“There must be always remaining in every one’s life some place for the singing of angels, some place for that which in itself is breathlessly beautiful and, by an inherent prerogative, throws all the rest of life into a new and creative relatedness, something that gathers up in itself all the freshest of experience from drab to commonplace areas of living and glows in on bright white light of penetrating beauty and meaning —then passes.”
I have saved this post, and read it again and again. The murmurings of the angels accompany the leisure walks, to be sure, but also the walking commute to work, and even the work itself, amidst the computer workstations and the cubicles. I hear them because you have taught me that they are there to be heard.
My granddaughter had a similar experience at age five. We were coming out of the O’Neil Tunnel in Boston and before us was a magnificently
Sunset. Nora became transfixed, staring in awe for a long moment. Didn’t move. When she came to she was so quiet, absorbed. She was truly blessed. She is maturing into a very attentive, art loving little one attracted to her environment. Last month it was the Berkshire sky.
Carrie, thank you for this beautiful reflection and reminder to stop and listen. Thurman was one of my earliest mentors and through the years he has continued to speak to me about slowing down and savoring the simple things in life. I appreciate your take on this beautiful reflection of his and on the magic of contemplative photography or Visio Divina.
That moment comes to me frequently. At church, while painting a landscape, or while just staring at the thicket behind where I live. GOD is all around us. Slow down and take the time to see HIM.
I had a kind of visual singing of the angels yesterday afternoon while I was walking our dogs. It was prompted by a sunset with multiple pastel colors across the sky against a backdrop of mature bare trees. I believe these moments are always available if we can keep open to them but as you point out most of time we are too busy to notice.
I love so many quotes from your writing from your daughter saying "the whispering of angels" to your writing about your love for autumn. I have been thinking about angels and the autumn of life quite a bit. First I am doing a study on "It's A Wonderful Life" which of course makes you focus on an angel. Second: I lost my sister 6 weeks ago so I have been thinking about "the autumn of life" and remembering, crying, and looking for ways to soothe my soul. Nature always helps me to find comfort. From the trees to the birds to the quiet of nature I feel closer to her and hear "the singing of angels" that bring comfort to my broken heart.
I'm so sorry for your loss. Yes, I find that nature does bring me closer to the spiritual in a comforting and restorative way. Thanks for your vulnerability.
Thank you Carrie for this. I will take that walk soon. I am sharing a brief process writing here as I have come to value the space you provide for us to reflect-process and even grieve. If this is not appropriate-please delete and let me know:
PROCESS MIND AT WORK:
Sitting on this Sunday morning and reflecting on tragedy that is both close and far away (although is anything tragic that far away?)
Aware that I have inside of me some words to share out loud-now. Feel free to scroll on at this point.
____________________________
Yesterday-those here in Central Tennessee were witness to the extremes of nature. Tornado sirens sounded twice on our cell phones and the skies were deeply dark and full of wrath and rage-or so it seemed.
Tornadoes did sit down north of us and some 6 people lost their lives as a result. One was a 2 year old. Writing that just takes a breath away. A small innocent life that no doubt had no understanding of what was happening and then..gone. I cannot imagine how her parents are processing any of this today.
It is in these instances that I do not like the randomness of life. The way in which I -a 70 year old man-can escape such tragedy and yet this new life gets taken. It does not help to point to God or God's will or "they are in a better place"-no comfort there for me.
Mind you-I do not blame my Creator. I do not stand and rail against the heavens as I do not believe that the God of my understanding (whom today I call Father-Mother-God) wills' any thing associated with chaos and randomness and death.
So Mystery becomes my best grasp of some place to hold the sadness and grief of a little 2 year old's death-and her family and the families of the other 5 taken in the storm yesterday near Clarksville and Nashville.
I am also reflecting on a recent experience of working with and holding space for some 50 teachers who experienced the horror of school shooting and the death of both children and adults some 8 months ago. Sitting with 7 of these absolutely incredible humans and holding them as they shared their grief and their questions-"why?"
And no answer to give. Except the answer of presence and caring.
And the daily awareness of the human suffering in Gaza, Ukraine, Somalia, Sudan, Afghanistan, with thousands of innocent children, women and young and old men who hold nothing close to the ideology that fuels hate and revenge.
Isn't it easier to just turn away? Turn off the news? Watch the next Netflix release?
No answers here. Just process.
And...
What I know and can do is hold all of it and respond with heart and resources. Resources include donations of time and money and prayer space and......
Mystery (often called the Great Mystery by Indigenous Communities) stirs inside of me-leans me into and not away and this is where I rest for now. I know I must lean towards. I believe in a Creator that always leans into and not away. And the example of Jesus The Christ creates a blueprint of sorts. A blueprint that never makes sense and always makes love.
I hear that 60's song, "Lean On Me" playing in my mental archive and remember how it made me feel in my youth. "Lean on me-when you are troubled-I'll be your friend-I'll help you carry on."
We all need someone to lean on. And face-embrace the Mystery. And feel the sadness of the loss of a 2 year old. And 5 others from a weather event. And war. And human ignorance.
Pablo, I find such comfort in knowing you are among the “trees” Carrie writes of here reaching out your branches to all other humans to call out, “I am here.” Thank you for sharing this reflection. Thank you for the love and comfort your presence brings both here in this space and out there in the world. From Colorado I call out to you, I am here” appreciating you and saying Yes, amen to all you wrote. Thank you and blessings of comfort and presence from afar.
I loved reading the original piece and the beautiful comments about the gentle whisper of angels...last night at two in the morning we had horrendous winds and all I could think of was there must be a multitude of angels swirling in the sky coming to surround us during these perilous times...it gave me hope
Carrie, once again your beautiful writing touched my soul with astounding peace and a sweet suggestion to go to the woods today and listen to the stillness. Thank you. ❤️🙏❤️
I too have a sacred grove of trees on my property, but instead of Beech Trees I have 9 Buckeye Trees. (fitting since I live in Ohio). During the COVID pandemic, I took an online course on Celtic Spirituality with Jane Burns and discovered that these holy outdoor spaces are called Nemetons. Here's a definition:
Nemeton
A nemeton (plural: nemeta) was a sacred space of ancient Celtic religion. Nemeta appear to have been primarily situated in natural areas, often sacred groves.
This year in New York I have seen December dandelions and rosebuds on my daily walk through my neighborhood; I don’t ever remember seeing them in my six decades of living! I wrote this poem this morning as a response to this lovely, unexpected sight:
December dandelions peek out
from frost-bitten faded grass,
their tentative yellow faces
half-closed, pointed petals
still seeking any light in shorter days,
waiting and watching through longer nights.
Some have gone to dreaming-
their soft white bodies
ready to fly with the breath of the wind
into the promise and the uncertainty
of where or when they will land,
but letting go anyway, scattering seeds,
living and dying and living again.
Thank you, Carrie, and to all who gather in this space to share the singing of angels!
It was just yesterday that I resumed my neighborhood walks. I went by the secluded pond that I call Tranquility and was stunned by her late fall barren beauty. I,too,am awed by the beauty of bare trees reaching upward. And the voice of an angel accompanied me ,Carrie, as I listened to your songs comfort and challenge and inspire me . I took photos , a few up close of a single green leaf holding on for one more day.
In my new locale, the Blue Ridge mountains, I get to walk among the trees on a daily basis. When I’m paying attention, I absorb their messages. They have a lot to say, as you astutely and poetically point out, Carrie.
I count on them sharing their wisdom, and you sharing your beautiful music!
I have saved this post, and read it again and again. The murmurings of the angels accompany the leisure walks, to be sure, but also the walking commute to work, and even the work itself, amidst the computer workstations and the cubicles. I hear them because you have taught me that they are there to be heard.
My granddaughter had a similar experience at age five. We were coming out of the O’Neil Tunnel in Boston and before us was a magnificently
Sunset. Nora became transfixed, staring in awe for a long moment. Didn’t move. When she came to she was so quiet, absorbed. She was truly blessed. She is maturing into a very attentive, art loving little one attracted to her environment. Last month it was the Berkshire sky.
Carrie, thank you for this beautiful reflection and reminder to stop and listen. Thurman was one of my earliest mentors and through the years he has continued to speak to me about slowing down and savoring the simple things in life. I appreciate your take on this beautiful reflection of his and on the magic of contemplative photography or Visio Divina.
That moment comes to me frequently. At church, while painting a landscape, or while just staring at the thicket behind where I live. GOD is all around us. Slow down and take the time to see HIM.
So beautiful. I believe you have found the mother tree for the younger beeches.
I had a kind of visual singing of the angels yesterday afternoon while I was walking our dogs. It was prompted by a sunset with multiple pastel colors across the sky against a backdrop of mature bare trees. I believe these moments are always available if we can keep open to them but as you point out most of time we are too busy to notice.
I love so many quotes from your writing from your daughter saying "the whispering of angels" to your writing about your love for autumn. I have been thinking about angels and the autumn of life quite a bit. First I am doing a study on "It's A Wonderful Life" which of course makes you focus on an angel. Second: I lost my sister 6 weeks ago so I have been thinking about "the autumn of life" and remembering, crying, and looking for ways to soothe my soul. Nature always helps me to find comfort. From the trees to the birds to the quiet of nature I feel closer to her and hear "the singing of angels" that bring comfort to my broken heart.
I'm so sorry for your loss. Yes, I find that nature does bring me closer to the spiritual in a comforting and restorative way. Thanks for your vulnerability.
Standing in my skis the path narrows through the Doug Firs, Grand Pines, Ponderosa's
Heavy snow twirls , covering my red coat, blurring the trees, softening the memories
Angels everwhere
Thank you Carrie for this. I will take that walk soon. I am sharing a brief process writing here as I have come to value the space you provide for us to reflect-process and even grieve. If this is not appropriate-please delete and let me know:
PROCESS MIND AT WORK:
Sitting on this Sunday morning and reflecting on tragedy that is both close and far away (although is anything tragic that far away?)
Aware that I have inside of me some words to share out loud-now. Feel free to scroll on at this point.
____________________________
Yesterday-those here in Central Tennessee were witness to the extremes of nature. Tornado sirens sounded twice on our cell phones and the skies were deeply dark and full of wrath and rage-or so it seemed.
Tornadoes did sit down north of us and some 6 people lost their lives as a result. One was a 2 year old. Writing that just takes a breath away. A small innocent life that no doubt had no understanding of what was happening and then..gone. I cannot imagine how her parents are processing any of this today.
It is in these instances that I do not like the randomness of life. The way in which I -a 70 year old man-can escape such tragedy and yet this new life gets taken. It does not help to point to God or God's will or "they are in a better place"-no comfort there for me.
Mind you-I do not blame my Creator. I do not stand and rail against the heavens as I do not believe that the God of my understanding (whom today I call Father-Mother-God) wills' any thing associated with chaos and randomness and death.
So Mystery becomes my best grasp of some place to hold the sadness and grief of a little 2 year old's death-and her family and the families of the other 5 taken in the storm yesterday near Clarksville and Nashville.
I am also reflecting on a recent experience of working with and holding space for some 50 teachers who experienced the horror of school shooting and the death of both children and adults some 8 months ago. Sitting with 7 of these absolutely incredible humans and holding them as they shared their grief and their questions-"why?"
And no answer to give. Except the answer of presence and caring.
And the daily awareness of the human suffering in Gaza, Ukraine, Somalia, Sudan, Afghanistan, with thousands of innocent children, women and young and old men who hold nothing close to the ideology that fuels hate and revenge.
Isn't it easier to just turn away? Turn off the news? Watch the next Netflix release?
No answers here. Just process.
And...
What I know and can do is hold all of it and respond with heart and resources. Resources include donations of time and money and prayer space and......
Mystery (often called the Great Mystery by Indigenous Communities) stirs inside of me-leans me into and not away and this is where I rest for now. I know I must lean towards. I believe in a Creator that always leans into and not away. And the example of Jesus The Christ creates a blueprint of sorts. A blueprint that never makes sense and always makes love.
I hear that 60's song, "Lean On Me" playing in my mental archive and remember how it made me feel in my youth. "Lean on me-when you are troubled-I'll be your friend-I'll help you carry on."
We all need someone to lean on. And face-embrace the Mystery. And feel the sadness of the loss of a 2 year old. And 5 others from a weather event. And war. And human ignorance.
__________________________
And now I will count to 12. (Thank you Pablo)
Beautiful words
Pablo, I find such comfort in knowing you are among the “trees” Carrie writes of here reaching out your branches to all other humans to call out, “I am here.” Thank you for sharing this reflection. Thank you for the love and comfort your presence brings both here in this space and out there in the world. From Colorado I call out to you, I am here” appreciating you and saying Yes, amen to all you wrote. Thank you and blessings of comfort and presence from afar.
Sorry, I see your name is Rick. Pablo must be the one who gave you the countdown tip! Peace, Rick! Your reflection found a kindred spirit today!
I loved reading the original piece and the beautiful comments about the gentle whisper of angels...last night at two in the morning we had horrendous winds and all I could think of was there must be a multitude of angels swirling in the sky coming to surround us during these perilous times...it gave me hope
Carrie, once again your beautiful writing touched my soul with astounding peace and a sweet suggestion to go to the woods today and listen to the stillness. Thank you. ❤️🙏❤️
I love this! You have such a way of writing what I feel. It's so nice to not be alone in appreciating the simple beauty of nature.
I too have a sacred grove of trees on my property, but instead of Beech Trees I have 9 Buckeye Trees. (fitting since I live in Ohio). During the COVID pandemic, I took an online course on Celtic Spirituality with Jane Burns and discovered that these holy outdoor spaces are called Nemetons. Here's a definition:
Nemeton
A nemeton (plural: nemeta) was a sacred space of ancient Celtic religion. Nemeta appear to have been primarily situated in natural areas, often sacred groves.
So come angels come!
This year in New York I have seen December dandelions and rosebuds on my daily walk through my neighborhood; I don’t ever remember seeing them in my six decades of living! I wrote this poem this morning as a response to this lovely, unexpected sight:
December dandelions peek out
from frost-bitten faded grass,
their tentative yellow faces
half-closed, pointed petals
still seeking any light in shorter days,
waiting and watching through longer nights.
Some have gone to dreaming-
their soft white bodies
ready to fly with the breath of the wind
into the promise and the uncertainty
of where or when they will land,
but letting go anyway, scattering seeds,
living and dying and living again.
Thank you, Carrie, and to all who gather in this space to share the singing of angels!
Love the poem! Thank you for sharing it.
It was just yesterday that I resumed my neighborhood walks. I went by the secluded pond that I call Tranquility and was stunned by her late fall barren beauty. I,too,am awed by the beauty of bare trees reaching upward. And the voice of an angel accompanied me ,Carrie, as I listened to your songs comfort and challenge and inspire me . I took photos , a few up close of a single green leaf holding on for one more day.
Thank you for today's offering!
In my new locale, the Blue Ridge mountains, I get to walk among the trees on a daily basis. When I’m paying attention, I absorb their messages. They have a lot to say, as you astutely and poetically point out, Carrie.
I count on them sharing their wisdom, and you sharing your beautiful music!