The year it snowed
three feet in April
we had to dig
pretty deep
to find the
invincible summer
that people like
to talk about;
but eventually we
did find it, and it
happened when we
laid down on the
towering snow banks
and they began to
melt as the heat
from our bodies
turned them into
pools of liquid light.
Photo by smilla4 Flickr (CC BY-NC 2.0)
To some these days are known as Imbolc – the mid-point between the solstice & the equinox. Always makes me think of mid-points in journeys – time to reassess our resources & replenish what is needed. This poem by Galway Kinnell reminds me of how much we need to remember our own loveliness so we can continue and blossom.
‘The bud
stands for all things,
even those things that don’t flower,
for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;
though sometimes it is necessary
to reteach a thing its loveliness,
to put a hand on its brow
of the flower
and retell it in words and in touch
it is lovely
until it flowers again from within, of self-blessing.’~Oriah Mountain Dreamer
Today – the mid-point between winter solstice and the spring equinox – feels like the space before the beginning. Maybe like the ten minutes before a race starts, while milling around still in warm-up…
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It is three weeks into the month of December and across much of the continental United States it feels like winter has arrived in full. The solstice – the official turn of the season – was yesterday: the end and the beginning. Those of a Christian faith continue to wait in hopeful expectation for the promise of light to arrive on Christmas as another season of advent progresses. The sun continues to rise and set in an ancient rhythm. Undertones of anger and injustice remain alive and well in too many places. Living creatures die at the hands of other living creatures, for reasons that are as wide ranging as the stars even as they mirror patterns that have repeated for generations. Traffic moves across the globe, we continue to consume, and our footprints seem to go deeper by the day. Yet I hold onto expectations and hope that something better will reveal itself in a way that can be recognized.
Professor Debra Dean Murphy writes,
“Waiting” works if you live in a world where you know that a little more patience generally would do you good. “Hopeful expectation” has a pleasant enough sound if your life is going reasonably well at the moment.
[….]
What does “hopeful expectation” sound like, look like in places where justice has long been delayed, meaning, of course, that justice has been denied?
Hope is not wishful thinking; it is risk and action and the courage to undertake both.
But …… it is also vulnerability and a willingness to walk alongside those whose hopes have been crushed.
You might say it’s as bad as it ever was.
You’d be right.
You might say things have really taken a turn for the worse.
You’d be right, too.
You might say the world is a scary place, and we all better do everything we can to protect ourselves.
You’d still be right.
You might say it’s a beautiful time to be alive.
You’d be right.
You might say things aren’t easy, but light still shines in the midst of shadows.
You’d be right, too.
You might say the world is a place where peace has the power to manifest in ways that we can only imagine on our best days.
You’d still be right.
Remember the power that moves through thought. Your reality is what you make it. Look through the illusions, past the projected pain and around the fear that plagues what we are presented. Have compassion for those who suffer, but keep your energy to do the real work. Remember that you’ll always be right.
