It was wonderful to visit with my dear friends, David and Karen Hendley, last weekend, and to have David play a couple of his songs in the Circle. In addition to being a talented singer/songwriter and nationally-respected ceramic artist, David was my best friend at Trinity University in the early 1970's. We went our separate ways after graduation; in short order, he moved to California, earned his MFA, became a professional potter and built an amazing homestead and studio on 74 acres of forest land, deep in the Piney Woods of East Texas. Meanwhile, I drifted around, following my musical inclinations to London, New York and San Francisco, before settling back in San Antonio and co-founding Celebration Circle.
LOSING TOUCH
We completely lost touch with each other for over 20 years, but reconnected instantly when we met again by happenstance at the Kerrville Folk Festival in 2002, as if it had been just a few weeks instead of two decades. While we still don't see each other as much as I'd like, time and distance don't seem to matter that much in our friendship. Although it's usually a year or so between visits, each time we get together, the conversation just picks up right where we left off.
As usual, last weekend's re-union felt all too brief, although we did have time for a couple of meals and some heart-to-heart talks. One of the things I treasure most about our relationship is the long pauses that often arise in our conversations. Neither of us has a need to fill the void with social niceties; we simply allow silence to resonate in the space between us until the next topic emerges at its own pace. Our many years of friendship have taught us to trust the silence, to know that something of real interest will arise in the gap between our words, if we will just give it time.
FEELING TOUCHED
I mention this aspect of my relationship with David as a metaphor for the similar presence of silence and willingness to trust that I am cultivating in my relationship with Spirit. At the risk of over-simplification, I believe the process of spiritual growth requires me to turn inward, enter the sacred silence and trust the profound sense of mystery I encounter there. Not just once or twice, but continually, time and again, day after day. Sometimes it's easy, sometimes not -- as was the case with the story of my thumb and surgery, which I discussed in last week's newsletter.
STAYING IN TOUCH
This week has brought a different set of choices and challenges; but my underlying story remains the same. I'm so grateful for my deeply personal relationship with this impersonal and infinitely mysterious Source that is beyond naming or explaining, but remains unfailingly Present. However often I may forget, I have an abiding faith that I will always be led to the next right step, and that the perfect person, place or thing will always emerge, as long as I can resist the urge to make it happen "my way" or according to my time line. At least, that's my story, and I'm glad to be sharing it with you.
With gratitude and blessings,
Rudi Harst
THANK YOU for holding the Circle in your heart by visualizing a generous flow of financial abundance. Thank you for supporting us as we continue our work of fostering a creative, inclusive approach to spirituality. We are deeply grateful.
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