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Urban Quest Field Note #19: Dialing in to the signal field

 

It’s a new practice, a new way of being, to walk out into the front yard with the restocked bird feeder in hand and to speak a morning greeting to those creatures in earshot of me.

“Hello,” cheerfully pitched, I offer my greeting to my aviary friends.  It feels like a bow.  I do it because, like a prayer, it turns me on to the signal field within me and around me.  It reminds me that I am entering their habitat.  It reminds me of who’s the guest.

Urban Quest Practice:  Know where you are. Know who’s with you.  BE where you are.                                                                      

 

“Wild Space” Wednesdays: Sojourner’s outdoor sanctum

Whilst yet a child, [Sojourner] listened to a story of a wounded soldier, left alone in the trail of a flying army, helpless and starving, who hardened the very ground about him with kneeling in his supplications to God for relief, until it arrived.  From this narrative, she was deeply impressed with the idea, that if she also were to present her petitions under the open canopy of heaven, speaking very loud, she should the more readily be heard; consequently, she sought a fitting spot for this, her rural sanctuary.  The place she selected, in which to offer up her daily orisons, was a small island in a small stream, covered with large willow shrubbery, beneath which the sheep had made their pleasant winding paths; and sheltering themselves from the scorching rays of noon-tide sun, luxuriated in the cool shadows of the graceful willows, as they listened to the tiny falls of the silver waters.  It was a lonely spot, and chosen by her for its beauty, its retirement, and because she thought that there, in the noise of those waters, she could speak louder to God, without being overheard by any who might pass that way. When she had made choice of her sanctum, at a point of the island where the stream met, after having been separated, she improved by pulling away the branches of the shrubs from the centre, and weaving them together for a wall on the outside, forming a circular arched alcove, made entirely of graceful willow.  To this place she resorted daily, and in pressing time much more frequently.

From The Narrative of Sojourner Truth, 1850, by O. Gilbert

Excerpt in Sacred Journeys, J. Richardson, 1995