I am thinking about losses. In the memories that come to mind, I see that I lacked discernment before the losses occurred. There had been all kinds of little fires to put out, which I did my best to do, but I had not yet discerned the source of those fires.

So, when we experience something as a loss, before we look around for someone to blame, let's ask ourselves if we have avoided good discernment prior to this event.

I am slowly building confidence in my ability to be discerning. As I think about the connections between losses and discernment, I wonder what I could be discerning now, to protect myself from further loss.

Several weeks ago, I was sitting in this chair I am now sitting in and a grace came to me. It was as If I were suddenly aware that I was held in a column of light, a beam of creative energy. In that moment, I knew that what I said was important. The words I choose to speak could make my day flat and dark or open it to unseen power and love.

This morning I read Hebrews 11: 1 -3 as a part of the daily scripture readings of our church calendar. It states that "Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. Indeed by faith our ancestors received approval. By faith we understand that the worlds were prepared by the word of God, so that what is seen was made from things that are not seen."

Could it be that our words carry the potential to bring into this world, into our relationships something new from an unseen source? I believe so.

I think we all know that what we say can bring new life or not to our situations. We know we need to work at being responsible for our words. Yet, this responsibility is supported by a power outside of ourselves. The fire we hold within is not the only fire or source of life. God comes to us from within and from without. Let's be attentive to both of those sources! God also comes to us in the gifts and the needs of others. Yes, this is true also. So, the conversation goes on . . .

One night a month a group meets at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville, PA to talk about their dreams. To support this on-going conversation we are reading Digesting Jung: Food for the Journey by Daryl Sharp.

Here is a sample from Carl Jung's work that Sharp gives us to chew on: 

"As Long as analysis moves on the mental plane nothing happens, you can discuss whatever you please, it makes no difference, but when you strike against something below the surface, then a thought comes up in the form of an experience, and stands before you like an object . . . . Whenever you experience a thing that way, you know instantly that it is a fact." (The Visions Seminars, pp. 337f.)

Last fall, I was working through yet one more snaggle with a young, long-term house guest. I was leaving town and she was punishing me for that. She also had a plan to leave town three days later, but in her accusations, failed to reference that fact. Well, I kept calling her to our parallel behaviors. Sometimes she left town, sometimes I left town. As we labored on, I planned to say that I wished her the very best. To my surprise, what came to mind, instead of "wishing you the best in your time here," was "love," "I love you." Until that moment I did not know that I loved her. Sitting beside her at the table in our great room, I felt love her and told her so. Love was the thought for me that came up as an experience.

Has this happened to you? How has data from beyond your consciousness come to you? What do you do when you sense that something other than your plan wants to be made known? What do you call it? Inspiration? Intuition? Something you knew all along? And what do you do with it?

Look
at light
on the leaves
in the morning,
the leaves readying themselves
to leap
to be changed.

Steve Jobs did it,
and we have heard
bits of his story, our
story in his life and death.

I am being called to
"do it," to release
and be reborn today
in this my latest
season, my current
season of growth
which at times
appears as only diminishment.

Look again at these leaves
bright, lit
from behind
and now appear
so beautifully
this morning.

Each is held
well on its
branch, now
glowing gold, orange,
with shadows of green.

The light is
changing,
different
branches come
to me lit so
well for
me to see
cascading.

Now I
lean forward
in my car seat
and see the
whole of
the tree
this chestnut
tree that could be
60 years old
as I am.

So I stand
as the tree stands,
rooted, healthy
welcoming light
on every part of
my visible self.

Wanting, learning to
trust the
work, the life of
God in me,
God with us,
beside this very
crowded state highway.

You can hear me read it if you click on my podcast page, a new element of the website.