Laurie Klein, Scribe

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Sanctuary

by Laurie Klein 11 Chiming In

Can one person be a bird sanctuary?

June 3rd marks the feast day for Irish monk St. Kevin and his legendary blackbird. T’is a fine time for admiring flight, I’m thinking. Or savoring an omelette.

Celtic legend describes Kevin at prayer in his one-monk hut, an arm extended through the window, his palm raised.

Enter the Emerald Isle’s elite songster: a blackbird (not to be confused with big-mouth American blackbirds).

Blackbird
Starling? Grackle? Crow? You tell me . . .

American blackbirds—especially en masse—can be bullies: strident, messy, a threat to crops and property.

Kevin’s songbird, on the other hand (literally), alighted gently, perhaps on his thumb. Finding his warmth congenial, she settled in, laid eggs.

Motionless, wonder-struck, Kevin offered her sanctuary. Day after day, so the legend goes.

Why sacrifice plans (and personal space) for a bird?

At home in the Temple

Psalm 84:3-4 celebrates those who dwell in God’s sanctuary—including birds. In ancient Israel’s temple, a swallow built her nest near the altar. Religious leaders with opinions and brooms probably gathered.

What message did that nest send? Shoddy upkeep? Lazy priests?

Or perhaps, more inclusively, Creation’s feathered counterpoint to the Levite choir?

The nest remained, an audio/visual for the radical hospitality of the One who knows when a sparrow falls to the ground.

Becoming sanctuary

Kevin’s hand graciously cradled one small bird—his spirit already a sanctuary for God’s presence.

Confined to his hut, the man’s surrender to the unexpected inspires me.

St. Kevin’s Blackbird

Outstretched in Lent, Kevin’s hand
did not expect
the blackbird’s egg, its speckled warmth,

new-laid, in his uplifted palm. Think prayer
as nest: an intimate travail whereby
fledgling hopes, like birds, leave behind

a kind of grave. Amen, seeming
premature, the saint-in-waiting
dovetailed faith with knuckles.

alternative bird sanctuary

Faithfulness takes time. We knuckle down to wait, in hope, for things as yet unseen.

Cue impatience and hunger and the cramp of muscles and numbness and pins-and-needles. Cue ongoing attitude adjustments.

Had it been me in that hut, Mama Bird would have been relocated ASAP.

Saint Laurie, however, prefers to imagine catching aphids for her with my free hand. Naming her something mystical. Learning her song (while suppressing that niggling yen for applause, modest fame, a personal feast day).

Then, having waved farewell, I would weep (beatifically).

And afterward, did Kevin save those eggshell bits,
adorn his windowsill with each goodbye
the smallest beak ever made?

He never said. Nor will he
know these hearts of ours,
more shell than shelter…

Much as I want to faithfully be a safe place for those God sends my way—human, animal, avian—I’m bound to crack, then lament my frailty.

And then begin again, remembering He who was first broken for us will always lovingly
…know these hearts of ours,
more shell than shelter

as they fissure, let in light enough
for Christ to enter. Yes,
let grief be, with every breath, a readied womb.

Crown of Thorns

How do you practice offering sanctuary? I’d love to know.

Click to hear  “Lord, Prepare Me”
(sung by Kent Henry, written by Randy Scruggs/John Thompson)

Click to hear the European blackbird’s song

Click to watch blackbirds feeding their young

  • “St. Kevin’s Blackbird,” from Laurie’s book, Where the Sky Opens

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Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: nest, radical hospitality, St; Kevin's Blackbird, surrender, wonder May 30, 2017

Alternatives: Shoehorn Rejuvenation Method

by Laurie Klein 10 Chiming In

ALTERNATIVES, noun, definition:

1:  options, choices, other possibilities.
2:  existing or functioning outside the established cultural, social, or economic system

Day after day, exponential rain. Multiple weekly appointments, and miles logged. Then the waiting. Driving again. More rain.

Aerobic walks? Postponed. Eventually shelved. Rehab for Dreamer (and chauffeur) is time-intensive.

And something’s missing . . .

[Read more…]

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: alternatives, Nature Deficit Disorder, rejuvenation, Weil breathing technique, wonder May 17, 2017

Soul Mimosa — Photos, Music

by Laurie Klein 24 Chiming In

Soul Mimosa time — from our studios to you!

I’ve assembled autumn and winter images from nature for your enjoyment. Click below to hear Bill perform the traditional Czech “Carol of the Drum” (~ 1800s) on Celtic harp, recorders, and drum as you scroll.

Enter the wonder. Absorb the hush . . .

https://lauriekleinscribe.com/wp-content/uploads/Carol-of-the-Drum-Harp.mp3

Ornamental

Maple Leaf, Blown Grass

Autumn leaves

Spun Magic

Autumn Snowberries

Cone, Rain Bough

Soul Mimosa

Frost, Ivy

Doe, a Deer

Snow Shower

Frozen

Ice Slice

slear skies

Flash Frozen

Ice!

Off the Staff

Night-cicles

Donkey in Soft Snowfall

Christmas Carol

 

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Merry Christmas, friends! We hope you enjoyed our collaboration. May Peace and Presence enfold you, and yours, now and always. 

“Carol of the Drum,” traditional tune from the 1800s. Celtic harp, recorders, and snare drum played by Bill Klein

Photos, Laurie Klein

Special thanks to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints for permission to photograph their Living Nativity, 2016.

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: hush, living nativity, Soul Mimosa, wonder December 18, 2016

Windfall: Urgent, Instant, Demanding Joy

by Laurie Klein 24 Chiming In

Windfall —”an unexpected gain” — who wouldn’t want one?

Oh, have I got a story for you, a tale worth a roomful of candles and cake . . . windfall of candles

S.O.S.

One week ago the local adoption agency phoned our eldest daughter, mother to our 16-month-old grandson. The agency’s request was urgent, the need, dire.

A struggling newborn in the Deaconess Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) needed someone to help her learn to eat. Hopefully, to thrive. Overworked nurses wanted someone calm and caring to hold one tiny girl, coax her into life. Would our daughter come?

She and her husband weighed the risks. There were many.

Still, she went. Stepped right into miraculous, heart-wrenching chaos for five days. We met our newest little one in NICU that first evening. Ashen and frail, with an awkward feeding port in her skull and cords snaking off to various monitors, she looked like a small electric doll. [Read more…]

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: adoption, love, Risk, unexpected, windfall, wonder, yes August 30, 2016

Spontaneity: Type-A Writer Gets Real

by Laurie Klein 20 Chiming In

Spontaneity: nice idea. Tough, though, for those with Lists. Those who don’t want their plans disturbed.

  1. Finish article
  2. Scour kitchen
  3. Shower
  4. Immerse in novel

This is Plan A. Also Plan B.

And probably C, judging from my testy response to my mate saying, “Let’s drive to Mt. Spokane!”

Disturbed by his interruption, I look up from my keyboard and probably glare.

“Great day for a picnic,” he adds, grinning. “I’ll pack the car.”

Joining him means a second, longer list:

  1. Abandon article
  2. Ignore Code 3 kitchen
  3. Postpone shower
  4. Change clothes
  5. Slather on sunscreen (i.e. baste self in 50 SPF mayo)
  6. Drive for three hours

Above all, forgo today’s Action Plan. I waffle and sputter.

Did fear write My List? If so, nothing worthwhile will bloom from my efforts.

When did I relinquish spontaneity?

Truth and Timing

At this point I remember a friend and I recently agreed, online, to each spend time enjoying nature—this weekend. It’s Sunday afternoon. Our agreement is public: As long as there are electrons, our words are out there. Talk about motivation.

Besides, what might I miss if I stay home and work?

I dress too fast, buckle myself into our vintage car. Then I notice my outfit: B&W paisley pants, t-shirt with colorful stripes, green fish, and blue swirls against black water.

En route to my closet again for plain black capris, I do the shoe-shuck dance. A last breath of delicious AC, a final gaze at my chair and books.

Today I will practice spontaneity.

Dreamer has the top down, engine running. I settle back to watch clouds. We haven’t been to the mountain in ages.

Nearing the summit, ivory splendor stuns us. It’s glorious! In forty years, we’ve never seen Beargrass bloom on Mt. Spokane.

spontaneous bloom

I almost missed out on wonder today.

Muscle and Delicacy

Beargrass ZoomOnce home again, I read about Beargrass, also called pine lily, Western turkeybeard, soap grass, and quip-quip. Showy blossoms crown hefty stalks. Per plant, up to 400 buds the size of a fingernail will unfurl.

Stamens sport long violet filaments, like movie stars in chiffon scarves.

And this: Beargrass blooms in five to seven year cycles. No wonder I’ve never seen it here!

Moving up the stalk, firework blossoms open, altering the flower’s overall shape . . .

Bloom Spontaneity Dictates Shapefrom sphere
to cone
to cylinder.

Muscular stalks bolt from a wiry nest of leaves. One source describes leaf veins as parallel “keeled rib-lines.”

I think of my own muscles, grown soft from weeks of travel.

And what about spiritual stamina? Can plants mentor people? Could I become “disturbance tolerant”?

Beargrass survives forest fire, drought, frost, and avalanche.

Beargrass thrives almost anywhere, from summits to dense forests to sea-level bogs.

Sacred Spontaneity

petal spontaneity

Is today’s List sacred?

Can you let at least part of it go, make time to be surprised by creation, and the Creator?

 

NOTE: A couple we met on the mountain said this is a banner year for Beargrass.

If you live near Spokane, cross something off your list, take a camera, some snacks, and go see it.

Or head outdoors wherever you are, see what you find . . . I’d love to hear about it.

Spontaneity rewards those who accept its invitations.

Laurie Klein, Scribe

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: Beargrass, disturbance, lists, spontaneity, wonder June 29, 2016

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