Dear Friends,
Light – dark – light-dark…light, light, light, daaaark – light – dark……
When they were young, my sons and I created our own response to the rhythms found while driving tree-shaded roads on sunny days. It was fun, and often challenging, to keep up with the pattern as it unfolded in real time; our voices chanting as the light quickly changed. Have you ever played with adding sound to the staccato of a drive’s light and dark experience? For me, it adds a feeling of aliveness to the moment. We not only see the “back and forth,” the “in and out” of the change around us, we become a part of it.
As I reflect on that memory, I wonder if I can add that engaged perspective to moments of change that surround me: my body feeling good one day and presented a debilitating shoulder ache the next, noisy construction in the neighborhood in the afternoon followed by the haunting quiet of night, a news story of human kindness after a report of violence or injustice. Day after day, hour after hour, life calls for adjustment – emotionally, physically, intellectually. I wonder, how am I doing?
Can I make a game of my experience as I did with my sons in the car? Or, is it possible that our “call and response” laid a seed in us for managing, even trusting, the inevitability of change? Going further, can I, in my maturing years, accept a slower rhythm in the movement of change? In the case of my body, for example, my heating-pad-enwrapped shoulder sings “ahhhhh” during this moment of comfort. Later, I expect, another sound may come out, but I am noticing the ease of this moment and it’s place in my relationship with my body.
Things will likely change, but if I’m able to just be in this moment of respite, instead of sitting on the edge of my chair, I am gifted with an awareness of presence. Some may call it prayer, or a contemplative moment, or grace. Continuing my prayer in the Land of Change, I offer Joseph Campbell’s wisdom,
“We must be willing to let go of the life we planned, so as to have the life that is waiting for us.”
Friends, I invite you to listen to this piece of music as you reflect on Campbell’s words. Click hear and breathe… I first heard “Gabriel’s Oboe,” written by Ennio Morricine, while praying the Ignatian Spiritual Exercises, I offer it to support you’re awareness of presence, prayer, contemplative moments or encounters with grace.
…And I thank you, once again, for allowing me to share my journey with you – with full and grateful awareness of your stories, journeys, hearts and hurts. Thank you for your willingness to be human as we sort out the paths before us. Thank you for being receptive as we open our hearts to Divine Presence. Blessings, dear friends, Lisa