Great Beauty

I've always had this affection for Great Beauty as expressed through nature. I was raised by parents that loved beauty and respected nature and worked hard to not pollute it. And part of my "great affection" bordered on a romanticism which had it roots in the Enneagram Type 4 motivation point. I had longings and sighings and yearnings that Great Beauty in nature seemed to resonate with.

Then one day while reading a story of people finding the bones of a lost camper in one of the more beautiful spots in the world, I had a jarring (but obvious) thought. This Great Beauty of nature didn't care one iota about me. This Great Beauty would metaphorically stand there while I starved to death or thirsted to death or "injured" myself to death and would literally do nothing.

So much for Great Beauty (and all the sighings and longings and yearnings that it invokes).

Every vista of Great Beauty needs to have a sign that reads "Not To Be Messed With - I Might Be Beautiful But You Mean Nothing To Me"

More Than Enough

Father Keating says, "You don't have to win over God's love; you have more than you know what to do with."

So today (was it the old familiar neural pathways?) the metaphoric half empty cup looked mighty appealing. Maybe it was because yesterday, I told my Life Story to a friend. Maybe it was because I was waxing philosophical. Maybe it was because I was feeling fat.

But I reminded myself of what Father Keating said and told myself, "If you want, you don't have to nourish that little hard spot. If you want, you can say, 'Yes, I have more of God's love than I know what to do with.'"

 And I do.

And it feels like trying to stand erect against a very, very strong wind - everything in me wants to let go and be flattened.

But to tell the truth, I'm really getting pretty good at standing erect against my very strong winds.
(And I'm feeling quite adult-ish, thank you.)

The Pinch

So my dear friend of 10 years asks me when she will have peace and I tell her probably never. (I'm not a prophet - that was said more for the shock value than for it's veracity.) Instead, I pinch her arm real hard and I tell her, learn to live around the pinch - continue loving yourself and your God and your neighbor around the Pinch.

When I was pregnant with my first baby, to prepare us for contractions that come with an unmedicated birth, they told our partners to pinch us and not to let go even when we asked them to stop. (It didn't really prepare me for an unmedicated birth, but I remembered the pinch!)

Do I go around pinching all my friends? (Only friends that I've had for 10 or more years - just kidding). No. But my only point is (and the years have taught me) that many, many of us have Pinches in our lives that don't go away. Sometimes they do go away and that is called grace. And sometimes they go away with hard work and that is called grace. And when they don't go away, that is also called grace.

So we take grace in whatever form it comes, make peace with our "pinches" and go on.

Love and Light

"Oh, the flames they followed Joan of Arc
As she came riding through the dark.
No moon to keep her armor bright,
No man to get her through this dark and smoky night.

She said, 'I'm tired of war,
I want the kind of work I had before.
A wedding dress - or something white
To wear upon my swollen appetite.'

'Well, I'm glad to hear you talk this way.
I've watched you riding every day.
And there's something in Me that yearns to win
Such a cold, such a lonesome heroine.'

'And who are you?' she sternly spoke
to the One beneath the smoke.

'Why, I'm Fire', he replied,
And I love your solitude and I love your pride!'

'Well then, Fire make your body cold,
I''m going to give you mine to hold.'

And saying this she climbed inside to be his one, to be his only bride.

Then deep into his fiery heart
He took the dust of Joan of Arc
And high above all these wedding guests
He hung the ashes of her lovely wedding dress.

It was deep into his fiery heart
he took the dust of Joan of Arc,
And then she clearly understood
If He was Fire, oh, then she must be wood!

I saw her wince, I saw her cry;
I saw the glory in her eye.
Myself I long for love and light
But must it come so cruel, must it be so bright?"

by Leonard Cohen

There was a time when I would have read this and prayed for Love and Light. Not any more. I'll take it if it comes, if it is given, but I won't ask for it. As Jesus said, "You don't have a clue what you are asking for" (or something like that.)