Friday, April 1, 2011
I had the distinct honor and pleasure of making the guest book for my friend Diane's wedding (this past Saturday). She kept the guest book at our wedding in 1990 and all these years later, her joyful celebration was incredible and extremely well-deserved. Can't say my joints have recovered after hitting the dance floor though it was well worth the energy expended.
Spring. Transition... a time for new life and considering that, in spite of the state of the world, most of us are blessed beyond belief. The birds are singing and it's sunny... albeit 40 degrees all week here. In two days we leave for Rosemary Beach, Florida, and will stay in an fabulous private residence club, thanks to Jeff Rogers, my dear friend, photographer and publisher (visit his site and take a look at his gorgeous coffee table books), and his lovely wife, Missy.
We wake up in the morning but how often to we give thanks for that simplest of wonders. During this Lenten season, I've gone into my own wilderness to root out (even more of:) the broken places inside me that distance me from God. Living with a chronic illness has engendered a deeply implanted sense of gratitude. But while we are intact and going about our days, how often is a state of amazed Grace rising up like a fountain in our spirit?
The passing of two friends has shocked me - and my husband, Jim; both were 52 and died suddenly. Jim's friend, Lloyd, suffered a massive heart attack. They were camping and fishing buddies and our sons were in school and scouts together. The visitation was a reunion of sorts, the way most are since we're seldom able to reach out to those who have or do touch our lives, remain friends in our hearts and memories, live a short distance away, but are ensconced in hectic lives. Sigh. They have a memorial camping trip planned and I know Lloyd will be with them.
Deb Gilchrist, with whom I've been in two art groups with for years, was also 52. A brief battle with the flu and she was gone. I went to her blog and in her last post, dated February 28th, she spoke about the moon, connectedness and opening our hearts to let the pain from old wounds flow through us and dissolve. I was stunned when I read her words about not feeling that she belonged here, because, while I don't generally believe in coincidence, I can't help but wonder about her openness and the timing...
Following is an excerpt from Deb's last post. I wish all of you love, grace, gratitude and blessings.
In the wee hours, the full moon shone bright and beautiful in clear skies, beckoning us to stop for a time and honor the deeper parts of ourselves.
I've spent a lifetime feeling a connection to, or in my earliest memories, at least an awareness of something beyond what I could see or touch... alternating with the feeling of not quite belonging here. From an early age, I knew such feelings were not the accepted norm and so I learned to keep them to myself. I also understand that I'm not alone in this lifetime of knowing. But I've never considered it in this context.
According to Ms. Trinkaus, this full moon in Leo is urging us to open our hearts to all of our painful wounds – to acknowledge and allow this pain to flow through us, thereby dissolving the wounds of (perceived) separation. Cracking our hearts wide open...
Our Native ancestors called this the Hunger Moon, because it is the full moon of deep winter, when everything is frozen and dormant. Food sources were scarce for our ancestors.
On a very basic level, separation from the source of their existence.
Hunger Moon. Seems a fitting metaphor for this moon, as well.
Rumi said, "The wound is the place where the Light enters you." Let it be so.
I highly recommend visiting her blog and viewing the lantern ceremony video at the end of her post. Beautiful, haunting, compelling. Peace.