 months from the time the new owners took over, they demolished everything to the ground. The place looked like rubble. It was very painful to see, even if it really no longer belonged to our mother anymore.

I have not yet grieved this new reality. When I think of the place, so many memories flood my mind. We had lived and breathed the place. It was truly home.

In reminiscing the years gone, the music and lyrics of this song comes gently to mind as I think of this lovely place.

HOW LOVELY IS YOUR DWELLING PLACE
by Fr. Arnel Aquino S.J.

How lovely is your dwelling place,
Oh Lord, mighty God, Lord of all.

Even the lowly sparrow finds a home for her brood
And the swallow a nest for herself
Where she may lay her young
In your alters my King and my God.

Blessed are they whose dwelling
Is Your own, Lord of Peace.
Blest are they, refreshed by springs and by rain
When dryness daunts
Behold my shield, my King and my God.

I would forsake a thousand other days anywhere
If I can spend one day in Your courts,
Belong to You alone,
My strength are You alone.
My glory, my King and my God.

For the past many years this lovely dwelling place was filled with family, conversation, play, comings and goings of relatives and visitors, other household activity and the hustle and bustle of daily living. There was rarely a time when the house was empty of people, until it was sold.

Personally, this sanctuary was very much sacred space. Certain spots overlooking the garden areas would come alive and present themselves as prayer spaces. God's love could easily well up like a natural spring in my heart just by quiet gazing over grass, leaves and sky.  Flowers of different colors would appear and disappear. Close to twilight, the nostalgic smell of burning leaves would float, in tune with  cricket sounds, bird chirping and tree leaves rustling with the blowing wind. All of these were like a calm massage for the soul, making contemplation and conversation with Him soothing and natural. Yes, His Spirit was truly present. This was the gift of home. 

How much lovelier  could a dwelling place be, oh Lord, mighty God, Lord of all?  

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 View from the street

 Young caballero

 Langka in front, ilang-ilang beside it

 Main entrance

 Living room

Mom's favorite station during the day

 Two rocking chairs

 Dining overlooking the garden

 Yellow bird chimes on the old willow tree

 Upstairs mini-corridor

 Mama Mary and Jesus looking over Mom

 Morning prayers by the cross on the wall

 Attempting a Trellis

 Tiny plot beside the terrace, with Our Lady

Our Lady of Guadalupe

with cross made from the star apple tree

 Special sampaguita and bougainvillea lane

 View of the garden from upstairs

 The old garge

Kitchen entrance

My childhood mantle

Climbing up and standing here

to see what goes on "over the bakod"

Main gate, inside going out

View when standing under the main entrance door

Rustling leaves

Prayer Space

 My Lord and my God

 Forget me not

Bougainvilla, red palm

Evening prayer

Bench along the car porch

 Second gate

 Basketball along the driveway

 Towards the garage

Wooden bench under the willow tree

Taken on the last day of ownership

before leaving the place for the very last time.

Home

1954 - 2015

Beautifully illustrated by Jordan Osbourne

Even the lowly sparrow finds a home for her brood

And the swallow a nest for herself

Where she may lay her young

In your alters my King and my God.

How lovely is your dwelling place,
Oh Lord, mighty God, Lord of all.

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Stillpoint

After the Good Friday service, it was great to be able to just sit quietly in front of the venerated cross after everyone else had left the chapel, and to be "alone with the Alone." 

      

The stillness and quiet around became one with the stillness and quiet within, A stillness that had been making its presence felt for sometime now, as if begging to be recognized, acknowledged and savored.

Later, on the way to the car, the site overlooking the valley below caught my attention. The lovely twilight scene on a Good Friday was like the prelude to Easter.  A word whispered repeatedly in my ear: "Stillpoint."  Inner quiet. Freedom. Joy. The space where my heart just knows how real and how true is his steadfast and most faithful love. The love that will always be here.  

 My dearest Lord,

 Thank you for your miracle, your gift, 

of this precious Stillpoint;

where your faithful, Divine Love

meets my struggling, imperfect love

in silence and stillness;

where gratitude now longs

to be transformed into

 a vessel for your love

 to also flow through 

to many others.

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