An Italian Blessing

Bordered by seas

crisscrossed by mountains

watered by rivers, lakes, and streams

drenched by sun

May the land sing songs of blessing to you.

Senses spellbound

heightened forever by genuis . . .

Dante

daVinci, Michelangelo

Puccini, Toscanini, Enrico and Luciano

May the artists sing songs of beauty to you.

Proud offspring of continuous civilization

deeply tied to tradition

passionately attuned to family, faith, food and wine

openly warm and affectionate,

decidely spirited and quick to forgive

intuitively friendly, kind, tenacious, poetic and wise

May the people sing songs of love to you.

The Magical Mystery Tour

Spirituality is the sacred center out of which all life comes,

including Mondays and Tuesdays,

rainy Saturday afternoons in all

their mundane and glorious detail . . .

The spiritual journey is

the soul's life commingling with ordinary life.

--Christina Baldwin, Life's Companion [1990]

My heart is open.
To life, to love, and to my greater good.
Nothing can come to me if my heart is closed.
Opening my heart doesn't mean laying myself out as a doormat.
All my faculties are still engaged.
I am not suspending my judgment and discrimination - I'm removing from my inner world that which blocks me from being able to receive and experience the simple pleasures of any given day.
Life is happening all around me; the world is full of magic if I can recognize it and take it in.
I can own everything my eyes can see, but if I lack the ability to be touched and moved by the beauty that surrounds me, I am still poor.
I can own more or less of anything.
But if I have the facility to take in the wonder that surrounds me, I am rich.

I experience this magical mystery tour called life.

More Weeds

It does make a difference what you call things.

--Kate Douglas Wiggin

Most of us think of dandelions as weeds.

We buy special tools and poisons when they crop up and complain about them as surely as we welcome the spring that brings them.

Yet is there anything more lovely than a sea of yellow dandelions by the side of the road in June?

Or as remarkable in transformation as the filaments of the mature dandelion blowing on the wind?

Sometimes we let someone else define for us what are weeds and what are flowers.

We don't have to.

Much of the beauty of the world is that we ourselves decide what is beautiful according to our own feelings.

How lucky we are that, when we choose to, we can open our eyes and see!

Can I see the beauty in those around me right now?

Today's Gift by Anonymous

More Weeds

It does make a difference what you call things.

--Kate Douglas Wiggin

Most of us think of dandelions as weeds.

We buy special tools and poisons when they crop up and complain about them as surely as we welcome the spring that brings them.

Yet is there anything more lovely than a sea of yellow dandelions by the side of the road in June?

Or as remarkable in transformation as the filaments of the mature dandelion blowing on the wind?

Sometimes we let someone else define for us what are weeds and what are flowers.

We don't have to.

Much of the beauty of the world is that we ourselves decide what is beautiful according to our own feelings.

How lucky we are that, when we choose to, we can open our eyes and see!

Can I see the beauty in those around me right now?

Today's Gift by Anonymous

On The Journey Towards Acceptance

From The Henri Nouwen Society

On the Journey Towards Acceptance

written by PHIL NAZAR

"Preach the Gospel at all times,
sometimes even with words."
- Francis of Assisi

I bike a lot in downtown Toronto. Biking is, by nature, a solitary activity, though in the midst of much activity. For the most part biking is also wordless. This, I'm sure, is part of the attraction for me. Aside from the occasional epithet tossed at wayward car and truck drivers, I say nothing on my two-wheeled sojourns. I watch, listen and prepare for or ruminate on the events of the day.
It was in this state of mind that I rode from work to Word on the Street, Toronto's annual festival celebrating the written word. I was pretty weary after my workday and was looking forward to being in the midst of the celebration but not having to engage anyone. But as I locked my bike to a fence, I heard heart-wrenching sobbing. It was a young boy who had lost his mother. I was at a loss as to what to do, but we began to walk slowly, scanning the crowded street.
Very soon he saw his mother. They hugged, the mother's look changing from tearful terror to tearful relief. I wanted to say something to her, but her world had collapsed into this hug. I knew that any words I could say were unnecessary, so I walked away. Part of me was a little desirous of some of her time and emotion. Part of me was jealous of this all-encompassing embrace. And part of me knew that, in these few minutes of each of our lives, there was nothing but humanity in its awful vulnerability - and its awesome beauty.

PHIL NAZAR - is a former Jesuit and now married has lived in a number of intentional communities, including L'Arche. He is presently a Community Development Worker and Pastoral Minister at the Toronto Christian Resource Centre, located in Regent Park, a large public housing complex in Toronto. He is also the Chair of the Board of the Daily Bread Food Bank.