img_8904

meditations on the sea

It is vast against the horizon. So much so…it IS the horizon. It shifts the sand beneath my cold toes, and still further dizzies my eyes with its periphery-dancing. Yet the sea does not dread the distances, calculating arrivals and departures, lost in the abyss of so-whats and then-whats. It is buoyant despite emotional spasms. At one rock outcropping–battered knuckles of stone rising against the blue–there is anger. Foam churns, one million crashes in a busy liquid intersection. It is violent, destructive. Just five rock-knuckles down, small children and grown men laugh in the surf, their bodies caressed by the gentle tide. Here, Read More

building a prayer

It has been a rough couple of months in the Davenport household. In January, news from Dave’s work of impending “changes” resulted in insecurity. In February, I made the heartbreaking decision to resign from the school that has formed me for the last five years. So many questions plagued us: will we have jobs? will we take pay cuts? will we have to sell a car? will we have to move? will our lifestyle have to change? These weights, compiled with other disappointments, had me in daily meltdowns for nearly a month. But, alas, things have worked out for us. As Read More

image1

eroding into beauty

With the death of my Mom, my anxiety found new life. Like any parasite from a host, it crept into my veins and fed off my sanity, growing in strength while I grew in weakness. Memories from this time flash all too slowly, too stubbornly, before my eyes. I remember the endless car ride back to her hospital in Chicago, racing against the clock of her pulse. Trapped in the suffocating space of my own mobile powerlessness, I physically felt death in my own body: heart racing, shortness of breath, uncontrollable fits of weeping, tremors that rocked my very foundation. I Read More

IMG_1941

Campsite: A Morning Benediction

Rise, you steam from pottery-mug of dark roast, curl your other-world whispers up and away.   Shine, you golden-fingers of sunlight, forge your fractured path through the labyrinth-forest and dew-drop-mirrors.   Dance, you moths or flies or nymphs, whatever your magic is, sprinkle joy in in the morning-air like cloud-confetti.   Play on, you liquid-symphony-stream, raise your rushing flurry of applause, confident and ceaseless.   Tease on, you fuzzy acrobat-squirrels, cluck and chirp and rattle us in your mockery of ducks and birds and snakes, safe in the playground of secret-branches.   Testify, you living-mosaic of God, blanketing me under a Read More

IMG_1941

a guided sanctuary tour: collapsing the boundaries between the sacred and the secular

And let them make me a sanctuary, that I may dwell in their midst. –Exodus 25 This Scripture has crawled into my heart and taken a seat for the last week. For much of my life, I have made clear distinctions between the sacred and secular. When I wanted to meet with the Divine, it most likely entailed quiet times and church meetings. But the more I’ve lived life, the deeper my conviction has become to collapse the boundary between the sacred and secular. If God is ALL, then He, by nature, is encompassed in both those extremes…as well as in all Read More

IMG_1941

an ocean poem

“beach glass: or what I found on the beach” the sea is a turquoise heart pulsating with life ever filtering, ever glittering with each wave, pumping lifeblood into a million liquid heartbeat stories of salt. I, too, am heart.   the sea is a pillowey breath inhaling and exhaling from our collective lungs sometimes deep crashing sometimes tranquil bobbing a rhythmic circle of give & take, claim & release liquid surrender to the storied sands of time. I, too, am breath.  

IMG_1941

God, The Anchor

My dear friend Pam, who is inspiring me with her courageous adventure of sailing the seas with her family, was kind enough to guest blog with me, a landlocked friend with no sea legs or sense, about anchors. (The bold font is my own emphasis.) What is the purpose of an anchor? The purpose of an anchor is to hold a boat/floating vehicle in a general area. It is used so that the boat does not float with the tidal or current motion of the water it is in. How does an anchor work? An anchor works by digging the pointy ends Read More

IMG_1941

seasons of nature. seasons of grief.

Spring is in the air, and with it all the glorious resurrections of the grass, the trees, the flowers. The apparent death of winter is losing its grip on the earth as new life emerges in laughing light. This revolving pattern of transitions is one of my favorite things about Creation. Through the seasons, I am reminded that though today is blanketed in blistering, smothering heat, there will come a day when the gentle breeze will caress the golden strands of aspens. Though today the earth is cold and silent, buried beneath polluted ice, there will come a day when the Read More

IMG_1941

and so it goes in life

We spent the past weekend camping in the desert of Utah, tucked into a sandstone labyrinth, beneath the watchful gaze of crimson-colored, ancient, rock-people. After arriving and setting up camp, we sat and listened to the buzzing echo in the near distance of our own ears. It was that. quiet. That buzz reflected the pervasive noise of our busy lives and the challenge of transitioning into the foreign land of stillness. And so it goes in life. The constant chatter of social media, demanding schedules, endless tasks, and false relaxation haunts our hearing… until it doesn’t. But the transition takes time, patience, Read More

IMG_1941

13.1 miles of mantras, mysteries, muffs and other musings

Methinks that the moment my legs began to move, my thoughts began to flow. (Thoreau) For runners of long distances, the battle is far more mental than physical. This very challenge breathed down my neck as I was stuck in a very scary place for nearly 3 hours this past weekend during Moab’s Canyonland Half–and that scary place was my head. What I realized in that place is that once the start gun cracks against the morning sky, the mind runs, charging ahead like a schizophrenic Tasmanian devil. Here is a look into the course my mental devil ran. Pre-gunish: What Read More