July 31st: The Feast Day of St Ignatius, an imagined photo: Statue with Clouds at the Jesuit Center

St Ignatius, Statue with Clouds at the Jesuit Center. Photo by Wayne Stratz

I am sure there are plenty of people born on feast days of saints who don't go on retreats inspired by the spirituality of that saint, but I do. And I had gone many a year before I realized the connection.

So what is the connection. Imagination? Ignatius wanted us to imagine ourselves into biblical stories, as bystanders and key characters. By becoming part of the scene, we become part of the story and are placed into the tradition of the church. On Facebook I list my job title as CID of Nutmeg Designs , Chief Imagination Dude. Imagination leads us into places we would never experience. Our story takes shape. Imagine a JOY inside a mandala. Then design it. Then collaborate with Margaret.

Joy Mandala: Imagined by Wayne Stratz. Created by Wayne Stratz and Margaret Almon

The clouds are not an afterthought, like when a photo of a flower lands a great insect within it. I was photographing the clouds as much as I was photographing the statue of Saint Ignatius. Photography is imagination. Imagine an image recorded for history. Use the camera. My imagined designs and photographs are not crystal clear. They have some clouds floating between the idea and the finished product. Ignatius did not say how exactly to imagine a story, we may have an idea when we leap into a scene, but forcing it to play out as it was predicted foils the creative flow of imagination.

Choose a story, any story, now leap in. And follow your imagination.

St Ignatius, Statue with Clouds at the Jesuit Center. Photo by Wayne Stratz

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21 pieces towards redemption ~> or I seem to be better at imagining gifts than giving them

One ~> Mosaic Woman finds a card I addressed in August. The friend was the 21st person to make a donation to my campaign to feed the hungry. I remember offering something to whoever was the 21st. What was it? Last night I chose scraps of glass, 21 pieces of redemption. I am imagining something new. An improvisation. A gift to a friend, who has been very patient.

Two ~> in my studio window hangs a mandala. Was it not supposed to go to Cleveland with me as a gift to friends who gave me a room with quite the view.

Three ~> a baseball card sits in my closet. Had I not planned to send it to a friend, who not only commissions stained glass, but also sends me amazing photos of them in their new home.

Four ~> a card rests on my drafting table. It is for a friend, who has shown me that she truly believes my cards are drawn with hope for healing by one commission after another. My friend has been in my prayers, and yes the card is a daily reminder to pray for her, but it is time to mail it.

Time to make the gifts become a reality.

 

Imaging hope to bring peace

Why

 

I is of Imagine ~ The A to Z of one word messages

Imagine by Nutmeg Designs
lettering by Wayne Stratz
background by Margaret Almon

Imagine is word we chose to make.  For me it is a powerful reminder of times spent at the Jesuit Center in Wernersville.  Ignatius was big on using imagination in prayer.  Read scripture and place yourself into the story.  Be a bystander, be a main character ~ no matter, just place your self into the story and see where it takes you.

Of course this can be applied to real life as well.  Imagine a friend's misery before saying I can't imagine.  I think we say we can't imagine because it is painful to place ourselves into those shoes.  But if we do we can then respond to the needs of our friends.  Doing it for the stranger for the enemy is just as valuable and even more difficult.  Imagine.

trying to imagine these empty porches

A porch was on our wish list when we finally decided to buy a house. We found a street filled with them. These porches fill up when a summer thunder storm stops the flow of electricity or when trick-or-treaters in the hundreds storm down our street. Across the street the porches are scarred.

Yesterday I walked across the street and extended my hand to a man, whose three daughters fill these porches with play. Today as I left the house to run errands, I saw the woman who sits on her porch reading.

I walked across the street and listened to her story. "May you never experience such a thing... " She starts the conversation with a blessing.

She came home late that evening and smelled smoke. Now she runs through the what ifs... if only I had... if only I had...

The night of the fire, I watched as the policeman smashed through her front door. Apparently I had left the window when he carried her out preventing her bare feet from being cut by the glass.

She invited me to enter her house, but I declined, then she shows me a tie rack and a song comes to mind. I will never tell someone who has lost material objects that they are only things...

As I listen to Lyle Lovett sing, I wish I had stepped inside that house...

That picture hangin' on the wall
Was painted by a friend
He gave it to me all down and out
When he owed me ten
Now it doesn't look like much I guess
But it's all that's left of him
And it sure is nice from right over here
When the light's a little dim

Step inside my house Babe
I'll sing for you a song
I'll tell you 'bout where I've been
It shouldn't take too long
I'll show you all the things I own
My treasures you might say
Couldn't be more'n ten dollars worth
But they brighten up my day

Here's a book of poems I got
From a girl I used to know
I guess I read it front to back
Fifty times or so
It's all about the good life
And stayin' at ease with the world
It's funny how I love that book
And I never loved that girl

Hold this piece of glass
Up to the light comin' through the door
It's a prism glass I found on the road
Can you see that little rainbow
Well it's not really a prism I guess
It just broke in a funny way
I found it on my way from Texas
Headed for L.A.

This guitar was given me
By old man Thomas Gray
It's not too much to look at
But I pick it every day
It's been across the country
Four or five times I guess
Between me and old man Tom
It never got much rest

Well that's about all I own
And all I care to I guess
Except this pair of boots
And that funny yellow vest
And that leather jacket and leather bag
And hat hangin' on the wall
Just so it's not too much to carry
Could I see you again next Fall

Imagine never seeing your garden

Below is a post I just did for my horticulture blog, I felt it fit over here...

"I could tell my husband now about Goodman in the garden. I raised Goodman myself—solid black Lab—and, after a year gave him up, the way you do, for further training and a life with Alice Banks. Alice was a gardener. She and her husband relaxed on weekends tending beds of annuals and several kinds of tomatoes. When Alice and Goodman graduated from the program, Alice said I was welcome to stay in touch. It is always the Blind person's call."

from The Dog Of The Marriage, a short story by Amy Hempel

I had nearly finished the collected stories of Amy Hempel the last time I was on break from teaching. Maybe it was being on break which brought me back.

I stopped while reading and wondered... can you garden blind? Blind gardening, can you imagine? I try. I imagine the difficulties. The struggle. How much of gardening for me is a visual joy? With that gone...

I end up pondering the state of my spirit if I was to lose my vision. Would I become deflated and bitter? What would happen to those things for which I have a passion?

My students come to school as I would enter blind to a garden... every right to be bitter. Paper and pen... words and numbers... these things make school a hard place filled with failures. It is my job more than any other to show them the joy that can happen in a classroom. Sometimes I can do this, with their help.

If I become blind, I hope to remember to find those who bring joy into my life. So now I imagine entering my garden blind, but I am not lost and alone for I am guided by my friends, family, and one hip black Lab.

the shoulder contiinues to speak to me

1. gone, but not forgotten, is the irrational, in no way based in reality, fears the shoulder spoke and the best I heard ... "I've got rare incurable shoulder cancer, way to go with ignoring pain for years Bud."
2. on hearing the results... "sure the x-rays show nothing but I'm not going to stop hurting you quite yet Bud."
3. after the first OT appointment... "Yeah, Mindful Guy. I really can't move much in that direction."
4. after I did the exercises for 4 days... "I feel stronger. I feel more flexible, But don't even think about pushing me too hard. Feel the pain Bud."
5. after talking to a friend who expressed concern... "Quit whining and think about how she has Lupus. Keep exercising me and pray for her health."
6. it gives thanks... "blessed are jobs that allow you to have insurance and 60 days of OT, blessed are those who train to help others heal, blessed are you Bud for believing in the power of healing."

Before I saw the doctor I was on my back praying and I heard a voice, (mine, my shoulder's, My God's). Who knows which, but what it said to me was simple... "you can heal." I have carried those words with me ever since.

As for shoulder cancer, it may exist but I saw no need to fuel the fear by searching, but it has been my great excuse around the house. say something goofy to Mosaic Woman... "The shoulder cancer has spread to my brain."

Her response last night was priceless... "Quit being the Goof-ass who cried wolf."