Sharing Words that Open the Heart
The workshop is being facilitated by Trish Dowd Kelne with the assistance of Faith Club members from Ottawa University (when available).Trish has worked in the nonprofit setting for 15 years, with community outreach, education and empowerment. She was co-chair of Martha and Mary’s Way, an interfaith organization and has facilitated poetry and prayer classes for the retired religious professionals. She is dedicated to faith based outreach. She is a certified instructor for the Academy of Tai Qi through which she teaches classes and seminars. Trish received her degree in Creative Writing from Kansas State University, her facilitation certification from Winter Center and her Tai Qi certification from HuoLong Studios.
This offering is provided through a partnership with Winter Center (a community non-profit) and Fredrikson Center for Faith and Church Vitality.
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Part I—
Joan Stephen “Morning Grace”
R. S. Thomas “Threshold”
Susan Gerrish “God’s Love”
James Wright “A Blessing”
Thomas Merton Excerpt from “Faith”
Eileen P. O’Hea “Consolation”
Mary Oliver Excerpt from “Flare” - 2
8.
The poem is not the world.
It isn’t even the first page of the world.
But the poem wants to flower, like a flower.
It knows that much.
It wants to open itself,
like the door of a little temple,
so that you might step inside and be cooled and refreshed,
and less yourself than part of everything.
Mary Oliver
From “Flare” from The Leaf and the Cloud: A Poem
Morning Grace
We thank Thee God
as we watch
the distant hills
suddenly emerge
above the filmy, white mist
and gently touch heaven—
awakening the sun
for another day.
Joan Stephen
From Graces Selected and Edited by June Cotner
Threshold
I emerge from the mind’s
cave into the worse darkness
outside, where things pass and
the Lord is in none of them.
I have heard the still, small voice
and it was that of the bacteria
demolishing my cosmos. I
have lingered too long on
this threshold, but where can I go?
To look back is to lose the soul
I was leading upwards towards
the light. To look forward? Ah,
what balance is needed at
the edges of such an abyss.
I am alone on the surface
of a turning planet. What
to do but, like Michelangelo’s
Adam, put my hand
out into unknown space,
hoping for the reciprocating touch?
R. S. Thomas, “Threshold”
from The Poems of R. S. Thomas.
Copyright © by Kunjana Thomas 2001.
God’s Love
If you seek peace, you will have none. If you seek life, you will lose it. If you seek wealth, you will find poverty of the soul. If you seek adventure, you will be unfulfilled. If you seek joy, you will ache with sorrow. If you seek love, you will despair in loneliness. If you seek God, you will find God. You will have peace that surpasses understanding, gain eternal life, find true wealth, be fulfilled, worship in joy, and revel in God’s love.
Susan Gerrish
From Graces Selected and Edited by June Cotner
A Blessing
Just off the Highway to Rochester, Minnesota
Twilight bounds softly forth on the grass.And the eyes of those two Indian ponies Darken with kindness.They have come gladly out of the willows
To welcome my friend and me.We step over the barbed wire into the pasture
Where they have been grazing all day, alone.They ripple tensely, they can hardly contain their happiness
That we have come. They bow shyly as wet swans. They love each other. There is no loneliness like theirs.
At home once more,They begin munching the young tufts of spring in the darkness.I would like to hold the slenderer one in my arms,
For she has walked over to meAnd nuzzled my left hand.
She is black and white,Her mane falls wild on her forehead, And the light breeze moves me to caress her long ear
That is delicate as the skin over a girl's wrist.Suddenly I realize
That if I stepped out of my body I would break Into blossom.
James Wright
From Above the River
©Farrar, Straus, Giroux, and The University Press of New England
But when the time comes to enter the darkness in which we are naked and helpless
and alone; in which we see the insufficiency of our great strength and the
hollowness of our strongest virtues; in which we have nothing of our own to rely
on, and nothing in our nature supports us, and nothing in the world to guide or
give us light—then we find out whether or not we live by faith.
It is in this our darkness, when there is nothing left in us that can please or
comfort, when we seem to have failed, when we seem to be destroyed and devoured, it is then that the deep and secret selfishness that is too close for us to
identify is stripped away from our souls. It is in this darkness that we find true
liberty. It is in this abandonment that we are made strong. This is the night
which empties us and makes us pure.
Thomas Merton
Excerpt from “Faith” (pg 102)
From Seeds Selected and Edited by Robert Inchausti
Consolation
I did not know
—had no idea—
that in loving you
I would discover
you are loving me
yesterday, today,
tomorrow, now;
and , quite dearly.
Your touch so tender,
your glance consuming,
but never overwhelming—
just there—
if I dare
look up
and meet your gaze of love.
How pathetic my striving,
how foolish my fear
of disappointing you.
You whose name is Love.
You are all that is,
and your Love—
sweet, gentle,
an abyss of light
cushioning my soul.
Eileen P. O’Hea
From In Wisdom’s Kitchen
You still recall, sometimes, the old barn on your great-grandfather’s farm, a place you visited once, and went into, all alone, while the grownups sat and talked in the house.
It was empty, or almost. Wisps of hay covered the floor, and some wasps sang at the windows, and maybe there was a strange fluttering bird high above, disturbed, hoo-ing a little and staring down from a messy ledge with wild, binocular eyes.
Mostly, though, it smelled of milk, and the patience of animals; the give-offs of the body were still in the air, a vague ammonia, not unpleasant.
Mostly, though, it was restful and secret, the roof high up and arched, the boards unpainted and plain.
You could have stayed there forever, a small child in a corner, on the last raft of hay, dazzled by so much space that seemed empty, but wasn’t.
Then—you still remember—you felt the rap of hunger—it was noon—and you turned from that twilight dream and hurried back to the house, where the table was set, where an uncle patted you on the shoulder for welcome, and there was your place at the table.
Mary Oliver
From “Flare” from The Leaf and the Cloud: A Poem