Saint Francis and the Sow

The bud

stands for all things,

even for those things that don’t flower,

for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;

though sometimes it is necessary

to reteach a thing its loveliness,

to put a hand on its brow

of the flower

and retell it in words and in touch

it is lovely

until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing;

as Saint Francis

put his hand on the creased forehead

of the sow, and told her in words and in touch

blessings of earth on the sow, and the sow

began remembering all down her thick length,

from the earthen snout all the way

through the fodder and slops to the spiritual curl of the tail,

from the hard spininess spiked out from the spine

down through the great broken heart

to the sheer blue milken dreaminess spurting and shuddering

from the fourteen teats into the fourteen mouths sucking and blowing beneath them:

the long, perfect loveliness of sow.

- Galway Kinnell

Down through the great broken heart… the sow, the mother of fourteen who knows a possible fate for each of them. St. Francis, my mother’s adopted saint, touches the sow on the forehead to remind her of the earth, the love of the earth, the joy of being with the earth and so, for now, for this time, this moment, this present, the sow experiences love, exquisite love, and she does not fear for the future.

Here are some thoughts:

I’ve been meditating for what I think is a long time, but is very short in comparison to people who have committed their lives to meditation. I’ve been meditating long enough to experience that it isn’t me meditating or doing anything, really. I’m being still. I’m being quiet. I’m listening.

It wasn’t always this way for me. Processes, invisible or visible, appear. I follow a path. I stop and look around. I see the path. I follow a path.

Meditation is the stop and look around part. Meditation serves love. Stop and look around is an action of love.

St. Francis helps the sow to stop and look around. St. Francis offers a blessing.

How do we bless life?

Last night I joined a meditation group, 30 minutes, and in this space of time I experienced the physical knowing of great joy, love and sorrow. Why? I am here to serve love.

I’ve been waking in the wee hours of the morning and sitting with the darkness, night after night. I’ve been imagining myself journeying to the bedside of all the people I love and letting them know, you are loved, you are love.

It seems like it might be a radical act of love, the idea arising from the darkest and longest nights in the northern hemisphere.

In my days, I’m aware of the suffering of the world. I’m aware of many details of the suffering of the world.

My teacher, Meg Wheatley, reminded me, Warriors meditate with their eyes open. We can learn how to face anything this way.

Thank you Meg.

Thank you St. Francis.

Thank you Mom

Thank you meditation group last night

Thank you darkness

Thank you light