For the last while I have been reading Pope Francis’ 2020 publication: Let Us Dream: The Path to a Better Future. He writes,
“Look at us now: we put on face masks to protect ourselves and others from a virus we can’t see. But what about all those other unseen viruses we need to protect ourselves from? How will we deal with the hidden pandemics of this world, the pandemics of hunger and violence and climate change? This is a moment to dream big, to rethink our priorities—what we value, what we want, what we seek—and to commit to act in our daily life on what we have dreamed of. God asks us to dare to create something new.”1
‘The something new,’ as I perceive it, involves coming home to this planet earth. I write as a resident of Christchurch in Aotearoa, New Zealand.
Last evening I heard on our national television news cast that parts of our country are sinking around the Eastbourne and Central Wellington coastlines. In fact, our sea levels are rising twice as fast compared with previous predictions. As I have pondered this reality today I am catapulted into a deeper consideration of the choices I/we make:
- How do I foster a healthy relationship with this planet earth?
- How might I incorporate climate change into my ministry as a spiritual director?
- How might you incorporate climate change into yours?
I have discovered over the years that when I approach life with more intention in my day, I have also become more grateful, gentle, and so much more present to life’s unfolding moments. I see the bee revelling in the heart of a budding flower; I notice the subtle change of colour in the tiny field daisy; I am mesmerised by the orb of the moon that beckons me outside to revel in its brightness.
With each new day comes the invitation to immerse myself in a practice of gratitude; falling in love with the tiny field daisy, contemplating the tiny eyes of my two budgies who’s sensitivity to all around them awakens my own. I am learning that every experience opens an entry into fullness of life. And I am reminded again of Mary Oliver’s poem, “When I am Among the Trees”, where she expresses her oneness with creation:
When I am among the trees,
Especially the willows and the honey locust,
Equally the beech, the oaks and the pines,
They give off such hints of gladness.
I would almost say that they save me, and daily…
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
And call out, “Stay awhile.”
The light flows from their branches.
Stay awhile. Dream. Come home to earth.
1 Pope Francis: Let Us Dream: The Path to A Better Future (UK: Simon and Schuster, 2020), 5-6.
Christina Cathro is a New Zealander and a Sister of Our Lady of the Missions (RNDM). She holds an MA in Formative Spirituality from Duquesne University in Pittsburgh and a Doctor of Ministry from the Toronto School of Theology.
Christina is an educator. Besides teaching, her ministry has included being RNDM novice director in New Zealand, and serving as spiritual director, retreat leader, and group facilitator in several countries. She has additionally served on both the RNDM Canadian and New Zealand Leadership Teams.
To all her involvements, Christina brings a passionate sensitivity for beauty and transformation. She carries a strong sense of the Spirit working with, in, and among us, to create a world where all of life is able to flourish.
Thank you, Sandy, Bonnie and Veronica, how heart warming to be united in our common passion from opposite ends of the earth.
Dreaming with you, dear Chris! Many thanks for the encouragement and call to awareness!
Your reflection reminds me of a passage from Terry Tempest Williams, to whom you introduced me long ago: ““The eyes of the future are looking back at us and they are praying for us to see beyond our own time. They are kneeling with hands clasped that we might act with restraint, that we might leave room for the life that is destined to come.“
I know for myself, that getting older has helped my focus. I notice so much more now that I have allowed myself to go slower. I am grateful for that awareness and wish I had slowed much more in my youth. But youth wasn’t meant to be slow…which is why I appreciate this widening of my view, this appreciation of what is in all its forms. Thanks for reminding me Chris.