Years ago Rich Mullins wrote The Color Green.
One of the the things I love about marathon quilting is, even though the Lord of the Rings extended dvd’s are playing in the background. As I quilt there is sometimes a silence that comes. A place, state of being where the rhythm of quilting and the hum of the machine help to still the natter and thinking, words swirling. The stillness though.
For a long time I didn’t quite get why I sought this space. What is it about the stillness that is so desirable? Once in a conversation in mentioning this desire to go to this stillness, this quiet, this seemingly inactive place, this place where nothing seems to be happening, is alive, vibrant, beautiful. It is a place of listening, a place where the brain has the opportunity to listen. And while in the second weekend of formation in the Institute for Spiritual Direction there is a clearer understanding of this place, though I get that in this part of Life the veil, though torn and sometimes this, remains. That veil is sometimes shored up by wounds and the after effects of those wounds. This sometimes seems complicated and personal, we both know though that it is not.
In recent months I’ve re-watched Babylon 5 a few times. Time, and so many current situations bring this story line into clarity. Babylon 5 is some seriously good story telling, complete with things I missed the first time around, and the second, and. . . you get where I’m going. As the story of interconnectedness, of the maturing of different members of society and the single voices seeking unity, knowing that others will need to join in the call for, peace is the wrong word, all that is True, Beautiful, and Good.
There are those who must seek the stillness in order to listen for, surrender what is out of our control to the Creator of all, who Breathes on us, who joins us in our humanity experiencing all of what it means to be fully human, and more completely connected to God.
One of the characters that gives witness to the stillness is G’Kar, Narn, part of the ruling body, passionate, vulnerable, risk taking, and who, in his growth changes in ways that are so deeper than I noticed in the first watching. He is at times, necessarily, a warrior. Over time, through the terrible experiences he knows, he softens, he becomes, admittedly, more priestly. He recognizes this, The changes are through, through the woundedness, through the pain. This doesn’t harden him, this permits his wounded heart and head to notice the similarities in all the worlds, the brotherhood (used for ease of voice) of all these worlds. He is, in the stillness able to set aside, with great effort the pride that stands in the way of the stillness. This act of the will, one that must be and is asserted again and again, permits him to think through and do the necessary and right thing, knowing full well how he feels. G’Kar is passionate, experiencing his emotions, moving from them, and eventually moving to do the good knowing full well he does not feel like it. At. All.
I can assure you that though going to the silence is desirable, it is hard. I would often very much like to say all the words in prayer, page after glorious page in my journal. I want to ponder scripture, and look up the etymology of the word or phrase to explore and understand the meaning. And yet, the longing increases to pause, listen, check in, listen more.
There are more words connecting what I wrote here to the experience in reading and in ISD, and they will come.
For tonight though, I give thanks. Amen.
God bless,
Teri
A Quilter's Heart 