A Time to Fall

This afternoon, M and I ran around outside playing hide and seek.

I was crouched behind a snowbank and peeking through the trees as I watched him 'seek'. 
As he ran across the ice, he slipped and fell.  My immediate instinct was to run, catch him and make sure that he was alright.
But, being a fairly competitive 'hider', I waited and watched.
He stood, brushed himself off, and then laughed.  Then he started to run and slide and fall intentionally.

It seems that, as a mother, I will always want to run and make things better, make sure that he isn't hurt, make sure that I can soothe him when he is.  But the truth is, I can't be there every moment.
And sometimes, I need to wait and watch him fall. 
And sometimes, the falling will lead to laughter and important lessons and beautiful things that neither of us could have imagined.

One more day of giving thanks...

"They grow up so quickly, don't they?"
"Enjoy them now..."
"Where does the time go?"

But the truth is, I love this pace.
I've enjoyed every moment (well, most of the moments).
And I know exactly where the time has gone.

It's gone to weeks of learning how to nurse, then driving back and forth to the hospital every day for a month.
It's gone to blurry eyed nights and early mornings.
It's been filled with beautiful smiles and delicious laughter.
With rolling and sitting and crawling and walking.  And then running and rolling and today for the first time, riding a tricycle and doing a somersault.

Naturally, time hastens past.
But each age is a beautiful one, and we are blessed to share life with these boys.

I pray that I will not forget the sacred experience of each day, each moment.
And that I will not look back with regret on how quickly time has flown, but rather give thanks for all that we have known.

Birds Sitting On Trees

It's been a long, long time since I've written.

I suppose that I've gotten a little caught up (sometimes weighed down) by life.
By houses and babies and cars and work and some things that are important, and some things that are not.

I've been living in gratitude, despair, self-loathing, delight, excitement, worry, fear, anticipation, deep love and a million other things.

And I never forget that...

I am blessed.
I am blessed.
I am blessed.

Lately, I've been noticing my need for self-reflection.  In a former life (or a former part of this one), there was ample opportunity to talk late into the night, or spent afternoons in cafes, drinking coffee and pondering life as it is lived.
These days, late nights come quickly and are often an opportunity to do the dishes, do some yoga, or sleep.
Afternoons present themselves as times of joy and delight and wonder and awe, but rarely reflection.

I've been spending some time thinking about developing my inner self.  Rooting myself in what is 'unseen', and learning to rely less on others to determine my confidence and strength and more on what lies within.

And then I happened upon this:

It was just what I needed to hear.  A good reminder.
A good place to start in my rekindled desire for reflection.

I Arise...

(^-New Year's Eve 2008-^)

During our long term assistant meeting in November, Jenn chose a new year reflection for our faith sharing.
It struck me that, for the Church, a new year starts at the beginning of Advent, and so we end up celebrating two new years.
This time of newness allows for some considerable reflection on the year that has passed. For me, this year (as so many other years) has been incredibly rich. It has been filled with great joys and great struggles. It has been a year of growth and love.

In reviewing 2009, I thought that I could use a slightly adapted version of Jenn's reflection as its basis:

I Arise in the New Year

I arise with amazement at the presence of the Holy One.

Certainly, the presence of the Divine in my life has been present throughout the year. I began 2009 with a week long meditation and yoga retreat in an ashram in a small village in Tamil Nadu, India. I spent much of the week reflecting on mysticism in world religions, non-attachment and seeking the Divine within.

I arise with gratitude for life.

Certainly, each year is a testament to my gratitude for life. I am thankful for so much - my time abroad, the ability to come home and share the darkness in my partner's life, the opportunities that have presented themselves at just the right time. I am thankful not only for my own life, but for the lives of so many others with whom I had the privilege to cross paths with this past year. For Keith who was there in Bangalore to listen at just the right time; for Christopher and Chikku and Theresa and Georgie who openly shared their lives with me for just brief moment; for Kathi who reminded me of the possibility of instant human connection; for Amil whose life I celebrate every day; for Chris who showed me the true compassion of an honest homecoming; for Jenn who sat with me in the depths of my despair; for my Mum and dad whose hearts have proven to be so strong in so many ways.
How could I not give thanks for this 'wild and precious life'?

I arise with hope that all shall be well.

Certainly, throughout the year, there were a number of moments when hope seemed dim. Or perhaps, when the idea that things would be 'well' was questioned.
Maggie's response for a sore belly or some other affliction is to state 'No well, no well' - certainly the hope for the year to come is that our sore bellies, and any other afflictions will be healed, and all shall be well.

I arise with courage to meet what will be difficult.

Every year seems to bring its own difficulties. The ending of 2008 into 2009 I found myself wandering in a new country, a new culture, a new community. This (I will not lie) was difficult. In fact, learning to live within a new context was incredibly uncomfortable.
Finding myself underneath a different set of stars proved to be a very difficult task (as it always is!)
Leaving that to unexpectedly return to Canada was difficult.
Finding myself homeless, and lost within the darkness of a Canadian winter and the illness of my loved one was difficult.

Making the decision to give up a summer of musical theatre in order to honour my commitments and relationships was difficult.

2009 proved that I was given the courage to deal with those difficulties, I can only search for more in the year to come.

I arise with conviction to do what is life-giving.

In June, I was called to step into a new role in our L'Arche community. Since then, I have spent a great deal of time asking myself and others - "What is it that gives you life?"
In 2009, life-giving moments for me were quite small and delicate...
...precariously crossing the street in Bangalore (risking life and limb) to visit a jewellry store with Theresa

...sharing uproarious laughter with my sister in a far-off, foreign land

...celebrating the 80th birthday of a man who deserved gala celebrations

...lying in the grass on our front lawn

...kayaking in the cardigan river

...having 5 of my truest, greatest friends stand by my side during an incredibly important moment

...being surrounded by an overwhelming contingent of friends and family for our celebration of marriage

...speaking true and honest vows to the love of my life

...duck hunting (or rather, watching) with my big brother

...and so many more...

I arise with eyes ever alert for beauty.

2009, as with so many years has been filled with so much beauty. My desire, is to continue to have eyes to see it - wherever and in whatever form it appears.

So much of the beauty in my life exists in the smiles of friends and family; the warm affection of loved ones; the open arms and remembrance of my name when I return home.

I arise with openness to greater truth.

Openness. 2009 opened me in so many ways.
It opened me to new responsibilities (in my role as Coordinator of Assistants and a member of the Leadership team), new ways of living (our move from a L'Arche house to a home of our own) and new commitments (our brand new marriage).

I have also been challenged in my commitment to many different relationships - to find a good and true way to be a contributing member of my family; to be honest in my friendships and to be creative in finding time and different ways to be together.

I arise with desire for continued transformation.

Jean Vanier often speaks of the transformation that takes place within L'Arche. Indeed, the longer I live in this community, the more I see how my heart has been transformed.
This year, through my relationships with people like Cathy, Maggie, Chris, Buddy and Coralee, I have learned that there are so many forms of home and that we belong to each other.

I arise with compassion for the hurting ones in the cosmos.

My Indian experience opened my eyes to another piece of the cosmos. I was touched by the family in Bangalore city that welcomed me at 9:30 at night into their tiny home and wouldn't rest until they had fed me masala dhosa and chai until I couldn't eat any more. I was touched by Albert - an assistant at Asha Niketan- who kept only 200 rupees of his salary and sent the rest home to his family.
2009 also introduced me to Pippa (and her great vision) Pippa's Place, and Erik Thomas - a sweet little boy in Nakuru, Kenya who is a constant reminder of our ability to affect small changes in our world.
I can only hope that the year ahead brings me more lessons, and gifts me with a greater propensity for compassion.

I arise with grief still settled in my spirit.

The grief of 2009 perhaps roots itself in the grief of 2008. Angela's death continues to walk along with me - as I reflected on the difficulty she would have traveling around India, as we celebrated her life on the 25th of May, and as I listed to "Au Claire de la Lune" sung in 3 part harmony at our wedding reception. While the 'year of magical thinking' is apparently complete, that grief remains.

I arise with a sense of kinship with all whom I love.

The celebration of our wedding on 5 September was a major landmark of 2009. The sense of kinship, the sense of love that we felt amongst our families, community and friends was unparalleled. The support of my parents, brothers and sisters who traveled from far and wide and celebrated joyously reminded me that I am truly blessed.

2009 allowed us to celebrate with others whom we love - with Savannah and Todd, Sarah and James, I give thanks for their commitments to each other and the beautiful and honest relationships that they model so well.

I arise with respect as others mentor and deepen my vision.

In November, I attended two national L'Arche events - our National Assembly, and our HR Conference. In early December, I attended our Regional Assembly. Throughout each and every one of these events I often sat in awe and considered my good fortune in throwing my lot in with so many incredible, inspiring people.
The conversations that I had only deepened my commitment to this life that I am living and made my desire for increased depth even greater.

I arise with happiness, knowing that I am invited to live life fully.

The word 'happy' entered into many conversations in 2009. Perhaps, because I didn't feel 'happy' very often. But this is perhaps only because life had so many more layers than those that would allow 'happy' to suffice in its description.
The year was full. There was discomfort, peace, worry, frustration, despair, anger, loneliness, hope, and great joy.
The contrast of this range of emotions does not indicate negativity and positivity, but rather the depth and the breadth of which I was able to live this year.
Fully.

I arise with love for the Holy One, my Intimate Companion.

As I wandered through 2009, the journey continued. The search for vocation, for understanding of myself, my relationship with the Divine and my place in the world is an ongoing one. The journey continues.

“You never really leave a place or person you love, part of them you take with you,leaving a part of yourself behind.”

The ring of temple bells.
The cock crowing across the street.
Melodies of early morning bhajans.

Then the ring of the our kitchen bell.
Din through the hallways as the day begins.
Black coffee.

The speech of breakfast time...
'Saka?', 'Sako.','Eita?', 'Eito.', 'Prayer marana'...

The heat, the smell of the streets.

This morning I was hit by a two wheeler.
It wasn't really moving fast.
And it was going in the opposite direction to the traffic.
Why would I think to look in the opposite direction on a one way street?

And yet, I'll miss the oblivion that people have to each other,
and the extreme sense of welcome.
The way making a fuss can produce faster service,
and bartering is a way of life.

I'll miss the sporadic monsoon showers
and the cows in the street.

And of course,
I'll miss the men and women
with whom I've shared the last 6 months (or so)
of my life.

Intensely.

Unexpected Bend in the Road or..."Ah, Toto, we're not in Bangalore anymore..."

Certainly, life has its twists and turns.

A few weeks ago, the man who means more to me than anyone in the world fell ill.

There was scarcely a doubt in my mind where I needed to be, so I've returned to the land of ice and snow - and now we wait.  

Amil's recovery is going to be a slow process, but we have faith, and accept this as just one more visitor in our guest house.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

(Jalal ad-Din Muhammad Rumi 1207-1273)

Warriors of light and flowers and temples and love...

The past few weeks have been filled to the brim with things that I have only ever imagined (and so I apologize in advance for the considerable length of this post).

Celebrations in a temple (I am now assured a place in heaven):

(Dharmendra took me to the temple where we waited in line over an hour so that we could get a glimpse of the god. Apparently, the 7th of January is a very auspicious time, and if you look at the god on this day you are assured a place in heaven!)

a trip to a monastery:

(The Little Brothers of Jesus are long time friends of Asha Niketan, these are the fields near their new house)

harvest celebrations:

("Pongal oh Pongal"- that's what we yelled when we through some of the Pongal -a sweet rice dish- into the garden for the birds. In Tamil Nadu the harvest celebration is known as Pongal, however in Karnataka -where we are- it's known as Sankranthi. We were lead in a beautiful Pooja -prayer- by Sri Shiva Shankar, the director of our board.)

And of course, a week long stay in an ashram, and a trip to Chennai.

Let me tell you about my travels.

Retreat is something that has been a relatively new experience in my life.
I think because I grew up in one of the most beautiful places in the world, a place where many others go for retreat, the concept never seemed to leave much of an impression on my mind.
However, when I moved to L’Arche, we were allotted one week each year for a personal retreat. My first year, I had the opportunity to share in a New Assistant’s Formation – a week to reflect on and process all that we had lived in our first year at L’Arche. For me, the week was touching and insightful and left me with a renewed commitment to community.
My second retreat was an Emmaus retreat held in Montreal. It was my first week of (relative) silence, and included a great number of challenges throughout. However, the idea of walking the road together deeply resounded with me, and I was thankful for a week to spend in the company of others who were walking the same road.
Last year’s retreat took me to Taize in France. What can I say about Taize? It challenged me – made me consider my ideas about community and put them up against monastic and other forms of community; it broadened my scope in terms of communication with others; it showed me the beauty of simple prayer and reinforced my commitment to song as prayer.

Now this y ear. This year, but by the grace of God, I ended up on a retreat at an ashram in Tamil Nadu, India. Even just writing seems like something that I should have read in a book rather than having lived it.
The ashram was run by Father Korko (pronounce Koko) – a friend of Asha Niketan, and the spiritual director for Asha Niketan Bangalore. He is a Jesuit priest, and draws much of his spirituality from mystical experience.
The ashram was brand new, we were the very first retreat group.
And the setting was INCREDIBLE.
Set in rural Tamil Nadu, in a village called Kombai, against the backdrop of ‘small mountains’, a dam and numerous fields that grew mint, rice, grapes and beautiful flowers.
The ashram itself was simple, and the meditation room was made of thatch.
We spent the week practicing yoga (asanas every morning, karma yoga in the afternoon), learning about mystical spirituality, reading from the Bhagavad Gita, meditation (still one of my greatest struggles) and taking time for silence.
We were challenged to perform “Nam Japa”, which is the ‘act’ of reciting the Lord’s name with the belief that: ‘where our mind is, there also are we’; so to have the Lord as our sole focus brings us that much closer to the mystical experience of oneness with God.
The week was enlightening – Father Korko’s spiritual journey was inspiring and he was an excellent accompanier – offering sound insight and challenging my perception of Christ; challenging – I was once again faced with the fact that I remain an outsider. All of the women in the village called me “Velakaramma” which means “white mummy”, and when we went to have tea at a neighbour’s house, the lady of the house asked Father Korko if I would need to have my tea prepared separately.
Nevertheless, there was great kindness from the people of the village who showed us their houses, their fields, and toured us through the mountain and there was always something interesting to watch, including a man who climbed a coconut tree (I’m sorry that I didn’t have my camera!)
The week itself was truly a blessing, and I returned refreshed and renewed in my search for God.

I was home in Bangalore but a few days, when I hopped on a midnight bus to Chennai.
I’ll write it here, so that it is clearly documented:
I, Haley Batchilder, being of sound mind, will never travel on an over night bus again. EVER.

However, my arrived in Chennai was smooth, and I received the most wonderful greeting at the gate by Peter. Peter is a long time friend of the founding community leader of my community in Cape Breton, and we moved easily into conversation.
The Chennai community has two houses, Asha Jyoti (Light of Hope) and Prem Jyoti (Light of Love). Both houses were originally in a relatively rural area surrounded by fields, but the last 5 years has seen the city of Chennai grow up around it, and it is now quite urban.

Nevertheless, the main property (once you make it past the garbage at the front gate) is very lovely. There are new workshops (where they do papier mache, candles, card making), a new prayer hall (where we prayed each morning and shared bhajan on Thursday afternoon) and new bedrooms for the women. The property has coconut trees, and gardens-in-progress. I was overwhelmed by the positive energy of the place, and the warm welcome that was so graciously offered. Some people from Prem Jyoti:

On my second day, I ventured to Mamallapuram. Lonely Planet describes the place as “Tamil Nadu’s only true travellers’ enclave, a mix of sun, seafood and sand with a dash of seediness thrown in. But it’s much more than that. Famous for its ancient rock carvings, especially Shore Temple, it was once the second capital and seaport of the Pallava kings of Kanchipuram”. All true.

Shore Temple...

The Indian Ocean...
The rock carvings – AMAZING. What sets them apart is that they depict everyday events – people milking cows, women ‘hanging about’ on the street,etc.etc…
And of course, as is usually the case, I was conned by a number of people selling their wares. I’m just constantly in awe of the magnificent handmade items that exist everywhere – from my new leather sandals, to the painted silk, to the tiny rock carvings – the artisan population in India is overwhelming, and so I don’t feel any terrible regret for spending my money on their art.
In the evening, I returned to Chennai, and Peter took me to the beach. Beautiful. What a perfect way to end my visit.

I caught a night train home to Bangalore (note to self – ALWAYS travel by train), met a lovely British girl who I took home and introduced to Asha Niketan, and then I continued on with the week.

Chennai Central Station (I LOVE train stations!)

Life continues to be filled with many riches and I am in a perpetual state of giving thanks. I give thanks in particular for the small joys and the many challenges. I’m not always certain in which direction I’m headed, but I’m thankful for the journey.

In closing, I should mention that during our evening prayers we often pray for all those in Israel, Gaza and Sri Lanka.
And so, some parting words from Paulo Coelho…
Peace is not the opposite of war.
We can have peace in our heart even in the midst of the fiercest battles, because we are fighting for our dreams. When our friends have lost hope, the peace of the Good Fight helps us to carry on.
A mother who can feed her child has peace in her eyes, even when her hands are trembling because diplomacy has failed, bombs are falling, and soldiers dying.
An archer drawing back his bow has peace in his mind, even though all is muscles are tense with the physical effort.
Therefore, for warriors of light, peace is not the opposite of war, because they are capable of:
a. Distinguishing between the transient and the enduring. They can fight for their dreams and for their survival, but respect bonds forged over time, through culture and religion.
b. Knowing that their adversaries are not necessarily their enemies
c. Being aware that their actions will affect five future generations, and that their children and grandchildren will benefit (or suffer) the consequences
d. Remembering what the I Ching says: ‘Perseverance is favourable.’ But they know too that perseverance is not the same things as stubbornness. Battles that go on longer than necessary end up destroying the enthusiasm for later reconstruction.

For the warrior of light, there are no abstractions. Every opportunity to transform himself is an opportunity to transform the world.
For the warrior of light, pessimism does not exist. He rows against the tide if necessary; for when he is old and tired, he will be able to say to his grandchildren that he came into this world to understand his neighbor better, not to condemn his brother.