The part about the neighbor who reported you on Nextdoor bringing over homegrown tomatoes actually made me laugh. It really is just about finding the gold in the cracks right now. Left foot, right foot, breathe. Thanks for this.
OH! How VERY beautifully-wonderfull you are, O Daughter of Life! Yes... for now... you believe you are not whole, not holy, something's not quite Right with ... your View...with What You Read and Hear and See and so "Know"....but.... let's Think Again! Perhaps evil is the Illusion some Teachings teach...perhaps the Earth is actually Round, after all... the Sun never sets, the train tracks never "meet," the water on the road ahead is a mirage... our lives actually DO go onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...
though "belief" sees death as The End, when it is merely Change....Graduation... Leveling-Up... Transformation...even Ressurection.....................
Can we choose Joy wherever we are? Is this not our Divine Right?
What a challenge to develop a posturing of gratefulness. I love this: "Maybe our definition of holy and whole have to change. The early morning is holy. Holy is the warmth of the grocer or grandchild, or a bowl of homegrown tomatoes from the neighbor who once reported you on Nextdoor. I’m whole, -ish, older, slower, with a few dings." I am learning to live this. Thank you, Anne.
Two dearly beloveds will soon be making an international move. Thankfully one has dual citizenship with the country to which they are relocating; fleeing antisemitism and other horrors. I was just telling them a few minutes ago that I bought a scallop necklace like one worn by pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago to remind me that all of life is a walk, a pilgrim way. And from what I am able to gather from other pilgrims is that the basic lessons of the Camino are:
Notice things. Pay attention to what the Camino is teaching you. It may not be what you thought you were seeking.
Learn to see the divine image in everyone.
Help other pilgrims to the extent that you are able.
The “triumph of light over darkness” is so important. Mr. Rogers wrote that when viewing a tragedy on TV or in the papers, his mother used to remind him to “look for the helpers.” There are always people doing good. The light is always there, be it others or a how we treat ourselves, our neighbors, and strangers. Anne, your writing has always been a light for me. Thank you.
Holiness: "It is around us, above us, below us, and inside us all the time. It’s here, but often I am not.” Dang right. My husband makes little altars everywhere, too.
My ritual is making songs for the Sea, for her birds and my fellow wanderers. Here’s a new one, “Learning to Love,” substituting Love for Holy:
I’m here, I’m here for Love, I’m here, I’m here to Love,
And to free myself from Fear, So I can be Right Here--
And really feel that Love, Love, Love - I’m here to feel that Love, Love Love.
Beautiful! I love the reminder of taking a deep breath and opening our hearts to let in the sacred moments right before us. Sometimes those sacred moments are the way the light reflects off of the spilled cup of tea I just dumped onto the counter… Sometimes it looks like the hummingbird outside my window who paused to sit on a branch and rest. Right now it seems the full-time work for each of us is just to savor as many of these sacred moments as possible. Thank you for your lovely words 🦋
There's a grief with no clear object, and it's the hardest kind to name.
You're not mourning a person or a specific loss but some version of the world you thought you were living in. That's what this moment keeps producing, and most of our language hasn't caught up to it.
"Entire ways of life." Two words doing the work of a whole paragraph.
"Hallelujah" sits somewhere between happiness and despair in your writing. In the crack between them, actually. Which might be the only honest place left to stand.
The broken world is still the world where grace showed up.
The part about the neighbor who reported you on Nextdoor bringing over homegrown tomatoes actually made me laugh. It really is just about finding the gold in the cracks right now. Left foot, right foot, breathe. Thanks for this.
OH! How VERY beautifully-wonderfull you are, O Daughter of Life! Yes... for now... you believe you are not whole, not holy, something's not quite Right with ... your View...with What You Read and Hear and See and so "Know"....but.... let's Think Again! Perhaps evil is the Illusion some Teachings teach...perhaps the Earth is actually Round, after all... the Sun never sets, the train tracks never "meet," the water on the road ahead is a mirage... our lives actually DO go onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn...
though "belief" sees death as The End, when it is merely Change....Graduation... Leveling-Up... Transformation...even Ressurection.....................
Can we choose Joy wherever we are? Is this not our Divine Right?
What happens if we do?
Hmmmmmm??
Joy is what happens whenever we choose it! (It doesn’t typically land on me like a holy radiant halo from above. Just sayin)
Broken bread can fix a broken world!
What a challenge to develop a posturing of gratefulness. I love this: "Maybe our definition of holy and whole have to change. The early morning is holy. Holy is the warmth of the grocer or grandchild, or a bowl of homegrown tomatoes from the neighbor who once reported you on Nextdoor. I’m whole, -ish, older, slower, with a few dings." I am learning to live this. Thank you, Anne.
Right now in our crazy upside down depressing sick world- this piece just knocked me in the gut and took me out of Saturday’s funk
Two dearly beloveds will soon be making an international move. Thankfully one has dual citizenship with the country to which they are relocating; fleeing antisemitism and other horrors. I was just telling them a few minutes ago that I bought a scallop necklace like one worn by pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago to remind me that all of life is a walk, a pilgrim way. And from what I am able to gather from other pilgrims is that the basic lessons of the Camino are:
Notice things. Pay attention to what the Camino is teaching you. It may not be what you thought you were seeking.
Learn to see the divine image in everyone.
Help other pilgrims to the extent that you are able.
Buen Camino, peregrinos.
I’m wearing a scallop necklace, but I’ve never walked the Camino or heard of this. How lovely. Seeing the divine in you, Michele
Thank you, Christine! So kind! I learned a lot about the Camino from a movie with Martin Sheen and his son Emilio Estevez. https://youtu.be/o5VZKWcgw6c?si=FfzguwOGktoKWEck
Your writings give me such hope. The gold of your words go far to restore those who read them! Thank you, Anne!
hallelujah!!!!
The “triumph of light over darkness” is so important. Mr. Rogers wrote that when viewing a tragedy on TV or in the papers, his mother used to remind him to “look for the helpers.” There are always people doing good. The light is always there, be it others or a how we treat ourselves, our neighbors, and strangers. Anne, your writing has always been a light for me. Thank you.
I’m going to go place some altars now. What a wonderful way to make it through. They might be little nightlights in the dark.
I love this, and am a little sad we still need, and will always need, these reminders.
I hear you Katya - and - what if we are here to be these holy reminders for each other?
Oh my. Thank you, Anne.
❤️🩹❤️🩹❤️🩹
Holiness: "It is around us, above us, below us, and inside us all the time. It’s here, but often I am not.” Dang right. My husband makes little altars everywhere, too.
My ritual is making songs for the Sea, for her birds and my fellow wanderers. Here’s a new one, “Learning to Love,” substituting Love for Holy:
I’m here, I’m here for Love, I’m here, I’m here to Love,
And to free myself from Fear, So I can be Right Here--
And really feel that Love, Love, Love - I’m here to feel that Love, Love Love.
Thank you, Anne for being HERE, and being you.
Beautiful! I love the reminder of taking a deep breath and opening our hearts to let in the sacred moments right before us. Sometimes those sacred moments are the way the light reflects off of the spilled cup of tea I just dumped onto the counter… Sometimes it looks like the hummingbird outside my window who paused to sit on a branch and rest. Right now it seems the full-time work for each of us is just to savor as many of these sacred moments as possible. Thank you for your lovely words 🦋
Savoring alongside you, Erica!
There's a grief with no clear object, and it's the hardest kind to name.
You're not mourning a person or a specific loss but some version of the world you thought you were living in. That's what this moment keeps producing, and most of our language hasn't caught up to it.
"Entire ways of life." Two words doing the work of a whole paragraph.
"Hallelujah" sits somewhere between happiness and despair in your writing. In the crack between them, actually. Which might be the only honest place left to stand.
The broken world is still the world where grace showed up.
Yes, Derek! Here we are, singing in the cracks