At the foot of the mesa, a modern museum and tourist center tells the Acoma story and prepares visitors for the world they are about to enter. A small tour bus winds up the backside of the mesa on a road constructed just a few decades ago. It delivers you to a world remarkably unchanged in 1000 years, a world without electricity or running water, a silent world suspended in brilliant color and endless vistas. Those whom the tribe has chosen as spiritual elders live there and never leave the mesa for the duration of their office. Artisans and others, usually grandparents, also choose to live there and families return for feast days and celebrations to their ancestral homes throughout the year.
Stand beneath the bowl of blue sky, circle 360 degrees, take in the cliffs, the valley, and hills spread below. Shade your eyes against the piercing pure color that shimmers all around. Breathe in exhilarating freshness and the numinous becomes possible-even quite likely. You can feel it at your elbow, in the earth beneath your feet, something real and other worldly. In the moment, this is the only real that matters.
Our farewell was a reluctant one as we boarded the tour bus and headed back into the world we'd left. Later, on our return drive, we stopped our car at a stunning overlook for more pictures. There was a young Acoma man there, in his early 20’s, helping some women set up their souvenir tent. We struck up a conversation and I told him how impressed I'd been by the pueblo and the stories of the elders who lived there. "Not all elders are old," he said. "I hope to be living there one day too."
He started telling me about his way of life and how every morning he rises as close to dawn as he can and as he watches the sun, he prays, he prays for all people. He looked at me and said, "I pray for you, I pray for everyone this day will greet. I pray for their well-being, that they will have their needs met, that they will grow in love and awareness." He went on to say that of course he prays for his own people and himself. He said, "We dry farm. That is to say, we do not irrigate. We rely on the rain and the springs and that means we pray. And that is good. So every day I pray for rain--not expecting that it will necessarily come that day but that it will come as we need it to come and God will provide for us."
Six summers later, I find that I still think of that young man many mornings. In the verdant, cool morning here, I close my eyes and recall an oh-so-different world of brilliant, bold color, toasted scent, and rising warmth and I mindfully enter a quiet space, a shared space, a place where I can pray as that young man taught me to pray. The sun begins its course through the sky, and I try to be generous in my prayer for all people, for their well being, for their safety. I try to be grateful and confident that God will provide and meet their needs when they most need them met. I try to grow in love and awareness within myself and grow in the hope that others may do the same.
What to expect…
The morning begins by setting the scene, the great city of Jerusalem in the spring of the year at Passover, in times both troubled and hopeful. Who was there? We gather the witnesses, those whose lives will be changed forever by the events of that day. We will be given the name for the Witness that will be ours and join a zoom breakout with others having the same person. Using scripture, historical background, reflection questions, and our creative imagination we create the back story for our specific Witness. After our breakout, we come together to meet the other Witnesses.
Prayer, song and movement are woven throughout all of these gatherings, large and small.
After lunch break, we are guided in planning the liturgy for an interactive Stations of the Cross. Our retreat ends with the Stations in character, a powerful and moving experience. Once again, Kathleen will be joined by Betsey Beckman as co-presenter!
Lent Sharedli
The week before Lent I had an idea for some Lent sharing so I sent a survey to some of my wisdom friends asking them:
Some were simple but effective:
"I turn off the car radio during Lent. Silence is a welcome change; I can clear my mind. And if I have passengers, we actually converse," wrote Maureen."The daily readings in Lent are really meaningful--highly recommended" said Emily.
A family experience:
Again, Gail had some practical advice: "As a family of 4 we decided to have a donation box in the corner of the kitchen. We took turns putting something in the box every day--something that was usable/working/wearable. Our kids were 5 & 8. We filled the large donation box 4 times! What we learned: That we have too much stuff!!! Our kids, ages 5 & 8 learned to share and think more about those who have less."Some humor to end
My own sister, Terry, gave up candy like the rest of us but still took it whenever offered and stashed it in a shoebox under her bed. I called it cheating but, really, was just jealous I'd not thought of it first!And my cousin recalled meatless Fridays. His in-laws stayed up every Friday night 'til midnight, then drove to a local restaurant and had Coney Island hot dogs smothered in onions and chili. He still marvels that they could sleep at night!
Several of them focused on giving up some bad habits:
Elizabeth, for example, tried to give up impatience. "I didn't always succeed but it did lift my spirits."
Gail added a practical reminder to her efforts. "I gave up complaining for a recent Lent. I had a red rubber band that I wore on my wrist & every time I complained I had to move it to the other wrist." What did she learn? "that I complained A LOT." Turns out complaining begets more of the same and negativity had become a steady companion. Knowing that meant she could change that.
And, as for taking ON something:
Ann Marie's daughters learned in high school, "Don't give UP something for Lent; give OF yourself. Donate your services. Volunteer."Another prompt came from the parish priest and Richard followed through. "Every week I bought $20 worth of McDonald five-dollar gift cards and gave them out to whomever was begging on a street corner. I learned how hard it was to do that without judgement...but it softened my heart."
Tom wrote: "A couple years ago, I made a resolution to follow through on my positive impulses. I seemed to be encountering situations that subtly called me to respond and I'd later think, "I should have done that." I recall being in a store and seeing a mail carrier in line at the cash register with a donut and thinking I should pay for that because I never thanked mine.That was the root of my resolution. It's led to some interesting adventures like helping snow-stranded travelers, etc. No regrets."