I made a mistake this morning. Just up, wondering whether our political system would lurch another step closer to some final melt-down, I turned cable news on. As I watched, I found myself sucked into that world of posturing and lies, that world in which it seems truth cannot survive and where hope is so hard to find.

I do not avoid the news these days, though I know some of you do. But I have to be prepared to be present to it. What I find is that without preparation engaging the news of the day does not promote compassion in me. It may be necessary for me to follow political developments, but it can compromise the love I can offer myself and limit the love I can offer the world.

I needed to find my center this morning. As I looked out my kitchen window, I saw first the branches of the Sweet Gum tree, just beginning to leaf, late as always. It was a reminder of the persistence of new life and a reminder that new life emerges in its own time. And beyond that tree, I saw the mountains in the distance, visible under the low hanging clouds.

And I remembered this poem, inspired by the 121st Psalm, which I share with you in hopes that it might help ground you to survive this day and these days, as it did me this morning.

Love Abundant by Alicia Forde

I lift up my eyes to the hills
From where will my help come?
my help comes from Love abundant.
my help comes from the hills
my help—my help, it comes from
ancient Mothers whose hearts beat in mine.
It comes from the trees that sway and the breeze that sways
them…
my help comes from all that was and is and will ever be…
I lift my eyes…hushed by the soothing touch of waves
caressing wounded shores
wounded souls
I lift my eyes…to the horizon bathed by
the hum of mothers and mothers’ mothers
cradling—gently rocking
I lift my voice—call of the sea trees sister moon mother
earth
my soul weeping—a symphony of life overflowing
I give myself
I too hum through every pore
with every breath
I give myself—
an extension
of all that is, was, and ever will be.

Blessings,

Bill