News & Inspiration

I have spent the majority of my life living in New England, and so I am familiar with the visual delight that Autumn brings--vibrant colors in amazing arrays of combinations that never cease to amaze and delight me. This time of year, more than the others, directs me to contemplate trees. 

In my youth I started as a tree climber, often scurrying to the uppermost branches, safely nestling into a few sturdy limbs and being content to remain there for long periods of time. There was something wonderfully calming to be up there amongst the leaves, especially when the wind blew and feeling the sensation of being one with the swaying limbs. I always felt safe and in some way held. 

As I have progressed in years, my approach to trees has become far more relational. There is a beech tree that resides on the bank of the brook behind the house where I grew up in Westbrook that I befriended when I was 8. I was drawn to its soft smooth silvery bark, and hugging this tree became routine. This beech tree was my confidant, often bearing witness to stories I could not speak to others and the tears I needed to cry. I came to love this tree. So much so that, albeit 55 years have passed, I still trek into the woods to give my precious beech tree a hug whenever I can. 

Last week, while I was pet-sitting in Madison, a massive oak tree lived adjacent to the road, a couple of houses down. This tree exuded a presence that made me stop in amazement each time I passed by. Her massive trunk far exceeded the width of my outstretched arms; textured bark and burly knots conveyed her character and age; my neck strained as my eyes followed the limbs skyward. Aloud I’d say: "Good morning, tree!" then respectfully await a reply. It is a silent exchange, an inner sensing of peace. I am awed by her magnificence and feel reverence for her wisdom. I bless her and continue on my way. 

In the midst of this Autumn season (with sights and smells like no other), I encourage you to walk amongst trees, either in the woods or perhaps even around your neighborhood. Seek out a tree (or trees!) that speaks to you in its quiet way. Sometimes it begins with a gentle nudging that makes you pause and take notice. I invite you to also engage--it is a relationship worth cultivating. 

The following is a poem by Mary Oliver that conveys this relationship beautifully. I hope you enjoy it. 

When I Am Among The Trees 

by Mary Oliver

         When I am among the trees,

         especially the willows and the honey locust,

         equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,

         they give off such hints of gladness, I would

         almost say they save me, and daily.

         I am so distant from the hope of myself in

         which I have goodness and discernment,

         and never hurry through the world but walk

         slowly and bow often.

         Around me, the trees stir in their leaves

         and call out, "Stay awhile."

         The light flows from their branches.

         And they call again, "It's simple," they say.

         "And you too have come

         into the world to do this, to go easy,

         to be filled with light, and to shine."

Peace & Blessings, 

Linda Choser 

I’m 16. I'm rocking a Gravity defying Mohawk the color of a child’s interpretation of grass. My jeans are ripped. My shirt is a vintage mechanics shirt with the name of some unknown car repairman over my heart. I’m barefoot. I tentatively share a poem with an audience claiming to be my family in spirit. When I’m done nobody cheers, nobody claps, nobody nods a head. I don’t even think anybody smiled. It’s as silent as a long unvisited graveyard. Later I’m informed it wasn’t the poem that was the problem. It was my disgraceful disrespect for God displayed by my ripped jeans and bare feet. I had once thought this was supposed to be holy ground.

I’m 10. I have a smile that reaches halfway around my head. It's a big smile. I am still possessed by innocence that thinks anything is possible. I want to be an artist even though my interpretation of the color of grass is a bit off. I want to paint abstracts. Yes, I’m a ten year old who loves the stirrings of a good abstract. A well meaning but clearly non perceptive grown up tells me that if I can’t grasp the concept of realism I could never understand the theory of abstract. Innocence began to release its hold. I put away my pens and pencils and markers and paint. I guess I just figured that if I couldn’t create what had been defined as beauty, I couldn’t create the expression swelling and swirling within. I had once thought beauty was in the eye of the beholder and expression was in all of us.

I’m 32. My abs are clearly defined. I'm probably a bit too proud of them. My hair is beginning to thin, probably as a counterweight to the cobblestones residing over my intestines. Papers have been signed, a gavel has been dropped and my Marital union has been dissolved with clear and painful borders and even a DMZ, my son. She says she loves me but just needs me to be something other than who I am and what I am. She says she doesn’t understand how anyone could actually love who I am. I can’t really see it either, I’m not sure I ever did. I had once thought love was accepting the object of affection for all that they are and all they are not.

I’m 20. My hair is thick and long, my nails are painted. I wear women’s jeans size 6 and t-shirts size boys extra large with silly cartoon characters on them. I’m in Bible college, no clue why I’m there or why I stayed. My hands are grasped and pulled into uncomfortable positions twisted unnaturally and brought level with my eyes. It’s painful. My right shoulder feels like it’s on the verge of dislocation. The authority figure leans in so close I can smell what he had for breakfast on his breath. If you don’t remove this faggoty demonic paint from your fingers God will never speak to you or love you he says. He says this in front of my entire class. I invested heavily in nail polish remover that day. Not sure why. I stopped believing in God that day, at least for a time. Maybe I had an idea that those paint removing formulas would remove the confusion swirling around who I was. Maybe it was because I was desperate to hear a word of love from God. I had once thought God was always speaking and loved everyone.

I’m 38. My Mohawk is gone, my jeans are no longer ripped. My bare feet dig into the soil, glide on green grass, and dip into cool water whenever they get the chance. I am certain that Everywhere I step the ground is holy

I’m 38 My innocence has long departed but I’ve gleaned so much insight and understanding over the course of the departure. A smile has once again begun to take up residence on my face, and it’s threatening to take over more territory. I paint and create and I express the deeper inner beauty that at times I am convinced is a gift meant for only me to see.

I’m 38. My abs are covered by layers of soft, easily accumulated, ineffective protection. My hair is no longer thinning, it's mostly gone the way of a good night's sleep. You wake up in the morning and wonder where it went. I wear hats almost all the time and sometimes people don’t even know who I am when I’m not wearing one. I am seen, I am known and I am accepted for all that I am and all that I am not. loved for all that I am and all that I am not. I think now, having a partner who sees and knows, that I could never have been truly loved by another had I not begun to learn to love myself

I’m 38. I don’t wear women’s jeans size 6 anymore and I most definitely do not wear t-shirts size boys extra large. My nails are usually painted and the remover now only serves the function of making room for other colors. I hear from God when I stop to listen and when I do They tell me that They love me just for the simple fact that I exist and for who I am.

I’m 16

I’m 10

I’m 32

I’m 20

I’m 38

I’m fearfully and wonderfully me.

“We have no destination and nothing to accomplish” is how I introduce my Saturday mindfulness walks in Norwich’s Mohegan Park. After some welcoming words, a brief warm-up, and expressions of gratitude for the day, we walk — slowly, silently, and softly. 

In my teaching of mindfulness walking practice, I invite participants to bring their awareness to the breath and body, sights and sounds, movements and rhythms, smells and breezes, muscles and bones, absorbing information and guidance from everything around them and within them at every moment. I seek to do the same, though wandering thoughts and passing fancies intrude as they do for everybody. 

In a recent walk around the park’s Spaulding Pond with my small group, we passed under the trellises of wisteria, felt lifted by the oh-la-ree of red-winged blackbirds sitting on the cattails, pondered the profusion of skunk cabbages in the swampy areas, blinked at the no-see-um’s flitting into our eyes, and concluded by lifting our eyes to the sunlight filtering through the leaves and blossoms of the dogwood trees.  

We brought our awareness to the human element of the park as well, catching snippets of conversation of passing couples and families, noticing (without judgment!) the left-behind water bottles and beer cans, and offering silent good wishes to the fishing folks sitting on buckets and contemplatively smoking cigarettes.  

I advise participants to take it all in, neither grasping nor pushing away but simply noticing. In my practice, when I start to fixate on a thing or a thought, I whisper to myself “this, too” as an expression of acceptance and gratitude no matter how beautiful or ugly, sweet or pungent, or quiet or noisy the thing or thought — and then returning to awareness and the breath. 

On this walk, I tried to focus my attention on my body, feeling the movement of my breath, the press of my feet on the path, the tightening of my leg muscles, the gurgling of my stomach, the beating of my heart, and my growing thirst. 

A mindfulness walk, or any mindfulness practice, can do wonders to bring us back to a more spacious, contemplative place, away from all the planning, problem-solving, self-judging, and worrying in which we are usually engaged. Evidence suggests that mindfulness practice offers many benefits to the mind and body: Improving attention, decreasing job burnout, improving sleep, and controlling diabetes as well as reducing anxiety, pain, depression, and high blood pressure. 

I find the spiritual aspects of a mindfulness walk beneficial as well, especially in those brief moments when the veil between the world and me drops away, and I experience a sense of unity, beauty, and, at times, euphoria.  

I invite you in the coming weeks, as we anticipate the start of summer, to take a slow walk in silence, stepping softly upon the earth and giving your soul the gentle care it needs. 

And then  

once more the quiet mystery  

is present to me, the throng’s clamor 

recedes…. 

From “Primary Wonder” by Denise Levertov 

The wonderful thing about spiritual directors is that spiritual directors are a wonderful blessing! As a spiritual director I need a spiritual director, one who is practiced and skilled at the art. Phil is my spiritual director, we have known each other a long time and Phil gets me.  Phil is good at asking insightful questions, posed in a timely manner that help me to look more deeply at myself and my spiritual practice.  Phil keeps me grounded in the here and now when I am prone to find myself off somewhere else.

My particular niche in spiritual direction is eco or terra-spiritual direction. As a recent graduate of the Seminary of the Wild certificate program, I am excited to introduce those whom I companion to the treasures of the more than human world. The rich opportunities present within nature call us to engage our experience of the divine within its bounties, as well as develop spiritual practices that enhance our sense of the holy as we walk that sacred ground. Guided nature meditation, sit spot practice, and breathing “in” at the base of a tree as it breathes “out,” afford us embodied and sensory rich opportunities to be more fully present to the more than human kin whom St. Francis called brother and sister, and with whom we share a specific local in a particular bioregion.

My other world is my full-time vocational work as a chaplain in long term care. This is richly rewarding as it affords me the privilege of listening to aging adults share their life experiences. Together we can affirm and celebrate them for the rich experiences they represent. I feel that in being a story catcher to their sharing I gain insight into the elder wisdom they bring in conversation that speaks of ways in which my own life can be more generative.

Phil is adept at helping me to bring my world and practice of spiritual companioning and chaplaincy into conversation. In what ways does my practice in each area inform the other? Are there points of convergence or distinct difference? Where especially may nature encounter be brought in contact with my residents’ spiritual lives for their pleasure and enrichment?

An especially fruitful session with Phil led to a new awareness and cross-pollinating of practices that indeed crossed the boundaries of my two worlds. When doing a woodland wander, my habit is to begin the walk by introducing myself to my more than human neighbors among whom I will spend time. I then ask (and listen) for their permission to do so. Before setting off, I discern a point between two trees or a fence post as a threshold that constitutes the entry point for my wander.

Centering myself, I imagine crossing this point which has been called the “threshold of connection” with a different state of consciousness.  Until I have returned beyond this point my senses are extended and acutely receptive, and I am conscious of being in an I/Thou mode of relating. My intent is to listen to, dialogue with and actively imagine that there is reciprocity in my way of being with and among these kin.

Of course, Phil is “curious” to know when exploring this practice if this can be transferred to my way of being a chaplain in my facility. So glad he asked!  It seems that when one reframes the hallways of a nursing home, they can become a kind of “woodland path.”  Each doorway can become a new “threshold” to cross. Before doing so, I take a deep breath, engage my heart chakra, and actively imagine leaving behind the conversation and concerns of my previous interaction. Now I am more fully present and attuned to my current resident and what will happen in this sacred encounter. I greatly value and appreciate this “new thing” the Spirit is able to create in my work with Phil as he holds sacred space for our monthly sessions. The wonderful thing about spiritual directors is that spiritual directors are a wonderful blessing!

One can imagine that our lives are full of “thresholds” which we may more mindfully cross and be present in a deeper way, bringing our enhanced “sense-tivity,” empathy, and appreciative perspective to our daily experiences. Whether in a natural environment or not, it is the intention and quality of our presence that can shift us into that contemplative and mindful way of being “with” in all our encounters. That next threshold for each of us is likely very close at hand.

Rev. Mark Chaffin is a certified Spiritual Director and the Interfaith Chaplain at Baptist Health, Nursing and Rehabilitation Center in Scotia, NY.

Artist’s Purpose: To create a work of art celebrating The Spiritual Life Center’s 40th Anniversary.

Artist’s Intentions: To prayerfully create an artwork that elicits a universally interpretable metaphor for Spiritual Direction and Companioning. 

Artist’s Statement:

Not one, but two artworks emerged. 

In my beginning prayers about the artwork to be made, BOTH a Spiral and a Labyrinth popped into my mind’s eye.  My logical brain kept dismissing the idea of two pieces.  “Keep it simple,” I kept saying to myself.

As I continued to pray, both images - the spiral and the labyrinth remained equally strong over time.  Spirit had led me to BOTH/AND.  I chuckled to myself, because, eh, well, isn’t both/and always the answer in Spiritual Direction? 

The Spiral and the Labyrinth have become Companion Pieces to each other -  and now, to our beloved Spiritual Life Center.  

Labyrinth represents The Spiritual Life Center’s journey and our own as Spiritual Companions. As Spiritual Directors, we learn skills, ethics, tools and ways of being that help us walk the Spiritual Path with others.  It is within these guidelines we learn to companion others on their Spiritual Journey.

I played with a few different techniques in Labyrinth’s gestational phases. I painted the labyrinth in water first.  I began with a single dot of water in the center of the piece and painted out from the middle.  I worked with the water and ink in tandem - painting the sumi-e ink along the two edges of the waterline.  This created an unpredictable effect in between the two edges of the line.  The way the ink flows along with the water and the natural fibers of the paper alludes to the unseen and unpredictable nature of Spirit. 

Another fun fact:  Labyrinth is also larger than its frame, humbly symbolizing that we can’t possibly know everything. 

The Spiral represents the past, present and future of the Spiritual Life Center.  The Spiral begins with a single golden dot.  A line starts radiating out from the center of the spiral.  The line morphs from gold to black and then spells the names of The Spiritual Life Center’s Spiritual Directors who have passed away.  Next, the past runs into the present.  All Spiritual Directors in attendance at the Annual Celebration 2022 signed their rainbow of names connecting us to … the unfolding future Spiritual Directors of The Spiritual Life Center.

Thank you for this honor to behold our Spiritual Life Center Community.

Special Thanks to Charles McAughtry, Wayne Martin, Shihan David LoPriore, L.Ac.

All the Little Children …Again

Nearly ten years ago

  I shared my response

    To the children and adults 

       Taken from us at Sandy Hook.

My words still ring true

  For the children and adults

    Taken from us at Uvalde, Texas.

Brother Jesus, I offer you my sadness,

  My inability to speak

    Words of comfort,

      My inadequacy to find meaning.

Just as you came into this world

  As a baby

    To be God’s presence

      Among us,

So, too, you created each little child,

  To be your presence for us.

Their years, so short,

  Were enough

    To teach us how to live,

      To love, to laugh, and to learn.

They modeled excitement,

  Curiosity, joy, and faith.

Brother Jesus, I believe that

  On that Friday mourning, 

    You embraced them,

      And blessed them,

        And placed your hands on them;

For the Kingdom of God

  Belongs to all the little children

      And all who loved them.

And nearly ten years later

  There is still talk

    About gun control, background checks,

        Semi-automatics, magazine clips,

           Mental health, security.

Yet a message is missing;

  When will we believe

      And share,

  That God loves 

     Each and every one of us;

  That we are made to his image;

  That God has filled our hearts

     With his love;

  That our children

    Look to us—

       Parents,

            Teachers,

             Clergy,

                              Civic leaders,

         To show them

            How to love?

When will we stand up to say

  That a child’s life—

     A gang member’s life--

        A spouse’s life--

    Is worth more 

       Than the $.65 cost

           Of an AR-15 bullet?        

When will we model

  Respect and tolerance

     For people of a different

        Race,

                  Religion,

                           Nationality,

                              Language?

When will we teach

   That there is more to life

      Than Power,

         Prestige,

                          Possessions?

Who is there

  To offer a simple hug

    So necessary 

       For the human heart? 

When will we teach

  That a life filled

     With caring and sharing,

         Love and compassion,

            Is the true measure

               Of one’s character?

We ask for the Lord’s blessings

  For the children and adults 

    In Uvalde, Texas

   And for all who have died

        By gun violence all over this land;

  And for the courage

    To proclaim

       That each one of us

          Is treasured 

            In God’s eyes;

       That we are precious

         Because we have life 

           To cherish and to share in love.

                               --Joe Bartok

A Short Reflection By Kate Fennell

There is so much that is wrong with the world right now.

But if we look, we can find beauty and happiness everywhere.

A loving spouse.  A beloved, overweight cat snuggling against you at night.  A little boy finding stones of different shapes that he happily presents to his mother.  Sunlight dappling through trees on a walk in the woods.  A hidden lake at the end of that walk.  A three-legged dog who is the happiest creature imaginable.

Keep looking.  God is there, everywhere.

As a young person being discipled as a follower of Jesus I was introduced to the idea that all God’s children are ministers, lay and clergy alike. It was a new thought and one that expanded my sense of self and role as a believer. 

I had a new identity “in Christ” that came with a calling or vocation readymade. As Jesus’ person I was gifted and equipped to minister in a way that was uniquely my own. From the beginning the shape of my calling was to “befriend others in Jesus’ name.” The initial steps were somewhat uncomfortable but it was an identity I grew into.

With the passing of time, educational opportunity and growth in experience, my sense of vocation deepened and grew. The shape of my calling led to ordained ministry in the field of health care chaplaincy. In this work, first in hospice and then long-term care my sense of self and role again shifted and expanded. I was a healer, an instrument of God’s outpouring love and grace to bring “shalom” or wholeness to every person.

Just as I came to appreciate that we are all called to be ministers, so I have come to believe we are all healing agents in the kin-dom of God. Whatever the nature or location of our service to the Holy One we can see ourselves in this light.

In the course of my training as a spiritual director I had a profound and transformative experience that had the hallmarks of a mystical encounter with the ground of being.  I again felt an expanding sense of self and a new visionary purpose to fulfill as a contemplative, perhaps even as a mystic.  It should not be surprising, given the path of my journey that I have come to see that we are all meant to be mystics, ordinary, everyday mystics perhaps.

What has informed my view of ordinary mysticism for the common person has been my experience engaging as a deep listener to the stories of others. My preferred reframing of the term chaplain is “story catcher.”  To attend to and witness the stories of others, stories they are (sometimes) dying to tell is a deeply spiritual privilege. It also contains an element of the mystical as I will share.

Through the training of chaplain and Rabbi Sam Seicol I came to appreciate that what aids us in helping patients and anyone suffering dis-ease is to create a “spiritual moment” with them. A spiritual moment occurs when we “create a connection of heart, mind and soul with another.” This can be while playing on the floor with a toddler, or when gazing eye-to-eye and holding hands with an elder who has Alzheimer’s, or a thousand variations on this theme that afford deep connection person-to-person.

When Jesus says in John’s gospel, “I and the Father are one,” when he says “Abide in me and I in you,” I understand him to be describing a unitive, heart-to-heart spiritual moment or experience.  I also sense the mystical nature of this encounter. Any of us may share such moments of deep connection with the Holy, with our loved ones and neighbors, and with the more-than-human world to name just a few.

Would we were all blessed with the experiences of Mary Magdalene, Teresa of Avila, Howard Thurman, Meister Eckhart or Black Elk. But each of us are nevertheless called to and blessed to be ministers, healers and everyday mystics offering fellowship, healing and connection with those to whom Spirit enjoins us.  We may cultivate everyday experiences where the practice of deep connection of heart, mind, and soul can become a daily spiritual practice of the ordinary mystic.

I kissed a rose this early morn…it was too beautiful to resist.

She reached out to me as I deep in thought nearly passed her by.

The first of her sisters to bloom

Her face graced me…a gift for this day.

The softness of her petals so like a baby’s skin,

Caressed my face as I breathed in her fragrant scent.

So I kissed her, not once, not twice but three times or more.​​​​​​​

And continued on my walk having had a sweet visit with

Wisdom/God the fashioner of all.

Ellie

31. August 31, 2009