Canticle of the Feathered Ones

Earth moves in a mysterious way, her wonders to unfold. 

The wonders of it all are more poignant this year, as my time with the Center for Courage and Renewal (CCR) increases.

It’s difficult to explain to people “what happens” in a Circle of Trust. The idea of reading poems and reflecting on them sounds more like a college literature course where the poems are “workshopped” with a critical and intellectual lens. It’s different with Courage work, where the poem “works” YOU! And it’s not an intellectual working, rather a spiritual one.

I am the academician and farmer. Growing up on the farm, reading was leisure and there was little time for that. Poetry, I don’t really remember any. The same went for flowers. The land was for producing crops to eat and sell. Mom had a few geraniums in front of the house. But the garden was for vegetables. Row upon row of food for the body.

My first Courage to Teach retreat was a year long seasonal offering with 12 other teachers, K-16.  My research was on Teaching and Learning. I loved pedagogy. This was my sabbatical year and I was anxious to learn some new techniques. I remember asking the facilitator on that second weekend (I had missed the first so I felt behind) what I was supposed to DO during the 2 hours of reflective/free time.  I don’t remember how many times and different ways she answered my question – I couldn’t hear it.  It was a concept as foreign to me as reading fiction for pleasure – or a fertile field of flowers simply for the sake of beauty. She finally put her hand on my shoulder, gave a supportive and knowing chuckle and said; “Paula, that’s why this is called a retreat and not a workshop.” I was far from home!

I confess I spent the first 2 retreats in the series of 5, a skeptic.  That was almost 3 years, and several Courage retreats, ago.  

I am not a different person. I still grow lots of vegetables, read mostly things that will inform my work, and am driven with “to do” lists that spin in my head much of the time. BUT, now I plant flowers, I read poetry, I understand retreat – and I can feel when my soul needs to be fed.

An August Courage to Teach retreat in Duluth with my UMD colleagues and others, allowed a visit to Nammah by my mentor, Debbie Stanley. I am now a full fledged facilitator - ready to fly!

In September, a collaboration with another Courage colleague, Winton Boyd, at Wisdom Ways, featured Sara and her music. The integration of music, live and engaged music, into my work with Courage has been a dream an intention all along. The theme of Leaf Falling, Bud Forming inspired an original piece for the retreat. We sang, we moved, we reflected on what we were letting go of and what new was forming, ready to winter over.

In the meantime, Nammah is preparing her wintering over. The melancholy that putting her to bed brings is softened when I remember the requisite

Hidden Seed deep in the dark soil of the earth. Fertile Ground, Womb of the Night, bring us new birth (lyrics from Sara's song Darkness Cover Me). 

Along with the melancholy, there is a sense of hope and releif that in this time of darkness and rest, her wonders will again unfold come spring. What lies in waiting!

It WAS another summer of abundance for Nammah and her homestead. While the focus was on the feathered ones, Nammah herself was full of splendor.

The feathered ones, aka (Icelandic Chickens) have multiplied from 8 to 15 in our first year. Each new hatch seemed to stimulate more construction in what is now known as the Hen Hilton!

The summer of chicks also drew a variety of young visitors - from L.A. and San Francisco, CA; Austin, TX; Seattle, WA and Duluth, MN

As well as some not so young visitors from South Dakota.

My recent retreats, as participant, with CCR included themes of the feathered ones, along with the notion of sanctuary. Nammah IS a sanctuary, for us, her visitors as well as the many feathered and non-feathered ones she hosts. A Canticle of the Feathered Ones. 

As I enter into this season of decline, pondering the already formed buds that will be wintering over, I also think about the seeds that are scattered by the feathered ones. This year, we had random sunflowers in unintended paces. As well as those planted with great intention.

What strikes me is the unknown of where, or even what, will emerge - Seeds that the birds have planted. Sometimes it is the unintended seeds that grow into the most magnificent flowers!

Winter is on her way. What lies in waiting?

She fashions beauty out of clay, like straw spun into gold.