Advent I – the first mild light…

“Advent is the time of promise; it is not yet the time of fulfillment. We are still in the midst of everything and in the logical inexorability and relentlessness of destiny.… Space is still filled with the noise of destruction and annihilation, the shouts of self-assurance and arrogance, the weeping of despair and helplessness. But round about the horizon the eternal realities stand silent in their age-old longing. There shines on them already the first mild light of the radiant fulfillment to come. From afar sound the first notes as of pipes and voices, not yet discernable as a song or melody. It is all far off still, and only just announced and foretold. But it is happening, today.”


Quote: Alfred Delp, Advent of the Heart: Seasonal Sermons And Prison Writings 1941-1944
Image: David Kanigan

Once the door is opened

 

Admit that once you have got up
from your chair and opened the door,
once you have walked out into the clear air
toward that edge and taken the path up high
beyond the ordinary you have become
the privileged and the pilgrim,
the one who will tell the story
and the one, coming back
from the mountain
who helped to make it.

 


Doors — They begin an adventure. They end a long day.

Doors — They stand open to call us toward a time of growth. They slowly close to create a space for quiet when it’s time to gather and reflect.

Today, I sit at a door. Today, I welcome a new year… My 65th. It is a day to pause. I never imagined what it would be like to reach this birthday. As a person with a disability, it is a challenge to plan for the future because so many things can come up along the way. Yet, here I am at 65 – healthy, able to pursue my interests, and still full of curiosity.

There have been adventures leading to this birthday and there will be adventures following this birthday. I greet each like a new door, calling me to trust as I move over its threshold.

I celebrate this day with gratitude and look ahead with anticipation.


From Mameen in David Whyte: Essentials
Many Rivers Press © David Whyte

Never Give Up

Fragile as a spider’s web
Hanging in space
Between tall grasses,
It is torn again and again.
A passing dog
Or simply the wind can do it.
Several times a day
– gather myself together
And spin it again.
Spiders are patient weavers.
They never give up.
And who knows
What keeps them at it?
Hunger, no doubt,
And hope.


Quote: May Sarton, “Love” in “Poems between Women: Four Centuries of Love, Romantic Friendship, and Desire” complied by Emma Donoghue (Columbia University; January 1, 1997)

Photo by Bence Balla-Schottner on Unsplash

Quote from DK (Tumbler)

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