You're inspiring me to think closely about each line along with you. Here I'm caught by the metaphor "sow." We never sow and harvest in the same season. There is reason to let ourselves feel peace even when we're surrounded by "hatred" if we believe we've done what we can to "sow" love. I'd not given thought to that little word before. It seems like a reminder to that we won't see results in this world of struggle right away. That doesn't mean we're doing it wrong. Your watercolor seems to clinch it. What could be more peaceful than berries in the snow?
Beautiful, Tara. It’s funny- as I was editing, I thought maybe “sow” got short shrift there at the end — but now I see it was an invitation for you to add your voice. 🥰
Hey Tara, beautiful response. I already know you a a Generous creature, and have just read your interview with Eleanor….. would you like to do one with me, perhaps February’s “Goldie” at @thiscreativeadventure.com
Julie, with your 1st post about St. Francis' prayer, and now even more with this one, I was reminded of an invocation that I read years ago in a book about runes, that ends "I am the sower and the sown, God's self unfolding, and God's own." Thank you for your writing and consideration of the ways to turn hate to love.
This was a beautiful way to start the day. And the gorgeous artwork and Christmas Carol (one of my favorites) were manifestations of Love. Thank you. ❤️
I kept thinking about Rumi’s The Guest House while reading this moving piece Julie. I’m sure you know it, but I’ll share here. The “welcoming into our home” is a great metaphor for all our unwanted emotions, experiences, both inner and outer:
That’s uncanny! I actually did think of it while I was editing. Thank you for adding it to the conversation. I had that one memorized a while ago. Time to refresh that. 🥰🕊️🤍
Beautiful Julie. My ten year old daughter and I were writing a thank you card for someone. Why do we have to write a card she asked. And I replied — when you do something kind, show a little love, the world becomes a more lovely place, a little kinder, a little more bearable. Sometimes you feel good too, but that it not the reason you do it. And then some time later, after many other kind things that you have given others, something good happens to you.
Oh wow. I missed your first installment of this series, so when I started reading this one today in my inbox, at first I didn't quite know what to make of it, but your words quickly became intriguing and relatable. I'm even more glad I went back and read the first part because it left me speechless!
I'm not a Christian of any description and Christianity carries nothing but trauma for me, so the part where you said "When I play with substituting other words for it, such as Great Mother or Spirit or Source or Divine Creator, interesting possibilities arise" landed heavy with me.
I thoroughly enjoyed both parts and found them truly reflective and nourishing for the soul. Thank you, Julie.
Hi Ramona, I share that trauma too, ....... Unusually for me I have, recently & per coincidence, found myself in local churches engaging in peaceful theological discussions. Conversations being preferable to conversions......
And may I add, your own watercolours that are accompanying the series are such a great fit! These winter berries are especially wonderful. You have a lovely painting style.
A beautiful essay, Julie, and wonderful discussion in the comments. I missed this on its day of release, clicked on today's reading and found I was now on the Third line--so I'm chiming in here a bit late.Tara, I loved the focus on "sow", thank you. I have found that the way I can best sow love in a difficult situation or time, is to listen with as much grace as I can muster, listening one to one. When I listen with full attention, without judgement, I begin to hear the person behind the words. I try to listen until all of their words are wrung out and then let them know I heard. In difficult conversations, everyone has to disarm to get to actual conversation.
One to one, in person, is easier. I have had to limit what I take in from the news, I am so full of reaction and there is no 'person' to make connection with. Such vile things are said, and I have to wonder if they could speak the same way, one to one. I think It is different in a community like what you are gathering here, where there is a mutual agreement to civility and care. It makes a difference.
"The word, heartache, is indeed apt." This line and then the passage on sow and love's generosity have touched me.
I read this after Tara (generously and lovingly) connected our posts in her note. So I was searching among it to find my own pondering reflected and did, along with the beauty of yours. We are always sowing, aren't we? By where we put our attention. By what we share. By our action or inaction. By our response to heartache and fear. By our openness to generosity and love.
Thank you for this post. I will be holding the word sow close to my heart, especially whenever ache comes in.
I love this insight about sowing. It reminds me that I’m happiest when planting seeds. That impulse to life, to growth is pure magic. And to have even a small hand in it is the greatest gift. Thanks for being here, Holly. 🕊️🤍
"We are always sowing, aren't we? By where we put our attention. By what we share. By our action or inaction. By our response to heartache and fear. By our openness to generosity and love."--That is so beautiful, Holly! Thank you.
Thank you for this balm Julie. I have been away from Homecoming for awhile, and it seems like my computer in general. Today I've finally had a chance to sit down and have a good read and find this piece of comfort.
I do not have a secular belief system or foundation but what I do have is a relationship with nature that, I believe, has to be just as satisfying. But, I appreciate the relationship others have and have been looking forward to your insight and progression and learning with this project.
What resonates with me, "They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, but fear." Such an insightful consideration that I must mull over. My first thoughts are how to turn this knowledge into something valuable in conversations that feel, right now for me, so difficult, even impossible.
I am a huge fan of Saint Francis despite my Protestant roots. He rejected his privileged status as the son of a wealthy merchant and spent his life in humble service.
I’ve met two Franciscans during my travels. One ran a hospice in Haiti where people arrived on stretchers through the front door and left in simple coffins out the back door. The other was building a school and clinic in a hellish refugee camp outside Khartoum.
Both were in situations that were very difficult and uncomfortable, but both had a spirit of serenity and joy that was contagious.
Hatred engenders hatred, yet inadvertently sows the seeds of love, which in turn does the reverse, ergo the same. This is the cycle of life. We observe, consider and attempt to morph.....
You're inspiring me to think closely about each line along with you. Here I'm caught by the metaphor "sow." We never sow and harvest in the same season. There is reason to let ourselves feel peace even when we're surrounded by "hatred" if we believe we've done what we can to "sow" love. I'd not given thought to that little word before. It seems like a reminder to that we won't see results in this world of struggle right away. That doesn't mean we're doing it wrong. Your watercolor seems to clinch it. What could be more peaceful than berries in the snow?
Beautiful, Tara. It’s funny- as I was editing, I thought maybe “sow” got short shrift there at the end — but now I see it was an invitation for you to add your voice. 🥰
Haha! Yes, that's it. 😂
To which, Tara; I would add the corollary, that we sow a Very Different crop as we harvest the old.
Oh, I like this addition. Thanks, Maurice.
Well, thankyou too Holly, Likes are always appreciated, Hugtime !
Excellent point!
Make me an instrument of your peace ... and of this week's original harvest.
Hey Tara, beautiful response. I already know you a a Generous creature, and have just read your interview with Eleanor….. would you like to do one with me, perhaps February’s “Goldie” at @thiscreativeadventure.com
Thank you! I’ll DM you.
Julie, with your 1st post about St. Francis' prayer, and now even more with this one, I was reminded of an invocation that I read years ago in a book about runes, that ends "I am the sower and the sown, God's self unfolding, and God's own." Thank you for your writing and consideration of the ways to turn hate to love.
Oh that’s marvelous! Thank you for sharing it. Glad you’re here. 🕊️🤍
This was a beautiful way to start the day. And the gorgeous artwork and Christmas Carol (one of my favorites) were manifestations of Love. Thank you. ❤️
Thanks for being here, Sally! I’m touched that it resonated. 🕊️🤍
Julie's artwork, Sally, speaks just as well as do her writings
I kept thinking about Rumi’s The Guest House while reading this moving piece Julie. I’m sure you know it, but I’ll share here. The “welcoming into our home” is a great metaphor for all our unwanted emotions, experiences, both inner and outer:
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
That’s uncanny! I actually did think of it while I was editing. Thank you for adding it to the conversation. I had that one memorized a while ago. Time to refresh that. 🥰🕊️🤍
Thanks Kimberly, I have not read this welcome piece before. Big Hug, Maurice
Kimberly! Thank you for reminding me of this poem. I need it right now.
Beautiful Julie. My ten year old daughter and I were writing a thank you card for someone. Why do we have to write a card she asked. And I replied — when you do something kind, show a little love, the world becomes a more lovely place, a little kinder, a little more bearable. Sometimes you feel good too, but that it not the reason you do it. And then some time later, after many other kind things that you have given others, something good happens to you.
Love the watercolour too
What a beautiful lesson! Your daughter is lucky to have such a kind mum. 🕊️🤍
Oh wow. I missed your first installment of this series, so when I started reading this one today in my inbox, at first I didn't quite know what to make of it, but your words quickly became intriguing and relatable. I'm even more glad I went back and read the first part because it left me speechless!
I'm not a Christian of any description and Christianity carries nothing but trauma for me, so the part where you said "When I play with substituting other words for it, such as Great Mother or Spirit or Source or Divine Creator, interesting possibilities arise" landed heavy with me.
I thoroughly enjoyed both parts and found them truly reflective and nourishing for the soul. Thank you, Julie.
Hi Ramona, I share that trauma too, ....... Unusually for me I have, recently & per coincidence, found myself in local churches engaging in peaceful theological discussions. Conversations being preferable to conversions......
Words to live by.
One attempts, fails, and attempts again, whilst riding the skimming, crumbling cookie, a.k.a Life
And may I add, your own watercolours that are accompanying the series are such a great fit! These winter berries are especially wonderful. You have a lovely painting style.
Thanks for being here, Ramona. I'm glad this resonated with you, and I appreciate your enthusiasm for the paintings. 🕊🤍
Apropos, Julie, perhaps you would like to add a piece of your art to your interview ?
Sure! Thanks for asking.
Aaaah, lovely….
A beautiful essay, Julie, and wonderful discussion in the comments. I missed this on its day of release, clicked on today's reading and found I was now on the Third line--so I'm chiming in here a bit late.Tara, I loved the focus on "sow", thank you. I have found that the way I can best sow love in a difficult situation or time, is to listen with as much grace as I can muster, listening one to one. When I listen with full attention, without judgement, I begin to hear the person behind the words. I try to listen until all of their words are wrung out and then let them know I heard. In difficult conversations, everyone has to disarm to get to actual conversation.
What a beautiful practice, Leslie. To listen with care and attention is quite a gift. (To both listener and speaker.) 🕊🤍
One to one, in person, is easier. I have had to limit what I take in from the news, I am so full of reaction and there is no 'person' to make connection with. Such vile things are said, and I have to wonder if they could speak the same way, one to one. I think It is different in a community like what you are gathering here, where there is a mutual agreement to civility and care. It makes a difference.
I agree. Thanks for being here.
"The word, heartache, is indeed apt." This line and then the passage on sow and love's generosity have touched me.
I read this after Tara (generously and lovingly) connected our posts in her note. So I was searching among it to find my own pondering reflected and did, along with the beauty of yours. We are always sowing, aren't we? By where we put our attention. By what we share. By our action or inaction. By our response to heartache and fear. By our openness to generosity and love.
Thank you for this post. I will be holding the word sow close to my heart, especially whenever ache comes in.
I love this insight about sowing. It reminds me that I’m happiest when planting seeds. That impulse to life, to growth is pure magic. And to have even a small hand in it is the greatest gift. Thanks for being here, Holly. 🕊️🤍
"We are always sowing, aren't we? By where we put our attention. By what we share. By our action or inaction. By our response to heartache and fear. By our openness to generosity and love."--That is so beautiful, Holly! Thank you.
Thank you, Leslie.
I'm just loving Julie's posts on these passages--so much generative thinking created.
And these conversations are a lovely bonus!
Isn't it?! 💚
Thank you for this balm Julie. I have been away from Homecoming for awhile, and it seems like my computer in general. Today I've finally had a chance to sit down and have a good read and find this piece of comfort.
Thanks for being here, Donna. I'm glad this provided some comfort. 🕊🤍
I do not have a secular belief system or foundation but what I do have is a relationship with nature that, I believe, has to be just as satisfying. But, I appreciate the relationship others have and have been looking forward to your insight and progression and learning with this project.
What resonates with me, "They say the opposite of love isn’t hate, but fear." Such an insightful consideration that I must mull over. My first thoughts are how to turn this knowledge into something valuable in conversations that feel, right now for me, so difficult, even impossible.
I feel this, Stacy! It’s always grounding to turn to our leafy, feathered, finned, and otherwise “different” kin. 💚🕊️
I am a huge fan of Saint Francis despite my Protestant roots. He rejected his privileged status as the son of a wealthy merchant and spent his life in humble service.
I’ve met two Franciscans during my travels. One ran a hospice in Haiti where people arrived on stretchers through the front door and left in simple coffins out the back door. The other was building a school and clinic in a hellish refugee camp outside Khartoum.
Both were in situations that were very difficult and uncomfortable, but both had a spirit of serenity and joy that was contagious.
We need more men like them.
What a testament to St Francis, to live in such ways. Thanks for being here. 🕊️🤍
Timely, undoubtedly.
Thanks for being here, Mary. 🕊️🤍
Hatred engenders hatred, yet inadvertently sows the seeds of love, which in turn does the reverse, ergo the same. This is the cycle of life. We observe, consider and attempt to morph.....