“The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood…” ~ Dylan Thomas.

Some Friday mornings my messages have been written in my head in advance, sentences constructed, thoughts pouring out of me onto the page. Other weeks I struggle, reaching for stories and memories to weave together into a cohesive form.  Throughout the week I send myself messages on the phone (to Me) as reminders, prompts, topics.  Last night I discussed this with one of my sons, and just for fun, he challenged ChatGPT to come up with a message for me.  He entered my prompts, gave it a link to my WordPress blog https://myfmm.blog/ and the result was laughable, nothing like I would have written. Except it concluded with my usual ending lines.

But the thoughts that had been meandering through my brain this week had to do with what makes us tick.  What is it that gives us purpose, that provides meaning to our lives?  One of my prompts was a 17^th century hymn taken from a book written by Paul Bunyan, ‘To be a pilgrim’.  It is a rousing hymn, with fascinating characters, imaginative phrases like: ‘Hobgoblin nor foul fiend shall daunt his spirit’.  For young children it was somewhat incomprehensible, but it got the blood circulating.  Paul Bunyan was one of my father’s favorites, and as he stood at the front of the church, he would be conducting the congregation, his arms compelling everyone to sing their loudest.  Our lungs would be expanded, our diaphragms contracted, as we projected our harmonies out into the countryside.

There is something restorative about communal singing, whether it is religious or secular. While singing together you are part of a unit, whether singing in unison or in harmony.  Nothing like a good sing-along. 

Another phrase which I had saved as a prompt was taken from a documentary about America’s National Parks.  ‘The wilderness redeems us’, which is a fascinating thought.  It is in such wild places that it is possible to feel the connection to the divine, to the sacred, to the life force, in that cathedral of nature.  Recently we have been making weekly trips out into the less developed area of southwest Florida.  It is not exactly wilderness, since much of it was part of the sugar belt, but in those wide-open spaces, where buildings are sparce and never much taller than two stories, it allows you to breathe, to feel unpressured by the usual rush and bustle of the city.  While you drive, and when you pause, you will be thrilled by an overhead hawk; teased by a distant tap-tap-tap of a woodie woodpecker; awed by the grace of an egret standing motionless at the edge of a canal; somewhat disgusted by a gaggle of blackheaded ‘john crows’ – carrion vultures cleaning up a carcass at the roadside.  And yet in flight those birds soar on high, graceful from a distance.

What makes me write each week (waiting until Friday morning to write my message) is another question.  It has given purpose to my desire to write, my love of words, and a need to keep something going that was started by my father.  For those who may not know, my father, as chaplain of my high school, conducted devotions in that Christian-founded school each Friday morning.  As a man with a sense of humor, as well as a strong faith, his messages were laced with stories taken from his life, meant to inspire and entertain a hall full of restless young people.  I have often been approached by different generations of past students who remember his stories, some of which were quite unbelievable, since like a good poet, he may have taken license with a few. But he was a man of purpose and vision, and in some way I hope I have continued the tradition. As a man of faith he was unshakeable. 

My son who researched ChatGPT for me also offered his own FMM this morning.  In it he defined faith as a journey without a destination, which reconnects me to one of my father’s favorite quotes: “It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive”.  When we make the journey the purpose of our life, we are forced to bring our attention to each moment, to find opportunities to marvel, to slow down and smell the coffee.  In a fast-paced world where we are driven to get somewhere, to achieve something, to be someone, we are missing out on these moments to connect to ourselves and to each other.

At a time when we are bombarded with bad news, with images of people who are so corrupted by their need for power that they threaten the democratic foundations of this country, it is good to reflect on those things that redeem us, that save us from the worst of our impulses.  I have always hoped that by confronting the worst of us, by exposing the veins of hate and rage that run through this country we can begin to heal, to see the best in each other.  Borrowing again from my son’s message: growth hurts, and it is not the easy choice. It will take a lot of love to do this, and perhaps a lot of singing. 

This Friday morning, I hope you can identify your own reason for being.  In the words of another spiritual leader, ‘We are all just walking each other home’ (Ram Dass).  May you get a chance to find redemption in nature, and greet everyone you meet.  And if you can, sing out loud. 

Have a wonderful weekend, Family!

One Love.

Namaste.