Dear Friends,

 We pray you are safe and well.

 In the spirit of our philosophy of co-creating community and our awareness that the Spirit speaks through each of us, we invite you to share your meditations with us as well. We truly believe that in God’s economy of abundance, when we share our blessings, our thoughts, our feelings, we are all made richer.

Today's Meditation is entitled "A House Called Tomorrow" by Alberto Rios. The poem comes to us courtesy of Hospice Chaplain Krysia Burnham. (Be sure to read the short bio of him at the end.)

 We invite you to join us as we commit ourselves to working tirelessly to end systemic and structural racism in our society, in healthcare, in the workplace, in the Church--wherever it shows up so that everyone may come to have more abundant life. May this meditation nourish our contemplative-active hearts and sustain all of us in action.

 

We hope and pray that you and your loved ones experience genuine peace of mind and heart, and remain in good health during this challenging time.

 

In this "Season of Ordinary Time" in the Church Year, may this be a time of peace, of healing and hope, of the infusion of joy in your life!

 

With our love and care,

 

Ron & Jean

 

Meditation 103: A House Called Tomorrow (Alberto Rios)

 

You are not fifteen, or twelve, or seventeen—

You are a hundred wild centuries

 

And fifteen, bringing with you

In every breath and in every step

 

Everyone who has come before you,

All the yous that you have been,

 

The mothers of your mother,

The fathers of your father.

 

If someone in your family tree was trouble,

A hundred were not:

 

The bad do not win—not finally,

No matter how loud they are.

 

We simply would not be here

If that were so.

 

You are made, fundamentally, from the good.

With this knowledge, you never march alone.

 

You are the breaking news of the century.

You are the good who has come forward

 

Through it all, even if so many days

Feel otherwise. But think:

 

When you as a child learned to speak,

It’s not that you didn’t know words—

 

It’s that, from the centuries, you knew so many,

And it’s hard to choose the words that will be your own.

 

From those centuries we human beings bring with us

The simple solutions and songs,

 

The river bridges and star charts and song harmonies

All in service to a simple idea:

 

That we can make a house called tomorrow.

What we bring, finally, into the new day, every day,

 

Is ourselves. And that’s all we need

To start. That’s everything we require to keep going.

 

Look back only for as long as you must,

Then go forward into the history you will make.

 

Be good, then better. Write books. Cure disease.

Make us proud. Make yourself proud.

 

And those who came before you? When you hear thunder,

Hear it as their applause.

 

 

Born in 1952, Alberto Ríos is the inaugural state poet laureate of Arizona and the author of numerous books of poetry and prose, including Not Go Away is My Name (Copper Canyon Press, 2020); The Smallest Muscle in the Human Body (Copper Canyon Press, 2002), which was nominated for the National Book Award; Whispering to Fool the Wind (Sheep Meadow Press, 1982), which won the 1981 Walt Whitman Award selected by Donald Justice; and the novel The Iguana Killer: Twelve Stories of the Heart (Blue Moon and Confluence Press, 1984), which won the Western States Book Award. He served as a Chancellor of the Academy of American Poets from 2014 to 2020.

 

"Alberto Ríos is a poet of reverie and magical perception," wrote the judges of the 2002 National Book Awards, "and of the threshold between this world and the world just beyond."