A message for the Durham, ME Quaker meeting, April 19, 20

Thank you for inviting me to bring a message.

My name is Lori Milner. I live in Chelsea, I attend UUCC, the Unitarian
Universalist Community Church in Augusta, and I know Leslie Manning
from our mutual affiliation with the Chaplaincy Institute of Maine, or ChIME.
I’m honored to be here with you today.

Earth Day is this week, but for those who love the Earth and are concerned
about her health, every day is Earth Day.

My opening words are those from Wendell Berry, “The Peace of Wild Things”

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

In the midst of the human-created chaos that is the daily news cycle, I
often look out my window or go outside. Even in the midst of our concerns
about climate change, the sun still rises and sets; the moon shows her
lovely face, shining in my windows at night. The stars are brilliant,
especially in crisp cold air. The trees are standing tall, patiently waiting for
the changing of seasons and their leaves to bud and unfurl. Birds are
singing. Grass will grow, and I will have to mow it. Over and over. I live on a
road that ends in Butternut Park, across from Hallowell. My dog, Sarayu,
and I walk down the hill to the park and the Kennebec River. The geese
and ducks are back. An eagle soars overhead, coming in to rest in the top
of the pine tree where the nest is waiting for eggs. The Maine sky is the
blue of Mother Mary’s robe. I’m finding solace and refuge in the natural
world.

Now, I’m not your typical outdoorsy person. I don’t like going barefoot. I’m
afraid of ticks and I had a nice run-in with brown tail moth rash the first
summer after I moved back to Maine. Welcome home. I like the sun, but
when it’s out, you’ll find me in the shade. I’ll go in the water, but I wear
swim shoes. I don’t like getting rained on. I hate sweating! Yet, here I am,
about to begin a practice of wandering in the outdoors, engaging in sacred
interaction with the natural world surrounding me. Not to use the Earth and
nature to make me feel better, but to get to know and love Creation in a
reciprocal way that is new for me. And I’ll be inviting others to do it with
me, as I am starting a wild church in the Augusta area.

In her book Church of the Wild, How Nature Invites Us into the Sacred,
Victoria Loorz shares her story of falling in love with the natural world
outside her door. Restoring relationship and entering into conversation
with the more than human parts of creation, taking her pastoral ministry
from indoor churches into the holy wild, with respect and reciprocity.

Some definitions:
Wild: not out of control, but pertains to the natural world itself, not tamed
or domesticated.
Church: an opportunity for intentional connection with the sacred through
nature.

The heart of a wild church gathering is the invitation to wander in the area
with a sense of wonder and curiosity. See if something calls to you, that is,
it catches your attention. Or it may not be one thing, but the entire scenery
around you that draws you into relationship with All That Is. “Sauntering is
an ancient spiritual practice of slowly and reverently wandering through
nature, open to the possibility of an encounter with a particular place, wild
being, and the unknown.” (Field Guide to Church of the Wild, pg 102.)
Sixteenth century mystic St. John of the Cross wrote about his sauntering
(Field Guide, pg 103):

I was sad one day and went for a walk;
I sat in a field.
A rabbit noticed my condition and came near.
It often does not take more than that to help at times – to just be close to
creatures who are so full of knowing,
so full of love that they don’t – chat,
they just gaze with their marvelous understanding.

In the book of Job 12:7-8 in The Message translation it says:
Ask the animals what they think – let them teach you:
let the birds tell you what’s going on.
Put your ear to the earth – learn the basics.
Listen – the fish in the ocean will tell you their stories.
So today I would like to invite you into a saunter, a “wander and wonder”
time. We won’t be going outside, but as you came in, each of you was
offered a pine cone. Is there anyone who didn’t get one?

I suspect you all are masters at sitting in silence, listening for the voice of
Spirit. And I think that will happen later in the service. For now I want to
invite you into a little different experience of listening to Spirit. This is an
invitation to engage with your pine cone, hold it with curiosity, see if it has
something to tell you about itself, or the Creator and/or Creation. We will
take five minutes to listen, and then offer the opportunity for a few minutes
of sharing.

There are pens and paper available if anyone wants to journal. I’ll keep
time for us.

[Pause]

Would anyone like to share what you heard, or what this was like for you?

My final invitation is to come forward if you like, and place your pine cone
somewhere on the mandala. If you want to keep your cone, feel free to
take another from the basket and place it.

I thank you for your time. Blessings to all of you