“This is the time to be slow, Lie low to the wall Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let The wire brush of doubt Scrape from your heart All sense of yourself And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous, Time will come good; And you will find your feet Again on fresh pastures of promise, Where the air will be kind And blushed with beginning.
I was writing in my journal yesterday afternoon, a soft Spring sun streaming through the window into the loft, four candles burning. I paused in my writing to watch the candles burn, and was stricken by the metaphor in front of me, four candles all burning brightly, within the constrictions of their containers, all so different, some new, and some near their extinguishing, but burn with their own unique flames they did. How like people, I thought. All with their own wondrous inner flame of life, and love, and expression in the world, and all burning brightly within the containers of their individual circumstance.
At times those flames are muted, at times blown sideways by the wind, at times straight and strong and unwavering. But still, they burn, we all burn with our inner flame. Our soul’s light, our spirit’s flame, an ardent constant of pure love. This we share with all humanity.
May we honor each of our unique, burning flames today, recognizing that we all endeavor to shine brightly, to share light, within the containers of our circumstances. Young, old, challenged, unwell, unemployed, overwhelmed, peaceful, adapting, unique, wondrous, majestic flames all. Let us acknowledge the sacredness of each flame, and let none be extinguished before their time.
“Now , I want only to give away all that I’m blessed to know and disappear in the stream.”
-Mark Nepo
Quarantine self care is a thing I’m allowing myself, gifting myself with, so before a long hot mid-afternoon bath, I picked up my novel, lit a candle, put in some “Tired Old Ass” bath salts – thanks Craig 🙂 – and lowered into my soak.
Except, I didn’t pick up my novel… By mistake, instead, I opened the book I had picked up, Mark Nepo’s Seven Thousand Ways to Listen, to the above passage.
One of those life moments of perfection happened… the words, the timing, the quiet to absorb them.
What is enough to leave as a legacy? What will say that I’ve been here, that my life mattered, that will endure?
Oh yes, to share everything that your heart and soul has been blessed to learn and simply enter the stream…
And to Love! To leave that imprint of how much, how deeply, I loved… how passionately, how fiercely, I loved the wild ones, the forest, the trees, all of nature’s majesty and mystery, the wonder of the moment, my family, my husband, my dog, and all those four legged that shared my life through the years, my forever friends, my nieces and nephews. SO much Love.
“Breathing in and breathing out the one breath of the Universe.”
-Hildegard of Bingen
Prayer indeed. While saying thank you, the most essential prayer.
Mark Nepo in his chapter “A Reality That Keeps Unfolding,” in Seven Thousand Ways to Listen, says of the breath of prayer:
“This is listening with our entire being. It speaks to an immersion of attention that all the traditions aspire to; each claiming in its own way that peace resides in this completeness which arises when our individual sense of being merges with the ongoing stream of being that is the heartbeat of the Universe. Whether these moments arise from great stillness or great suffering or great love, they all seem unexpected and seem to depend on our ability to hold nothing back.”
Timely words in these days of stillness, suffering and great love that we all are experiencing around our planet. Today, may you find this peace residing in completeness with the heartbeat of the Universe as you navigate your new normal.
What a perfect joy to have these lovely, moving, soothing words, this poetic offering, in my inbox this week – so unexpected and appreciated. Thank you Susan!
Notes on a Pandemic
“What stories shall we tell
past knotted fear:
Of touching without flesh
of Winter-seeded faith
of viral music trumpeting imagine all the people
of hands sounding gratitude
of words looped over metered space
threading a collective
of parked tyres, dusty tarmac
the exhaling earth
the constancy of sun
a pink crescent moon
the usual light on
all our faces”
-Susan Waters
(“Imagine all the people” credited to John Lennon by Susan Waters, author.)
I loved Susan’s words. “The constancy of sun”, as shown at sunrise here over newly fallen April snow. “The exhaling earth” as she prepares for Spring’s unfolding, the new soft snow blanketing her with the promise of fresh seeping water to nourish the roots of all that is pushing forth.
And when next I find a crescent moon, I will add it to this post…
