I clutter my home with love. Well, things really. But they are icons of love – hard to let go of and yet…it is time to simplify. It is time “to small” my life. Small should be a verb.
“The psychotic drowns in the same waters in which the mystic swims with delight.” Joseph Campbell
At the height of the firing, the fire will reach 10 feet into the air and will burst 5 inches out the sides of the kiln in any cracks. It is violent. It is primordial. It is frightening to watch. Dangerous to handle. It is the process. Violence and then, beauty and usefulness.
We call God by the sounds of a breath because of the mystery and gratitude humans have had for breath. One need not live too long before figuring out that without breath life ends. Even Christians call the Holy Spirit “The Breath (or wind) of God.”
The people who love us, like the God who loves us, are our water, our sunlight and our soil. Plenty in our lives will die; and those deaths, large and small, will fertilize the earth in which we are planted; giving our roots a foothold in flood and wind.
As I age, I am beginning to realize that all I need to do is to take the next step. What makes it the “right” next step? It is the next one. The one that is available to me. The one which the cosmos seems to have placed below my foot just before it landed.
Letters can be the sacred texts of our own lives
What if we all left Holy Week filled not only with Hot Cross Buns, Lamb with Mint Sauce and hair smelling of smoke but also with tenderness?