I’ve been traveling with family this week, and this morning we woke up to rain. As I paused to listen to the gentle, steady drizzling, and to breathe in and feel the day begin, the listening became its own kind of morning prayer. Do you ever hear or feel a prayer as you begin a day? What words do you say, to yourself, to the day? Or do you enter into quiet, into silence, without words? It makes a difference how we begin, whether or not we make a space, a way, some time to rest our minds from constant grappling and explaining. Whether or not we open the edges of the stories we tell about the way things are within us and around us, to let more in.

One of my teachers says that spiritual growth, or becoming wise, is a process of discovering at your core a story that can hold all the other stories. A foundation that makes room for everything that comes your way, for everything that is. In that place, that story, vulnerability and courage are the same thing. Courage is not simply the energy or power to defend our expectations or habits or “knowledge.” Courage is the ability to keep the doors of our minds and hearts open, to change direction, to leave things behind and keep moving, even – or especially – if we are mourning as we go. “What would it be like to wake into our bodies, our relationships and our work as if seeing them for the first time?”, the teacher asks. Yesterday there was sorrow and joy; today there is sorrow and joy – but today we are not the same as we were yesterday. Nothing is the same.

This is a daily practice – to find ways and time to open ourselves and our stories to the way things truly are. To be willing to be lived by pain and sorrow and fear in all the ways we are willing to be lived by happiness and love and joy. To move as life moves, in us and around us. For the days of this week I wish for you, and for me, the gift of of opening to the day, beginning with breath, and with thanks. Sending love to you all — Jill

September arrives and soon we’ll begin a new Fellowship year. First, however, we’ll take a small break in the usual routine of Sunday services – a Sunday off, a chance to intentionally pause, a chance perhaps to consider and mull: what does this routine mean to me? What is it for? Whom is it for? The Fellowship is many things and includes many things, yet at its heart it is a worshiping community – which means at the very least that it is a gathering of people who are committed to a shared endeavor, a shared religious life. If you’re simply in the habit of attending, I invite you to take this time to consider what it means to you to be part of this worshiping community.

Our theme for the coming year will be “Building A New Way.” Whether we had decided to be aware of that need or not, the call to build new ways of being together, of being in the world, of sharing and caring, of searching for meaning, of building deep connections, of inspiring action – the call to build new ways is clarion. The world has changed, is changing, is in need of change – and we are part of the world.

Some of the areas we’ll continue to work on are living in a climate crisis, learning to understand and dismantle systems of oppression – racism in particular, how to be welcoming and inclusive, generational differences and bridges, and what religious and spiritual practices can help us in this work. Some of the new areas we’ll explore include leadership for now and the future, and especially leadership for the life and work of the Fellowship.

Enjoy this small break, use it well, and come again on September 10 ready to joyfully begin again, sharing the work and the beauty of being the UU Fellowship of Corvallis.