Journal Entry

I awoke to the sound of rain and wind pounding against the sliding glass door of my bedroom. I knew I had shut the door shortly after going to bed as the wind was rattling the vertical blinds, but I also knew that the window in the living room was open. So I hopped out of bed and walked into the living room to shut the window. Yup, some rain had made it inside. I closed the dining room sliding door and glanced at the thermostat – 60 degrees! I hopped back into bed to warm up. It was only 6:48 am.

At 7:20 I decided to say yes to the “be” question and got out of bed. (See blog on A Book of Hours by Thomas Merton.) A quick trip to the bathroom after slipping on my flannel shirt, then out to the thermostat. Oh, how I hate to turn on the heat in June – but 60 is just a little too cold. Ah, coffee, it smelled so good this morning. The rain continues to pound the living room windows to the north. But there is a clearing in the sky way, way to the north. I can’t see across Polson Bay as the coffee drips, but by the time I bring my cup into the living room to get my daily dose of Merton, I can – a little foggy, but the west shore is visible. Guess it will clear off.

The rain began to let up and was finished by 8:30 but the wind is still blowing, not howling but the trees and bushes are doing their dance thing. Some days like today, I love pine trees the most because it takes a lot of wind to get them moving. They are such sturdy trees. Other days like hot summer ones, I think Aspen are my favorite because their small round leaves will blow in almost any breeze and that makes me feel cooler.

Yesterday afternoon, I cut some lilacs from the bush by the deck. The branches were so hard; I’ll have to get a pair of pruning scissors before cutting any more. Poor kitchen shears just could barely handle it. The buds are beginning to fade on the lilacs but still many pretty ones. I’ll just have a bit of a mess to clean up each day. The white shrub roses are blooming now and the peonies are budded. Well, the white shrub roses were blooming; it looks as if there was a wedding on my front lawn from all the wind and rain.

So what does today hold in store for me? I have prayer quilt ministry this afternoon. That’s interaction with people and I look forward to that. I really should do a load of laundry. I love mornings – the peace of a cup of coffee and the view of the lake, the quiet of the mountains and gentle (most of the time) dance of the trees. Morning offers a renewal, a freshness, a calm energy, and yes, a hope. This will be a good day to live.

May the Peace of the Mountains be with you.

Thomas Merton - A Book of Hours, Sunday Dawn

I am using a collection of Thomas Merton's writings in my meditation practice this summer. (I know Summer begins June 20th, but if I'm in Montana then it's summer.) First, an explanation of "Hours" for anyone not use to monastery life. The "Hours" are the services that are prayed usually together in a monastery. The traditional times are dawn (6 am), day (9 am), noon, afternoon (3 pm), evening (6 pm), and night (9pm) - then it's not unheard of to pray at midnight too.


Merton's book has only four "Hours," Dawn, Day, Dusk & Dark. No, I'm not praying all four each day, but I am trying to read Dawn each morning, while I sip my first cup of coffee. I figure once I get that one down I'll move on to include "Dark" or whichever pops to mind. Baby steps stick, at least for me.


Sunday's Dawn talks of birds beginning their day. The first chirps coming before there is any real light. I love this line - "when the Father in perfect silence opens their eyes." OK, he wrote before inclusive language, but he writes so beautifully with such insight that I find I can forgive this large lapse of feminine consciousness. He goes on to say that their condition asks if it is time for them "to be," and God answers "yes." He continues addressing humanity at our awakening. The news is not so good. "There is an unspeakable secret: paradise is all around us and we do not understand."


We are too busy living our lives to wonder at the glory of a new day much less ask if we are "to be." And even if we do take the time to notice the beauty of the new day, do we think to ask the question? Can we give our awakening over to another entity, not our own volition? And if we ask the question, do we live the answer, or do we live out our own agenda?


Much pondering can go into this question. I know I have approached the chirping of birds at 4:30 am with a little more grace since reading this psalm. I am trying to remember that I am not in control of even my waking moment, but my response to every moment is in my control. So what do I need to find the correct response - patience (with myself & the situation), love (again for myself & others in the situation), & the biggest thing, memory (so that I remember to be patient & have a loving heart).


May the peace of the mountains give you peace of mind.