May Thoughts

              May Thoughts:

Even our sister Mother Earth speaks of the Heavenly Mother often and keeps her ever before us for those with eyes to see... a shadow of stone, a shape in the clouds, an angle in the crook of a tree, a turning of the head or the rising and falling of the light, these are the sermons of the earth and they always reveal her. In these gentle whisperings she is always near... always watching over us... always leading us to her Son... always calling us home... always calling us into the embrace of the sacred totality of her yes to God.

Beginning, always beginning.

Beginning; Always Beginning.

O God of beginnings 

help me to begin.

To shrug off the burdens of before.

To leave aside the anxieties of after.

To release the chains of regret.

To simply begin.

Here.

Now.

In this moment.

With you.

O God of beginnings 

help me to begin.

To gift you my brokenness.

To yield to you even my failures 

of a moment ago.

To know that our life is built with you

moment by moment,

step by often faltering step,

as you draw us daily deeper into

the fires of love and there transform us.

O God of beginnings 

help me to begin.

To begin to love.

To begin to live.

To hear your unbinding call.

To walk out into the light

of the true life you offer

beyond the tomb of time.

O God of beginnings 

help me to begin.

To shrug off the burdens of before.

To leave aside the anxieties of after.

To release the chains of regret.

To simply begin.

Here.

Now.

In this moment,

and in every moment after.

Until all our little moments fall away

and we are called into the ending

that is really the eternal 

beginning.

Holy Wonder

Holy Wonder

If you would 

be holy;

begin 

with wonder.

Go to 

the edge

places,

where sky 

and sea 

meet,

kiss,

and yield 

to 

each other 

their

horizon's touch

in shades 

of blue

and green

and grey;

gifting you 

with grace 

to be lost in

awe;

loose at last 

from

all your

wandering 

thoughts.

If you would 

be holy;

begin 

with wonder.

Go to 

the wild 

places;

the untamed 

lands, 

where eden's 

song

echoes still 

between the rocks, 

behind the trees, 

beneath the waves,

in the sighing 

of 

the breeze;

there, hear again 

the song of 

longing 

in your own 

heart,

your part 

in 

creation's chorus,

as loud as 

thunder,

as soft as snow 

falling 

on snow.

If you would 

be holy;

begin 

with wonder.

Go to 

the slow 

places 

where 

darkness 

becomes 

light 

as day 

emerges 

from

dawn, 

and dusk 

from 

day. 

Sit with 

the 

gentle 

shifting 

of the 

light, 

see the 

stability 

of its 

circadian 

dance. 

Watch 

moonrises 

and 

sunsets,

set your 

soul 

aflame again 

with 

star fire,

entering deeply 

into the

rainbowed 

covenant

of dawn.

If you would 

be holy;

begin 

with wonder.

Go to 

the ancient 

places,

and there, 

rest 

in the 

inner knowing

of your 

youth;

however 

old 

you call 

yourself,

tree 

and stone 

and sky

long lived 

before you

and

will live long 

after 

you leave.

If you would 

be holy;

begin 

with wonder.

Go to 

the inner 

places

of your own

being;

bow down

before the 

flame of 

presence

dwelling 

divinely

in your 

soul.

Come 

to the 

knowing

of 

your true name

within 

the Name;

with each 

breath

be breathed 

into the 

fullness 

of 

being

in awe, 

in delight,

in the 

graced 

gratitude

of love.

If you would 

be holy,

always 

begin 

with 

wonder.

Rosary

 Saturday thoughts for May:

Rosary

Each

day 

dawns;

a 

bead 

strung 

upon

the cord 

of 

life.

Heart holding 

safe 

within

it

a gift of

joy 

or 

sorrow,

glory 

or 

illumination,

but always,

love;

as my

little mystery

loses

self in her

greater

mystery

of 

love's 

libation

poured out

purely

in

prayer.

Her yes

inviting 

always 

a

deeper

circling 

of 

the

chaplet 

of our 

days

until life 

and 

Divine Life

become 

one 

again;

then

mothered 

into

meaning,

wombed

into

wonder,

birthed

into

being

finally,

in faith's

long

fruition,

from our

thorny

heart

a rose

blooms.

(Artist unknown)

The Path of Pebbles

The Path of  Pebbles

At dawn

each day 

begin

again

by

lifting 

the pebble 

of the 

moment.

Hold it 

with the

full awareness 

of your

senses.

Warm it 

with 

your breath,

as you smooth 

its surface

with 

compassion's

touch.

Then,

as dusk 

descends,

place it 

gently

on the 

cairn of 

experience.

Let it 

settle

there

until,

silently,

the 

deep 

rich 

moss

of Wisdom

grows,

and

Divine Love

enters,

building anew

the 

temple

of your 

being.

The May Magnificat

 The Month of May is dedicated to Our Lady and brings with it a plenitude of heavenly riches indeed! 

Our Mother is the one who in her own person brings in the One who is the Light of the World and, with Joseph as his earthly guardian, guides Him to readiness for His Mission. 

In and through Mary we receive every gift: for while the Church, and the Sacraments come to us from Christ, Christ comes to us through Mary. 

Christ, the Eternal Word is spoken into our world by Mary's word: it is through her "fiat!", her "Yes!" that we have communion with Christ. 

Salve Regina Angelorum!

Today traditionally people greeted the May sunrise and gave thanks for the first fruits and flowers of Summer by dressing the Holy Wells and the wayside shrines to Mary. In the home the May Altar was erected and fresh flowers placed there throughout the month. Consecration of homes, families and individuals to Mary’s protection took place and May processions and crownings of Our Lady’s Icons and statues were celebrated...

So however you celebrate these days may our holy Mother be with you and yours!

The poem May Magnificat by the mystic and poet Gerald Manly Hopkins puts it so beautifully;

The May Magnificat

 

MAY is Mary’s month, and I 

Muse at that and wonder why: 

    Her feasts follow reason, 

    Dated due to season— 

 

Candlemas, Lady Day;         

But the Lady Month, May, 

    Why fasten that upon her, 

    With a feasting in her honour? 

 

Is it only its being brighter 

Than the most are must delight her?         

    Is it opportunest 

    And flowers finds soonest? 

 

Ask of her, the mighty mother: 

Her reply puts this other 

    Question: What is Spring?—         

    Growth in every thing— 

 

Flesh and fleece, fur and feather, 

Grass and greenworld all together; 

    Star-eyed strawberry-breasted 

    Throstle above her nested         

 

Cluster of bugle blue eggs thin 

Forms and warms the life within; 

    And bird and blossom swell 

    In sod or sheath or shell. 

 

All things rising, all things sizing         

Mary sees, sympathising 

    With that world of good, 

    Nature’s motherhood. 

 

Their magnifying of each its kind 

With delight calls to mind         

    How she did in her stored 

    Magnify the Lord. 

 

Well but there was more than this: 

Spring’s universal bliss 

    Much, had much to say         

    To offering Mary May. 

 

When drop-of-blood-and-foam-dapple 

Bloom lights the orchard-apple 

    And thicket and thorp are merry 

    With silver-surfèd cherry         

 

And azuring-over greybell makes 

Wood banks and brakes wash wet like lakes 

    And magic cuckoocall 

    Caps, clears, and clinches all— 

 

This ecstasy all through mothering earth        

Tells Mary her mirth till Christ’s birth 

    To remember and exultation 

    In God who was her salvation.

Gerald Manley Hopkins sj

Queen of the May

 For the First of May, Our Lady’s Month and 

Lá fheile Bealtaine

Queen of the May

O Lady of the White May Crown,

who brings the greening glory,

the sun sparkle upon the waters,

and the great sap surge of ancient trees,

enfold us in your blue mantle sewn of sky,

of Swift and Swallow jewelled,

embroidered with the Blackbird song 

of bright beckoning, 

that we might sing the song of Summer with you.

O Lady of the purple dawn and evening,

whose brow is crowned with starlight

and rainbows of sudden storms arising,

shine upon us now your thrice reflected light,

lowly, and lunar, and loved by the lost,

who find in you their path, their peace, their way home again.

O Lady of the Summer Lands,

whose passing step

now warms and wakes the seed,

the bloom, the berry upon the bough,

and brings to beast and bird

the burgeoning days of nest and den,

and sweet deep secret places

of nascent newness playing,

where eternity touches time

in the ancient song of making,

for of you life itself chose its bearing place.

Bless us too with birth, with life, with long sunlit days of joy, 

that in their serried passing draw us forward 'neath 

the Sun you bore within and then, 

onward into His wondrous light,

that past and childed summers shine with still within our memories, soul sprung from innocence that only you have kept,

then keep for us as greeting kiss bestowed 

upon our final homing into holiday.