This dance in the Universe of Sun and Earth is a beautiful metaphor for light gradually returning to us after dark times or dark nights of the soul to which the mystics referred.
Light also returns through shared story. So here's the contest.....
In the comment section below share something about a time in your life that was dark and
how you experienced light beginning to return. The winner will be chosen with the help of my favorite "judge Judy" my seven-something neighbor who hasn't a judgmental bone in her body and coined the phrase "Life is good" long before it was made commercially popular. Judy inspires me and she delights in being inspired.
PRIZE: Since locally owned businesses are lights in our cities and communities, the winner will receive a $30 gift certificate from his/her favorite locally owned business/artist. (Ex. Parnassus books, Le Quire Gallery, Grimey's records,Urban Oasis, the Turnip Truck, Tin Angel not Walmart, Whole Foods.) If you live outside Nashville, I'll contact the business you select and get the gift certificate to you.
Lastly to up your chances of winning in case Judy has a hard time deciding, share how the local gift certificate is connected to the light's return for you.
Here's an example that occurred to me as I thought of lights return in a personal dark time.
Last year prior to major surgery I created a game plan for taking care of myself pre and post surgery. I covered all the bases regarding my physical, emotional, spiritual and psychological health. Even still I was depleted and powerless for some time. Most days all I could do was lie on the sofa. The insurance statement that soon arrived in the mail confirmed what I suspected. I was given two dozen drugs during the procedure's span. Daily I lay on my sofa looking at the little Japanese maple lit by sun's light each day. Now I realized, it held light for me when I couldn't find my own light. Eventually I called a friend and asked if she and her two daughters would drive me to Las Paletas for a popsicle. In pouring rain, she loaded me up along with her children. A creamy rose petal popsicle with this family was also light for me. I'd like to win (though I can't) a gift certificate to a local nursery or Las Paleta's.
If for some reason, you can't post a comment below email me your story and I'll post it on the site. Include "Solstice Contest" in your subject line and here's to the Light.
-Dawn, The Good News Muse at Imagine the Shift
7 comments:
Moment of Ascension
Empty echoes of piercing pain
in the cave of the heart
bounce in and out of the light
of a single flame
that bends toward
desire,
victim of the fickle wind,
and hope,
and the dream of
fire.
This is the silent pain the lonely carry.
We don’t cry out.
We don’t whine.
We put the candle in a plastic baggie for later,
and we carry it
in heavy backpacks
and keep hiking into deep valleys.
My boots are worn as I take the trail alone again,
moving through long years of living without a mate.
Binoculars poised at the ready,
I listen for the sound of wings,
search the sky for movement
and the edge of the pond for stillness.
I want to see the Blue Heron and know the momentary kinship
of another tall, contemplative, solitary being.
To connect in sacred sadness and whisper,
“We fly solo, don’t we?”
As longing flows from heart to eyes to face.
But today is different.
The sun spoke to me today
And nothing will ever be the same.
I heard the message clearly, felt it move through my body.
And so today
As the heron landed in rippled grace on the pond,
Beams of joy landed in my soul
and instead of whispering to my friend I shouted happily,
“You are never alone.” You are married to the pond that embraces your toothpick legs,
the wind moves you in a symbiotic relationship of wing and air,
the trees burnished orange and gold are breath and home,
While the Sun brushes your feathers with golden sky.
I see how your wings carry me.
I feel my heart blessing you.
Moment of ascension manifested in
brilliant blue wing and sparkling sun.
And in this sun-drunk flash of awareness I am no longer
Admirer of nature’s beauty.
I am Lover.
And in this sun-drunk flash of awareness
I can feel the earth dancing with the moon
and
relationship is all around and inside me.
I roll out of the backpack,
kiss the flame of my candlle,
Lie down with the trail.
Valley rolls over and becomes Mountain.
You fold your wings. I bow my head.
We pray.
Lj Ratliff
This year brought forth a decision that I was surprised to make. To leave a marriage only recently entered. It was a brave thing to do and probably the loudest scorn I faced was my own. But through it all, I knew to keep moving, keep moving to the light of my Truth.
I am grateful for the return of the full-service independent bookstore, Parnassus. That is a light to me as an author and a reader.
Thank you, Dawn! You are right, our local independent businesses are our city lights and without them we fall into vanilla-dom and worse. I love the "not Wal-mart!" He-he. Love you.
On a trip to Crete years ago with feminist theologian Carol Christ, there was one day when we experienced the extremes of light and dark. We went from the top of a mountain to the depths of a pitch-black cave, and back out to the light again. It was amazing! Happy Solstice to you!
From Marthe Cumming via email...My friend said I needed a cat and she had the perfect little feline for me. I said, “No, I don’t need a cat.” My friend said the little cat needed a good home and that this young female would be just right for me. “No,” I said, “I don’t want a pet.” My friend said that this kitten was a sweet cat, a gray “Tuxedo” with a white tummy and feet, friendly, socialized, and she would be a great pet for me. Once again I said, “No, no cat for me, it’s too much responsibility!”
And then some darkness came into my life. I had worried over my health for some years and finally it became clear to me that I would need surgery. I was terrified. I was afraid of what might be found. I was afraid that I wouldn’t wake up. I was afraid of the pain if I did wake up. I was frightened of being incapacitated and unable to care for myself. I was terrified.
My friend said, “You need this cat.” And I said, “OK, if I survive the surgery, I’ll take the cat!”
I survived. I took the cat. And she brought such light into my life. She was the “Vanna White” of the feline world, so regal in her gray and white tuxedo. She was my assistant editor on the neighborhood newsletter, keeping me in good humor. She was a jumper and a fearless hunter of small creatures both inside the house and out. She was a good sleeper at the foot of my bed in the winter. She was my boon companion. She opened my heart to joy, and, when she had to leave me, to sorrow, too. But I am not sorry I said yes to her -- and to the light that she brought with her into my life.
From Tim Ashby via email....My darkest time is when I lost someone I loved dearly and the light returned shining when I learned how to deal with my grief in time:)
From an email from Ricki Baer:
Days were darkest during my late twenties, when my health was failing .. my kidneys were shutting down, no longer able to filter through my body's unwanted materials. Not only did kidneys slow, but not being properly cleaned, other organs did as well. And that means my brain....thoughts came more slowy. But amazingly, as this slowing process took place, my perception of life was growing. No longer distracted by endless activities and inner and outer chatter, and losing any conscious sense of control, communion with not only the world, but the moments grew. The awareness that it was not "I' who was breathing; rather, my body was being breathed by something larger than my personality. It was awsome to recognize this, and it delivered a great sense of security. It actually felt like a larger of myself was handling things.
I had months to exist in this reality. The world grew dark and far away. Then one day my sister came to me and said that not only did she want to give me her kidney, but that hers was a perfect match! I really couldn't believe it! My sweet sister, who was married and had two boys, told me that she did not want any more children, but she DID want to give ME life ... and that I must never worry or feel indebted. This was something she wanted with all her heart. Though incredibly excited about the prospect of returning vitality, I now wondered what this larger aspect of myself would do. I tried to trust that what was supposed to happen, would...there wasn't energy for much else.
On the day of our transplant, our family gathered round. Mom had dressed us in matching gowns, it was very special. I don't remember much except the blast off! Being rolled down the hall together, holding hands ... not knowing if I'd wake up afterwards or not! Well, the doctors said that our match was truly miraculous, for the minute our tissues touched, blood flowed powerfully ... and that wasn't all!
Afterwards, I awakened, gradually realizing that my bed was beside a window. When I looked out, though a tree was in fornt of my eyes, it was hard to recognize its form because of all the colors running up and down the bark ... amazing colors everywhere. In fact, it was hard to discern the physical form of anything, but beautiful colors were pulsating, flowing in and through all things and creatures. Gradually this perception faded, but it left an awareness that our world is alive, every inch of it ... and it's all one fabric. Not only did my sister grant me the opportunity for a renewed life, but also the opportunity to recognize the fact that we are all one, living, breathing, pulsating together. This recognition has left me only momentarily ... and actually, too often. But my commitment is to embrace and share this gift ...
and I'm thankful to be able to do so in your contest Dawn!!
When being administered a drug in the hospital I had a severe allergic reaction. I went into anaphalactic shock. As my body rejected the medicine, I just kind of faded out and my family standing around me in the room became blurry and distant and then there was darkness. Next thing I knew, bright hospital light flooded my awareness fast and furious like a tsunami wave and I beheld the lovely, upside down face of a nurse. She was behind me fiddling with tubes and doing who knows what all. One thing that she did so sweetly and constantly was engage me in conversation, anchoring me back in the light with her motherly kindness. As chaos unfolded around me with panicked family members and bustling medical professionals, I only had eyes for her. And I only had ears for her cute German accent. My brief journey into the dark had stripped me of my burdensome self-concern for my sickness. In that moment, I only wanted to know about her, so curious I was to know where she was from and what brought her to that city at that moment in time. It was lovely to be be back in the light, liberated if only briefly from self importance.
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