Longing

I've lived in some awesomely beautiful places, but the one which captured my soul is La Honda.

I love the chaparral. The combination of the live oaks and golden grass is, to my eyes, enchanting. I have lived in a redwood forest, on a hill overlooking San Francisco, on a creek (literally!) under bay trees, and now in a desert oasis with an ocean view. But to have had the privilege of living in the chaparral, surrounded by quail and mourning doves, red-tailed hawks and bobcats (and even the unloved banana slugs and deer), ah, that was as close to what I hope heaven looks and feels like!

I am editing a textbook on financial therapy while listening to Alisdair Fraser, a Scottish fiddler transplanted to the Bay Area, and the sweet memory of my beautiful La Honda is piercing my heart.

We lived there for 11 years and moved because, as has always been the case, God drew us toward something more wonderful. Not more wonderful in its ambience, but certainly in spiritual richness.

Poor beautiful La Honda! There were, I think five or six christians in the community of about 850, and of course we all had different doctrinal beliefs. We became good friends with a couple who were basically Baptist, and met with them weekly just to hang out and encourage them in the faith. We worked together in running the community food distribution service to the poor of the area. But for much of the time we lived in La Honda we weren't part of a church community, since the nearest one was half an hour away on winding country roads, and we couldn't quite figure out how to do community with them, since we didn't live in their town.

In several of the other places we have lived we didn't really know our neighbors (a curse of many urban and suburban areas). It wasn't the case in La Honda, however. We knew everyone on our street (two blocks long), and our lives intertwined in various ways with all of them. It was a real community. When you went for a walk, which a lot of people did, anyone you passed would greet you, whether they knew you or not. There was a restaurant which functioned as the community gathering place. It was one of two businesses in the community, the other being a grocery store. Everyone had to go to the post office to get their mail, since there was no mail delivery available. Ah, the sweetness of a rural life!

On my way to my studio at the bottom of our property.

I served for 6 years on the guild board, which was the governing body of the community. We dealt with the cranks and the deadbeats and the down-and-outers and the ones who wanted to improve things. Over the time we lived there, the community demographics changed. By the time we left there were far fewer deadbeats and many more professionals, which made for less contention but also made the ambience less rich.

I am SO grateful to God that He brought us to Todos Santos, to the Catholic Church, to a culture where family is central and people support one another. The sense of community is fundamental here (among the local Mexicans, anyway; I can't speak for the gringos because I don't know many of them). There are a lot of walkers here, too, mostly due to lack of the financial means to own a car. But I am most grateful for the heights, the depths, the riches of the Catholic Church which was His greatest gift to me in having to leave behind my beautiful La Honda, which will pass away, but His church will never pass away; we are married forever to our redeemer and the lover of our souls, the one who created all the beautiful things of the world and delights in them all.

Confirmation of our marriage vows on entering the Catholic Church.

Reflections on an Unexciting Life: stability of mind

This is the second in a series of posts on the book shown above. This book is full of passages that have deepened my awareness of the landscape through which the path of fulfillment lies - the path that leads to God's presence. Today I want to share a passage that speaks directly to our culture. The emphases are mine:

"Benedict did not desire his monks to be anything else but 'unworldly'…He wanted them to breathe the atmosphere of the Kingdom of God rather than be the playthings of human opinion and desire. To make progress along this way, stability was of the utmost importance. This was…a solidity or steadiness of mind. It was the opposite of mobility of mind. Separation from the world is thus seen to be more a matter of working toward an evenness of life in which prayer becomes possible. It is in the avoidance of meaningless mental stimulation rather than a question of bodily location…To advance in prayer, inner quiet is needed."

Now, I am well aware that God does not require us to have a quiet spirit before He'll hear our prayers. If that were true we'd all be sunk! But this passage, for me, reminds me of how valuable quietude is. By quietude I am not referring to outward quiet, but to that stability of the soul that doesn't seek continual distractions, that is content when not engaged in activity to fill the spaces in one's life.

When I was newly married and we had recently moved to the forest to homestead, we had chickens. The Pirate could sit for long periods of time just watching them, while I would be in the house, looking for ways to be distracted from my discomfort at being a city girl in a country environment and from my own sense of inadequacy. I wished then that I had the inner peace that he had, to be able to sit quietly without feeling as though I were wasting time or that my lack of activity showed dullness of mind or that our life was too uninteresting.

Thankfully, at least in that characteristic I have grown more like my husband over the years, and I am perfectly happy now to just sit and look at chickens, to create the quiet inner environment which invites God to speak directly to my spirit. That's the part from the passage about "advancing in prayer" that my own experience confirms. Yes, God stoops close to hear us when we're surrounded by noise; He's intent on being in conversation with us. As the Catechism tells us, He is the initiator of prayer, we only respond to His tugs at our heart. But, Oh, He yearns for us to yearn for Him! How patiently He waits for us to put aside all our distractions so He can hold us tenderly!

Here is a photo of the view from our last home in Alta California, in an enchanting place called La Honda. We thought that we would live out our lives there. The deep peace that seemed to rise out of the ground; the quiet - so quiet that quail lived all around us (they like the deep country). I spent many hours just sitting, basking in the quiet. And it wasn't because we had an amazing view - we've had amazing views almost everyplace we've lived.

This was the place where I learned to be quiet enough on the inside that I could actually soak in the view. Despite going through the most painful trial of my life there; despite being without the anchor of a faith community; despite having a very challenging professional practice to run. Inner quiet isn't dependent on outer stability, or everything going smoothly. We give our attention to whatever we value, and inner quiet is the result of valuing the "air of heaven"…I want to breathe that calm, pure air that sustains me regardless of outward circumstances. Now THAT is a treasure worth seeking!