Author Archives: Catherine Ann Lombard

Rocky’s Prayer

Day of the DeadThis weekend, many Italians are traveling to village cemeteries to pay homage to their ancestors. The Catholic feast of All Saints Day on November 1st is a national holiday followed by All Soul’s Day. It is a time for the living to ritually remember the dead – both saint and sinner alike. In preparation, the (mostly older) women are scrubbing tombstones clean and buying votive candles and pots of chrysanthemums to decorate the graves of loved ones. Coinciding with the beginning of darker days and longer nights, this time allows us to pause and consider our own life and death.

fave-in-fiore

Fava bean flowers

The two days devoted to honoring the dead correspond agriculturally to when Umbrian farmers seed their fields. They are also busy burying onion bulbs and garlic cloves with the hope of enjoying sweet shoots in the spring. There is a local saying among our neighbors that All Saint’s Day marks the planting of fava beans. In fact, eating fava beans was once thought to be a way to be in communion with the dead. The bean flower is white with black markings that take the form of the Greek letter thet or θ, which is the first letter of thanatos, meaning ‘death’.

Last year’s giorno dei morti, I decided to walk the two kilometers into town to attend the morning mass. On the way, Rocky, my neighbor’s dog, decided to follow me. Despite my shooing and yelling “A casa! (Go home!)”, Rocky stuck by my side. Exasperated, at one point I threw stones (not at the poor creature, but in the vicinity and only to emphasize my point), but to no avail. Rocky dashed away, up and around a ploughed field, only to return to my side with a broad grin and wagging tail.

Rocky

Rocky

I soon gave up and we journeyed together into our village. I figured once we arrived, Rocky would just wait outside the church, become bored and go quietly home. But he had other ideas! Rocky trotted right behind me into church and took a seat at my feet. I was mortified! In our Umbrian village, dogs are dogs and people are people. Half the men are hunters and have teams of dogs, locked in cages all week, only to emerge half-crazed with pent-up frustration for a morning hunt. Dogs do not enter people’s homes, never mind the Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary!

Scooping Rocky into my arms, I promptly carried him outside. “He’s not mine. He’s not mine.” I meekly defended myself to all the heads turned our way.

But as I turned to go back inside, Rocky was right behind me! The mass had started and Don Stefano was in the midst of the opening prayer. Again, I made my apologies and lugged Rocky back outside. The church was starting to fill up. Attendance was higher than usual because of the families that were visiting for the holy day of remembrance.

A casa Rocky! A casa!” I futilely commanded once we were outside, pointing in the direction of his home. “A casa!” Before I realized, Dario, one of the local men who hunts, brutally gave Rocky two hard kicks on his side. The dog whined and bolted down the street. Hoping that he would now go home, I went back inside. But Rocky, bless his soul, soon returned. He once more entered the church, found me among the crowd, and took his seat at my feet.Angel of Grief-Emelyn_Story_Tomba_(Cimitero_Acattolico_Roma)To my surprise, people were starting to whisper, “Leave him. Let him stay.” And then Don Stefano stopped in the middle of the mass and said: “Look at this povera bestia (poor beast). He has tried three times to enter the church and come to mass. He is a good example for all of us. How many people refuse to enter the church? How many people stand outside or stay home and watch football? Let the dog stay as an example to us all.”

The service continued and Rocky lay still. All the while, I was busy with how we might make our escape. By the time the homily rolled around, I had my plan. Knowing that Rocky would follow me up to the altar when I went for holy communion, I figured that I would go last and then turn and lead him out the door. Perfect!

The time came and I waited to be the last to receive communion. Sure enough, Rocky was right behind me, tag wagging down the aisle for communion! But when I turned around, I saw that, to my horror, the church was packed. Worshipers were standing three-deep and blocking the one and only exit. Approaching the door, I wondered what to do. Meanwhile, Rocky had not followed me, but had quietly returned to our pew! I had no choice but to follow and join him until the end of the service.

After the mass, people were laughing and teasing me. “You tried to escape right after communion, but Rocky knew better! He knew to wait until the end of the mass before leaving.” There was no arguing with this. Rocky did know better.

Suddenly I realized that it was not just a coincidence that Rocky had followed me to church that day (something that he had never done before and has never done since). I realized with wonder that Rocky had come to pray for all the animal souls. Since 1970, we humans have killed 60% of the world’s animal populations, 83% of all mammals. Everyday 200 species go extinct. Somebody needs to acknowledge this profound loss in prayer. And who better than a fellow animal creature like our beautiful Rocky?

species-extinction-animals-4-728

Assagioli’s Thoughts on Animal Wisdom

More than 45 years ago, Assagioli recognized our need to draw on Saint Francis’ inspiration to cultivate “harmonious relations with the environment.” He believed that our love should not be “limited to the members of the human family,” but be an all-inclusive embrace of “all living things in the animal and vegetable kingdom of nature.” Assagioli also acknowledged our vital spiritual dependence on the animals with whom we share this Earth, when he wrote in 1913:

 

“Science refuses to let go of the presumption that only humans are ‘wise.’ By humbly lowering ourselves and asking those inferior beings, we might understand the obscure message coming from the human soul. We might more easily raise the grand veil of mystery by another small margin.”

st-philip-neri-and-his-dog

Saint Philip Neri and his dog.

Isabelle Bagdasarianz Küng, a student of Assagioli’s and pioneer teacher of psychosynthesis, recounted a story about her time when she was staying with the Assagiolis in Florence. Every day (except Sundays) at noon, Roberto and Nella Assagioli, together with Ida Palombi and anyone else present would gather in his studio for meditation. Isabelle remembered how the maid’s dog would often sneak into the study precisely at this hour. Upon entry, the dog would take its place between the sofa and desk.

Nella would often chase the dog out, but, like Rocky, it would refuse to leave, scratching the closed door and demanding to be let in. And like Rocky, the creature was eventually allowed to stay.

During the meditation, the dog would never make a move – not even twitch its ears. Isabelle recalls that Assagioli would jokingly say, “You see, the animal kingdom feels the attraction of the spiritual dimension.”

 


Many thanks to Isabelle Bagdasarianz Küng for letting me share this story.

P.S. Click here to celebrate the saints who loved animals.

CatholicSaints2

Just a few of the 10,000+ Catholic saints.

Coffee Grinds Everywhere

While living in Ireland in 1998, Catherine was surprised to find herself one summer working as a waitress in a little café in the popular destination town of Kinvara. Nestled in a crook of Galway Bay in the West of Ireland, Kinvara is a place of megalithic tombs, holy wells, a 14th century castle, ancient cairns, Irish music, and weekly set-dancing. Out of her experience, Catherine wrote the book “God is in Rosaleen’s Restaurant.” This blog comes from her book.

3

Artwork by Roseleen Tanham, http://kava.ie/rosaleen-tanham/

“How do you like your steak?” I’d ask.

As a vegetarian for more than twenty years, I found this question ludicrous. I like my steak on the cow where it belongs. Most people like theirs well-done.

Every job always has something that’s hard to swallow.

Jennys spiral

Back home in the US waitresses fear chefs. There is a tension between them that literally can become palatable. I remember a friend telling me how she dreaded returning anything to the kitchen, especially after the chef threw a potato at her.

At Rosaleen’s Restaurant, however, comradeship existed between us. Any tensions disappeared as we focused together in the preparation of steak, lamb, fish, and vegetable. At times, three of us fluttered around a single serving: the chef, pouring sauce and garnishing the plate, her assistant placing doilies on dishes and slicing bread, and me waiting to whisk the plate to the customer so to deliver the meal hot.

This shared longing to serve our best was perhaps what the customer tasted most.

Tea cup

Continue reading

Free and Wild Creatures Abound

Readers of A Free and Wild Creature have been sending me photos of themselves with my book. You too can become an Official Free and Wild Creature! It’s very easy, just send me a photo of yourself with the book or post your Official Free and Wild Creature photo to the Love And Will Facebook page. Here’s a few to inspire you…

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Thank you everyone!

Under the Napkin Tent

While living in Ireland in 1998, Catherine was surprised to find herself one summer working as a waitress in a little café in the popular destination town of Kinvara. Nestled in a crook of Galway Bay in the West of Ireland, Kinvara is a place of megalithic tombs, holy wells, a 14th century castle, ancient cairns, Irish music, and weekly set-dancing. Out of her experience, Catherine wrote the book “God is in Rosaleen’s Restaurant.” This blog comes from her book.

12

Artwork by Roseleen Tanham, http://kava.ie/rosaleen-tanham/

I found it curious who ate what and how much. The Burren lamb bones gnawed clean of meat. The barbecued chicken wings, once garnished on a bed of lettuce, reduced to tiny sticks. Baked cod picked apart and left under a napkin tent.

Was it the food, its taste and appearance, that mattered or the hunger, its degree and duration? Was it the conversation shared or the person listening? When we are given the food of life, what and how much do we eat?

Jennys spiral

Continue reading

Where lemons are sliced thin…

While living in Ireland in 1998, Catherine was surprised to find herself one summer working as a waitress in a little café in the popular destination town of Kinvara. Nestled in a crook of Galway Bay in the West of Ireland, Kinvara is a place of megalithic tombs, holy wells, a 14th century castle, ancient cairns, Irish music, and weekly set-dancing. Out of her experience, Catherine wrote the book “God is in Rosaleen’s Restaurant.” This blog comes from her book.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Artwork by Roseleen Tanham, owner of Roseleen’s Restaurant (http://kava.ie/rosaleen-tanham/)

I realised the first day that my challenge was to stay centered. During the five-hour shift I found myself scattered between Table 3 wanting more bread; the blinds needing to be pulled; the empty roll of toilet paper in the ladies’ room; Table 6’s demand for a receipt; and the three hungry people who just walked through the door.

Where was I? How quickly I no longer existed, no longer felt my own thirst and tired feet.

Jennys spiral Continue reading

God likes small places…

Line Drawing of Restaurant by Jenny Beale

Roseleen’s Restaurant’s entrance, by Jenny Beale

Twenty years ago I published God is in Roseleen’s Restaurant, a small book of reflective meditations about my time working as a waitress in Ireland. Can two decades go by just like that? Twenty years ago I was 44 years old, living in a round wooden house in Kinvara, a small village on the West Coast of Ireland. I had just met and fallen in love with my Dutch husband. We would marry in May the next year and have our wedding feast at Roseleen’s.

When I got the job as a waitress, I was an unemployed technical writer with little knowledge of either psychosynthesis or Assagioli. But (as always) I was searching… Continue reading

Imagine All the Healing

Finally I was able to let go of fear and found courage and trust. Marije Smits

“Finally I was able to let go of fear and found courage and trust.” (Marije Smits)

When Susan arrived for her first counseling session, I was struck by her almost fairy-like beauty. With dark hair, creamy fair skin, and crystal green eyes, she reminded me of Snow White. At the time of our meeting, Susan was a 28-year-old PhD student studying philosophy and ethics. Not long before, she had discovered a mole while taking a shower. Susan had been going to tanning salons since she was 20. By the time she was 23, she was addicted to looking and feeling “sun-kissed”. By then she was working at the tanning salon to help pay for her own treatments. For nearly two years, she was tanning every other day.

The mole turned out to be diagnosed as malignant melanoma, the deadliest form of skin cancer. “I didn’t even know what ‘melanoma’ meant,” she admitted to me. “When I found out the results, I was all alone at home and started to panic. I thought I was going to die.”

Continue reading