Caravan

August 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

Join the caravan of those who have turned their faces to the light.

I had a bit of a revelation yesterday when I was walking past City Hall with dear L.

Government Center is uglier than not on its worst days, with its cement overhang and the drab, geometric rim of its office towers. But the sun has a way of dignifying things — even brutalist concrete building faces.

These days have been surpassingly lovely. I scroll through my iPhone gallery and it’s all lens-flare and dusky diffused light. Yesterday, as we shared lunch on the Esplanade, a fog descended over the river and there was a gale of dewdrops and sunlight. It turned the riverbank into a prism and the picnic blanket (thrown around our shoulders to shield us) into cape-like wings. I read somewhere recently that sunshower is a word somewhat unique to our region.

sunshower

On our way back to our cars, the sun shone bright again, painting the rooftops and steeples and making the sidewalks glimmer. Even Government Center became a beautiful arena filled with gold and warm shadows. I grabbed L’s arm and cried a bit, right there on Cambridge Street, because it was too beautiful and it came upon me in a wave that we only have so many moments here in the sunlight. Our time here is finite. If I were prescient, I could count the hours left to me.

With that thought, I was overcome with a profound gratitude for my time and place in the sun – for the warmth and glow and hush and perfume and abundance of it. So thankful for the kindred spirit beside me, for those who make me revel in the moments we are given together.

I wonder how I can ever overlook these graces. They are the pulse of life. They move our caravan along.

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Anniversaries.

May 5, 2013 § Leave a comment

I could mark the night we met,
but what did I know then
of how you would take root in my heart?
What do I know now
of the seasons we will make together?

We are forever meeting anew.

I mark, instead, the night before,
which (despite the shifts in our seasons
and the variety of flowers this love produces)
remains in this:
it was the last night I fell asleep
without you on my mind.

Wishes for the good traveler.

April 29, 2013 § 2 Comments

For a venturing soul I love very dearly,
and all the others who journey alongside.

If each day is a step within
a journey, long and true:
Then, as you go,
good traveler,
I wish these things for you:

A wishing well at every stop,
at every stall and stay,
to hold your cheer,
to stave despair
and parchedness away.

A precipice to venture up;
a trail to test your mettle;
a thousand thorns
to make you strong
and flowers to make you gentle.

A vision of your noblest self
to haunt your dreamer’s heart,
that you might strive,
against the throng,
to set yourself apart.

And outlooks grand to ground you –
that, from a bright plateau,
you recognize
how far you’ve come,
how far you yet can go.

May birdsong bless your wanderings
through desert, fjord, and vale;
may every path
deliver you
to welcome and a tale.

May Earth on her round table spread,
in her abundant manner,
all vibrant, rare
and wholesome fare:
nectar, spice, and manna.

I hope each day above your head
God paints a splendid sky;
a backdrop brave
to vivify
your worn and searching eye.

May sunlight bathe and kiss your skin
and trumpet you along;
and when the stars
bedeck the sky,
may you imbibe their song.

And if, in some uncertain hour,
a tremor fills your soul–
a darkened shroud
puts confidence
and calm past your control,

I hope you find your faith in God;
that, pouring from above,
you feel the peace
that emanates
from His enduring love.

And as around this world you weave
a web of your goodwill,
I hope you find
yourself enmeshed
in something worthier still;

That your untiring spirit draws
dear friends to share your burden;
and a happy step
in sync with yours –
Love’s sweet grace and guerdon.

So kindle hope within your heart,
its pure, undying ember.
Do right, fear not.
Be chivalrous.
And if you can, remember:

If you will reach, wherever you are,
as our two paths unfold,
my well is deep
enough for two;
my hand is yours to hold.

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A Question of Fate

April 17, 2013 § Leave a comment

She prayed for a sign: she said,
“Be explicit with me, Heaven.
White flowers if for hope,
red flowers for a stop.”

But she wandered off the path that day
wherever she glimpsed
snowdrops or daisies
or lilies of the valley;

and she veered away
from the strange veiled women
who wandered the streets
surprising passers-by
by handing them red roses.

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On loss.

March 22, 2013 § Leave a comment

This night has emptied the world
of everything, save the shadows
and the glinting reflected light
of the falling snow.
Save the sound my footfalls
and my thoughts of you.

You all had such courage
such vision and such drive.

I had only a heart that ached
in all the incommunicable lives I lived within me,

and I had you
and that was enough.
You filled a world and made it home.

2012

December 31, 2012 § Leave a comment

It’s strange to remember the quiet desperation I felt at the beginning of this year, as I pledged to myself to live with intention but prepared for a job that dampened my sense of agency and ambition.

Looking back over the last twelve months, I see an education in grace. What began in a place of fear and doubtfulness closes in a happy place of hope and direction. And that transition began when I let go of doubt and embraced faith and possibility instead.

This is the lesson I learned: to find the way where grace abounds, you commit yourself to something bigger than yourself, then you move towards light. I had to leave my job because it made me feel dark inside. It was enough for me to be free to sit in the sunlight, dreaming up schemes and praying for direction.  I felt unmoored when I quit, but I also felt back behind my helm.

And this is how grace works. Because I had quit two weeks before, I was free to travel when Mama booked an unexpected trip to the Philippines. I was also on hand when my first job asked for me back again – a job which let me keep other opportunities open, let me explore. And so on and so on all this year went.

I am humbled and grateful when I trace the web of moments and meetings that led me to here, where I’m poised to begin something that fills me with a sense of purpose and vocation. The way was marked with little signs. A shooting star after someone crossed my mind, or a clover near a bench side. A friend who reminded me of the worlds beyond my world. A stranger with a wishing lamp. I’ve stopped looking for flashing lights from Heaven, but have learned to rely on its little winks and nudges.

So chase the light, be on the watch for it. Gather it up and, piece by piece, let it illuminate the way. It comes in countless forms, but unfailingly it settles in you with a warmth that assuages doubtfulness. It is fearsome to behold sometimes but you know it by its gentleness — it never does any other any harm.

Seeing as this is where it’s led me, I’ll be that much more on the lookout in the time ahead. Happy Old Year! And Happy New.

Lessons from dream-makers.

November 29, 2012 § Leave a comment

I did it.acceptance

I would say that it feels like I’m dreaming, but I’ve already done the dreaming part and I’m ready to live in it now.

This is a thank you to all those who believed in my dream even as I doubted it. And a special thank you to two friends who pushed me to keep my inspiration in front of me at all times.

I’m learning slowly that this is the purpose of dreams: to launch us into the midst of what is possible, to bring us to a place where the doubt of the endeavor is gone.  But we have to allow ourselves to dwell in that place of possibility, to believe in the validity of our hopes and endeavor as though already sure of the outcome. When we suddenly find ourselves in a situation we’ve dreamed about we should say, “this feels like real life.” Not the other way around.

Keep your dreams before your eyes.

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