Tuesday, June 30, 2015

A Covenant: Myself and You And Every Living Creature

The writing demons have been dancing in my mind, begging to be let loose, to share the meandering thoughts, the demanding need to express, to type into this editor — yet this blog has gone unfilled. Some of it may be that I've been constantly working, or that my inner self is working through puzzles: figuring out replies to darker pulls—the skeletal mother with the freshly cut bloody stump of an arm begging in India, the parentless, yet joyful children of unescapeable poverty in Africa, the overwhelming pollution of China and India, the begging gypsy children with the frightening enforcer in Macedonia, the stories of those I know reporting of unspeakable acts of violence and war both foreign and in our own cities, the former husband with the uncontrollable, unexpected, violent anger, the loss of my foundation—my best friends—my parents; resolving grief, loneliness, and exhaustion with the falling in love with the people of this world—me with so little to give in return and the inexplicable contrasting beauty of this journeying planet; intuiting perhaps a gentler path to let those drift and dissolve like clouds on a sunny day or see through them like the illusional rainbows on hot summer pavement.

Pollution New Delhi, India
Laundry South African townships
My rock, my mom - how one so comforting could have left in such pain?
But today I write, albeit briefly, for this past week has been one of astounding and unexpected celebration. It's as if God said, you can take a break, take a breath, let the work and worry fall away, put down the heavy grief, appreciate those who've made a difference and those that continue the course of good; those biological and the soul sisters and brothers, the children, cousins, nieces, nephews and those who have preceded us.

Put aside your worries and weights and simply b---r--e--a--t--h--e  in happiness.

Expand the space between your lungs, your mind, your heart.

As a former Catholic continually wrestling with the beauty and the darkness of her birth faith - and one with an unshakable faith in God and God's presence in each and every one of us (regardless of our final destination after this life) one of my mind-blowing favorite stories, dating back from my youth, is from the very start of the old Testament. It comes after the flood of Noah:
"And this', God said, 'is the sign of the covenant which I now make between myself and you and every living creature with you for all ages to come:
I now set my bow in the clouds and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth. When I gather the clouds over the earth and the bow appears in the clouds, I shall recall the covenant between myself and you and every living creature, in a word all living things, and never again will the waters become a flood to destroy all living things."
And amazingly enough tonight, after a soul searching weekend at Image and Voices of Hope (http://ivoh.org/reflections-takeaways-from-2015-ivoh-summit/  - more later) and a week where my daughter returned to Vermont after eight years away and finding a job in her field within three days, the same "bow" arches behind our home - a position I've never seen before. My heart truly aches with gratitude and joy for the gifts life has given to me. The world and life upon it will continue. From the clouds we can take rest—from this point we can continue the difficult and joy filled journey.
Home and my daughter

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