<html><head><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"></head><body style="overflow-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;">Thank you Paul, Isobel, Jim and Judi! <div><br></div><div>Karen<br id="lineBreakAtBeginningOfMessage"><div><br><blockquote type="cite"><div>On Sep 5, 2024, at 2:50 PM, PAUL SCHRIJNEN via OE <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div style="overflow-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; line-break: after-white-space;"><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">A few weeks ago, Christine and I drove from London to France for a holiday with our kids and grandkids. On the way the two of us stopped in Chartres for a night – a place to rest and to see the cathedral, as we have done before. <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It was a long drive with lots of traffic, and I was tired when we got there. We unpacked our things and late in the afternoon walked to the Cathedral. We found that we were among many visitors in this ancient place. We walked around, sat for a while to look at and listen to a small group doing a wedding rehearsal. It was a fine, ordinary visit. But my tiredness seemed bigger than the building around me. We left the cathedral and found a place to eat. <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">The next morning, we got up early and went again to the cathedral. This time we went in just when the doors were unlocked. We were, in essence, on our own in the cathedral. <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I walked into that large, empty nave, entering a great, inviting silence, encountering an overwhelming light, a beauty of colour, a luminous space. My heart opened and flowed over, my breathing changed, my shoulders relaxed, my pace slowed. I walked around, almost in a daze.<o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Later I pondered, was this the same place I saw the day before when I wasn’t moved at all? <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It seems like that more often than I wish. I walk around most of the time with a sequestered heart, pre-occupied, stuck in my own agenda, or weaving my way around the agendas of so many others, guarded, trying to impress another, or maybe just tired of one thing or another, certainly locked in myself - in Isabel Bishops’ words, invisible to the extraordinary, amazingness of others. The mystery, depth and greatness in people around me out of sight.<o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">It can be like that, also at work, or when visiting a friend, or when observing the endeavour of a colleague. My sequestered heart, insensitive, biased, blind, filled with judgment of one kind or another. My brain not really listening, but producing words, I instantly regret the sound of. It seems that this judging of others is accompanied by a judging of self and circumstance in a vicious cycle.<o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I have noticed that too when I read my emails or look at messages on this list serve. Often, I read and delete. Rinse. Repeat. <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Oh, how fragile my disposition. How I live most the time disconnected from self and others. Charles Hahn sang: How firm is my foundation. Mine seems too often out of reach. <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Then, this morning, suddenly the graciousness and love of Isobel’s words wake me up, the curiosity of Jim’s questions, the intellectual congruence and wisdom of Marilyn and JWM, and then I see words of gratitude in yet another message by Judi about Winkie, and on and on and on. The heart opens, overflows, and mystery, depth and greatness of humans seem all around. <o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">I do leadership workshops and coach people. How do I enter the space of those conversations with an open heart, sensitive to the unique reality in front of me? Or when a family member, neighbour or friend shows up? How do I rest well enough, breath slowly enough, am aware enough of the miracle of the life in front of me? How do I enter those moments like I enter an empty, life giving space of Chartres Cathedral?<o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">How do I wake up, time and time again?<o:p></o:p></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><br></div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;">Paul</div><div style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></div><div><br><blockquote type="cite"><div>On 5 Sep 2024, at 04:01, Isobel and Jim via OE <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:</div><br class="Apple-interchange-newline"><div><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><div dir="auto">Yes indeed,Jim- a tribute to Winkie Chelsey- <div> our lives were touched so many times by unexpected gifts in extraordinary human beings - they may have appeared ‘ordinary’ and yet to us , they were amazing and extraordinary. <div>What rich, grounded and awe filled lives we have been given ! </div><div>Salutations from the South land. </div><div>Grace and peace and with love, </div><div>Isobel <br><div><br id="lineBreakAtBeginningOfSignature"><div dir="ltr">Isobel Bishop<div>Mob. 0412 129 425</div></div><div dir="ltr"><br><blockquote type="cite">On 5 Sep 2024, at 2:08 AM, James Wiegel via OE <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:<br><br></blockquote></div><blockquote type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8">I did not know this person, Judi. My what a broad array of fine human beings we have had the honor to connect with.<br id="lineBreakAtBeginningOfSignature"><div dir="ltr"><span style="font-size: 13pt;">Jim Wiegel</span><br><div><p class="p1"><span class="s1" style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">“We are all time travelers journeying into the future. But let us make that future a place we want to visit. “ </span><span style="font-size: 13pt; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Stephen Hawking</span></p></div></div><div dir="ltr"><br><blockquote type="cite">On Sep 4, 2024, at 6:36 AM, Judi White via OE <oe@lists.wedgeblade.net> wrote:<br><br></blockquote></div><blockquote type="cite"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="auto">Ijust yesterday, I became aware of the passing of Winkie Chesley, Guardian of the ICA from Area New York, from Wilton CT. She passed on February 28th in her assisted living home in Fairfield, CT. Her son, Bill, said this was unexpected. The last time we talked, around Valentine's Day, she said all she wanted to do was sleep. Each time I called after that, the phone rang with no answer. Winkie was host to many colleagues on their fundraising and event recruiting treks. She supported the New York House with her breath of fresh air presence bringing her famous seven bean soup, or suits for permeators, or pitching in on set up and serving, and so much more. She holds a seat of honor on my meditative council as guide tgrough a dark night into the light of self-confidence to begin a new path. She introduced me to the labyrinth as a sacred ritual, and as an essential element in church and community renewal. Gee, she loved us all so much, i am sure her compassion lives on in the hearts of those who continue on this unshakable journey. Grieve Peacefully, Judi</div>
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