During the past couple nights, I’ve woken to dreams that have held so many fragments of memories. This morning I looked up the expression about “life flashing before my eyes” because the dreams have felt a little like that, just not really flashing, more like logically being unveiled. Here’s what the search said: “A life review is a phenomenon widely reported as occurring during near-death experiences, in which a person rapidly sees much or the totality of their life history.” (No worries, I’m not freaked out.)
What intrigues me most is that the flashes have not been from what I would call the big moments, rather the very humble and routine.
My son Paul included in the benediction this morning, “… May God’s face shine upon you as the sun has been shining on us…”
“…when we open we find that You were there all along…” —Meister Eckhart
A warm encounter,
a Christ balm of cosmic light,
invites us to Love.
There were a few images that happened as I was working on the breathing meditation exercise last week, and this one seems to partner well with what was in my inbox this morning.
“For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one.” —Khalil Gibran
“Death and life are two sides of the same coin… Yes, I am saying that ‘the way things work’ and Christ are one and the same. … It is a train ride already in motion. The tracks are visible everywhere.” —Richard Rohr
“In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.”
“It is in the depths of life that we find you / at the heart of this moment / at the centre of our soul / deep in the earth and its eternal stirrings. / You are the ground of all being / the Well-Spring of time / Womb of the earth / the Seed-Force of stars. / And so at the opening of this day / we wait / not for blessings from afar / but for you / the very Soil of our soul / the early Freshness of morning / the first Breath of day.” ~John Philip Newell, Praying with the Earth
Yesterday during our Sacred Arts matins and vespers at the Grunewald Guild, we listened to stories of creativity in community, the idea of being light and thereby unleashing the power that kindles the light in others.
It brought to mind a time in a small group when we were lighting individual candles from a center flame. I noticed that when the unlit wick was close enough, the flame would “jump” across a chasm of space.
Rooting the creative within the contemplative …
That’s one way to describe the journaling I practice.
Crossing out the letter ‘s’ from the word ‘Rests’ on a different journal page led to this prescription… perhaps someone needs it today?
If you’ve stayed with me this long, I have one more thing to add. It’s inspired by the bittersweet words of my dear friend, Liz, who at 80 shared with my husband that she had “lost her hop.” She was describing the moment during a hike when it becomes necessary to leap from one place to another because an ordinary step won’t do.
As I scroll back up through my journaling images from this day, I look for clues. Is there a rainbow leap coming?