Dawn is coming…… I step quietly from my bed, alive to the silences around me. This is the quiet time, the time of innocence and soft thoughts, the childhood of the day. Now is the moment when I must pause and lift my heart – now, before the day fragments and my consciousness shatters into a thousand pieces. For this is the moment when the senses are most alive, when a thought, a touch, a piece of music can shape the spirit and color of the day. But if I am not careful – if I rise, frantic, from my bed, full of small concerns – the mystical flow of the imagination at rest will be broken, the past and the future will rush in to claim my mind, and I will be swept up into life’s petty details and myriad obligations. Gone will be the openness that comes only to the waking heart, and with it, the chance to focus the spirit and consecrate the day.
May this day begin with quiet time – time allowing for ‘ the openness that comes only to the waking heart’.
Quote: Kent Nerburn, Small Grace: The Quiet Gifts of Everyday life
Photo: David Kanigan
You have looked at so many doors with longing, wondering if your life lay on the other side.
For today, choose the door that opens to the inside.
Travel the most ancient way of all: the path that leads you to the center of your life.
No map but the one you make yourself.
No provision but what you already carry and the grace that comes to those who walk the pilgrim’s way.
Speak this blessing as you set out and watch how your rhythm slows, the cadence of the road drawing you into the pace that is your own.
Eat when hungry. Rest when tired. Listen to your dreaming. Welcome detours as doors deeper in.
Pray for protection. Ask for the guidance you need. Offer gladness for the gifts that come and then let them go.
Do not expect to return by the same road. Home is always by another way and you will know it not by the light that waits for you but by the star that blazes inside you telling you where you are is holy and you are welcome here.
The season of Advent means there is something on the horizon the likes of which we have never seen before.
It is not possible to keep it from coming, because it will. That’s just how Advent works. What is possible is to not see it, to miss it, to turn just as it brushes past you. And you begin to grasp what it was you missed, like Moses in the cleft of the rock, watching God’s hindquarters fade in the distance.
So stay. Sit. Linger. Tarry. Ponder. Wait. Behold. Wonder.
There will be time enough for running. For rushing. For worrying. For pushing.