Two Cups of Tea at Hope’s Cafe
The Cloud of Unknowing was an assigned book when I was in the Shalem Program for Spiritual Guidance. I recall at the time that the title seemed an enigma, the concept puzzling. In hindsight, I realize I have been in that cloud any number of times.
This week I encountered the quote: “Honor the space between ‘no longer’ and ‘not yet.'” More often I am inclined to resent and resist that space. Honoring such a time would be a much more beneficial approach. While this time of recovery from extensive back surgery offers me lots of time to meditate on what might come next or even just to relax into the present moment—what a thought!—I have too often just been frustrated by it. So this blog serves to challenge me to alter my attitude!
I have stayed stranded between worlds right now, still coming to terms with having given up my pastorate, searching for what draws me, lends meaning, fulfills some outlet. I recalled this week an interchange with a client back in my therapist days. She had moved several states away and we were accomplishing therapy by phone. In response to her frustration with a decision she couldn’t find clarity about, I asked if there was some favorite place in her apartment. She described a spot she especially enjoyed, in which she felt more peaceful. I encouraged her to spend some time in that spot. She did and later reported she had found that helpful. I myself have been discovering that when I sit on my front porch in the mornings, bit by bit, I am beginning to feel some sense of peace and faint bits for consideration.
There is a poem I wrote in 2002, five years before my entrance into the Shalem program. I titled it “Rumblings” but it could have been subtitled “The Cloud of Unknowing.” It too was an enigma to me at the time when it was not at all clear to me where that poem came from within me. I was clueless why I would have written it or what it meant.
Rumblings
There are rumblings in my soul.
The earth cracks open:
Lava spills out
Across the landscape of my life,
Warming me/burning me.
There are rumblings in my soul.
The earth cradles me,
Even as it shifts,
Moving me in some direction
I strain to perceive.
There are rumblings in my soul.
The earth propels me:
Whether I stumble or find sure footing,
I am sustained.
There are rumblings in my soul:
Prophets of the earth,
Foretelling change to come,
Change erupting even now,
Gift of the universe.
—-Kate Stulce
Written October 2002
Sante Fe, New Mexico*
* Descriptive of the spiritual journey I have experienced,
which was only beginning to evolve when I wrote this poem.
If you are in any “betwixt and between” time, I hope you will take the opportunity to honor it.
The invitation is open to share “two cups of tea” anytime at Hope’s Café, or anywhere you share companionship and conversation.
May we be bearers of hope, the “wait staff” of Hope’s Café for each other and all those we encounter. Shalom, Kate
Hope's Cafe 