Lucy and Shabbat

art by sulamith wulfing

St. Lucy greeted me this morning as only she can—with surprise, delight and light. Today she brings discovery of the light of Shabbat. (The Hebrew word that is the basis for Sabbath and sabbatical.) Not being Jewish myself, I was delighted to discover it is a woman's mitzvah to light the Shabbat candles. In other words, it is a woman's privilege to bring "good" into the world through light. I love this! I, as a woman, can bring light into the world as no other can.

There is something very holy, sacred and sensuous as I think of candles and light, springtime and growth. With spring, the days are getting lighter; the ground is awakening and making space for new life to push forward to the surface. There is newness in the air. The soul is awakening from the darkness of winter.

Images of water (often associated with creation and passion) and patterns of new breath and rhythm continue to appear in both my dreams and waking hours. My journey for now seems to include the questions: Where is God calling me as I approach this new spring? How will I breathe new life and spread my light in the days to come? How will my creativity and passion express themselves? All exciting possibilities to consider. What new candles are you being called to light?

Hurricane

Current life events led me to turn to last February’s journal. I am both sobered and hopeful at where the seasons of life continue to lead.

New soil. Springtime ready to grow, but there is nothing in the current ground of my heart. It is empty. What little green sprouts will choose to grow there—weeds or beautiful wild flowers? It feels so desolate right now. A hurricane has come through and decimated the land. There is trash and death all along the shore. The birds and wildlife have not returned. Desolation on the beach—the same beautiful, glorious beach that held sparkling diamonds only moments before.

When will life return? What will the resurrection look like? Even those small words feel hopeful for now. I know I cannot rush springtime. Growth and restoration take time and great care. Who will care for me in this time of grieving?
--February 27, 2006

Shimmer (Dance of the Dolphins III)

Shimmering water beckons woman to a new dance.
Sister of Eve heeds the call.
Whole and embodied, her spirit is home.
Dormant no more below earth’s surface, passion ignites.
Breath’s rhythm shifts.
Born of joy-tilled ground and watered with tears of sorrow,
Golden light embraces her womanly body. And thus,
She,too, shimmers. She glows. She dances.

Kindness

The road to freedom and kindness is long and hard, but it is well worth the journey!

photo by bill hughlett

Kindness

by Naomi Shihab Nye,
Words Under the Words

Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
What you held in your hand,
what you counted and carefully saved,
all this must go so you know
how desolate the landscape can be
between the regions of kindness.
How you ride and ride
thinking the bus will never stop,
the passengers eating maize and chicken
will stare out the window forever.

Before you learn the tender gravity of kindness,
you must travel where the Indian in a white poncho
lies dead by the side of the road.
You must see how this could be you,
how he too was someone
who journeyed through the night with plans
and the simple breath that kept him alive.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.

Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to mail letters and purchase bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

Dance of the Dolphins - Part II

"dancing dolphins"

One of the most delightful aspects of dolphins is their call to playfulness and dance. Both aspects are a part of life too easily forgotten amidst busyness and productivity. As I remember laughing with the dolphins weaving across the bow of Georgia J and wonder where I am being called today, the following poem speaks loudly of my dreams.

The God who only knows four words

Every child has known God,
Not the God of names,
Not the God of don'ts,
Not the God who ever does Anything weird,
But the God who knows only 4 words.
And keeps repeating them, saying,
"Come dance with Me, come dance."
--Rafiz

I am that child, and with the dolphins as my reminder, I dance.