Archives for the month of: March, 2019

In her Pocketful of Miracles meditation for March 21st Joan Borysenko commends the vernal equinox as an occasion to review the forces of light and darkness in our lives and to find the balance.

…how magnificent is the cycle of the seasons and the coming of the spring. As I awaken from my winter sleep, let me seek balance in my inner life and outer life.  Let me value equally the part of me that is healed and in the light and the difficult traits in my character that are grist for the mill of growth.

I know that for those confronting devastating floods and other crises, spring’s advent this year affords little opportunity for reflection. May they and all who support them and their animals find the resilience to persist and prevail.

For others of us the equinox provides the occasion to look at our inner climate and its weather, the gifts that shine brightly as well as the trolls of our shadow side. I find it relatively easy to embrace the light with much gratitude. My blessings are manifold. Dealing with my demons of the dark?  Not so much.  No doubt, the first step is to name them as grist for the mill of growth. Three come to mind for me.  What are some of yours?  Once identified, what do we do with them?

I have found an inspiring resource in The Book of Joy and highly commend it. A chronicle of conversations between the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the book also contains exercises for overcoming obstacles to living in joy. From two persons well acquainted with life’s dark sides perspective, faith and humor shine as beacons of hope for all of us seeking the balance.

 

Reflections on what lies ahead are natural for any stage of life. What possibilities will the future bring? What will my life be like? Will I be fully engaged or merely a visitor? What decisions can and will I make to affect the outcome?

These musings are especially true for those of us in our senior years. How do we continue to show up? How and where do we offer our gifts, knowing that diminishing capacities may have dulled their shine?

In 1992 Mary Oliver opined on the subject, inspiring us all with the map of her chosen route.  It was a path filled with curiosity, wonder and amazement.

…when death comes/ like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything / as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common / as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth / tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something / precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.