Keeping the Dream

I light this candle for a thankful heart
an overflowing heart
and for all the blessings and inspiration to have one

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I light this candle for Megan Meier
whose life ended way too soon…
May there be healing of broken hearts
lessons learned and new choices…
for those who can make them

(To light your candle click on the icon)

I light this candle for my sister
and her beautiful son.

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I light this candle for the Elders, for warm hearts and healthy bodies and people to truly call family.

(To light your candle click on the icon)

On my birthday week, I want to talk about death. Somehow it seems fitting. Not because I’m depressed, but because I am encouraged and feel stronger within myself than in my youth.

My growing fine lines, the appearance of more white hair and whiter white hair, the change of the texture of my skin and the slowing of my metabolism do not trigger a panicked desire to run in the opposite direction. That happened over a decade ago for a couple of years. I’ve moved to a place where I feel the desire to stand with my feet planted firm in the ground and look at what awaits me straight in the eye.

Ronni Bennett, one of my all time favorite bloggers, made an awesome post not too long ago entitled “On the Advent of Our Death“. My approaching birthday at the beginning of the 2nd “half a century” of my life makes me contemplate this reality, that seems to move closer to me with each passing year.

She writes,

Ageism. However wrong it is, however much individual pain and debilitating consequences result from it and how many people are harmed is, to a degree, about fear of death.

She includes a number of quotes about death down through the ages from the book, “Light on Aging and Dying” by Helen Nearing.

I was not only thrilled to find out about this book, but the author’s life was simply inspirational. She was a fascinating woman who left an incredible legacy along with her husband, Scott. Perhaps, when you live a life as rich as this, you are less afraid…perhaps not. I don’t know.

I do know we do associate death with aging, but really, death doesn’t discriminate like people. It has no preference for old age, like we have no respect for it. Far too many children become well acquainted with Death, embraced in it’s arms through the courtesy of starvation and indifference.

And Death is a gracious guest. Whenever invited by human cruelty, Death will enter and take a life, take a dream, take someone’s last hope. There’s the death of esteem or self worth. There’s the death a child experiences when abuse descends upon her innocence just as sure as any Grim Reaper.

But Death isn’t a solitary, for wherever Death goes, Life goes too. Like the inhale to the exhale, Life emerges from Death like the Phoenix from the Ashes or the Pegasus from the Medusa. Just because the living can’t follow the dead, doesn’t mean there’s no place to go, and just because the spirit lays crushed under snow, doesn’t mean the ice won’t crack in the spring.

I like the Zen philosophy about death, as a continuum and as a teacher. Being mindful of it is a great humbler of pride and the foolishness that follows.

How many bad choices have I made in my life because I thought I had all the time in the world? Perhaps wisdom is the beginning of realizing we don’t. But for now, I will not fear the closer proximity to Death as I grow in years, because measuring time is an illusion, anyway. This could be my last post or one of thousands more. I don’t know. And neither do you.

What I do know is that for whatever reason, I don’t feel alone, and I don’t mind if among the angels, Death is one of them.

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Book referenced in this post:

I just found the most wonderful article about Halloween from a refreshingly insightful Christian perspective; Halloween: the Christians second most important holiday. Not only did I enjoy reading the article but the comments were wonderful…especially, this one, by the author commenting on the comments, regarding what would Jesus do on Halloween.

I think Jesus would start with five Mars bars and two gummy worms and end up filling the bags of 5,000 children.

His delightful writing style and attitude makes me want to read more and look into what he believes and why. Oh, if more people could share their faith in the same way, what a different world we’d live in.

I set the alarm this morning at 5 A.M. to catch the meteor showers. I was too late or else the trees on the “mountain” I live on blocked the view. What I did see, though, was the most magnificent starry sky I have seen since I lived in New Mexico.

For some reason, the stars seemed closer and clearer. And Venus, which can be extremely big in the sky was absolutely huge.

How many early morning hours have I stared out the back sliding door of my adolescence and young adulthood, not able to sleep just yet, looking at this planet of love to give me permission to rest? And how long ago, (could it really be decades, since I was a little girl living in that desert?) was it that I used to lay on my back waiting for the first of many star like diamonds to appear?

But last night, was such a night. There were no clouds, no humidity. The air was sharp and cold, and it even smelled cleaned. And there they were, so many stars to fill a soul with wonder, to remind a person there is more to life than our day to day concerns and fears.

The woman who told me about the meteor showers, said she was going to ask her neighbors to turn off their back porch lights before going to bed. Light pollution deprives the perception to behold such wonders.

The stars never went anywhere. The night sky is just as glorious as it was in my childhood, and generations of childhoods. But I have not seen it like this in years.

And I have to wonder, how much of our own pollution prevents us from seeing the heavens. Not just the ones above us with their celestial orbits through space, but the ones within us. How much of our spiritual sight is barred from perceiving the divine, because of our fears, our doubts and resentments or just our apathy?

Do we even bother to look up anymore? Do we think there will be nothing there to see?

You know, I never really understood why God had to rest after creating the world, or how God could possibly be tired. But I like the story of God resting on the 7th day.

I’ve grown to a deeper appreciation for what it means to rest than just a day off. Most of us don’t rest on our days off anyway. They’re just periods of time when we feel compelled to shove more stuff into the little space we’re given - errands to run, activities to do or the intake of passive electronic stimuli, television.

Resting is about restoring, but it’s more than just shoring up depleted energy. That’s one meaning, and is really significant for us humans, and one of which I’m more mindful of these days. But rest, also, is a state of sitting still. It’s being in the present moment.

I don’t know what this means for God, but I do know what significance it has for me, as I sit here on my porch on this fall day.

In this restful moment, I hear a blackbird cawing from a nearby tree. Not far away a songbird sings an entirely different melody. My morning glories are looking at me, their big green heart-shaped leaves trembling ever so slightly with the subtle breezes. In between the needled and broad green of pine and maple, I see puffs of clouds, gently glide across the face of the sky. The leaves have not turned yet. Not in my yard, but they are thinking about it.

I move too fast. We all do.

The other day I took my dog for a walk, and we passed by under a tree. As we walked into its shade, I stopped and wondered how I must look to it. Reaching out to touch a limb, I got a sense of almost amusement. I couldn’t help but wonder how we humans appeared to the tree, if we appeared as those busy little gnats that buzz about so fast, that if they don’t get gobbled up by some bird, would, in all likelihood, burn out.

If I had not taken this moment on this day to just sit here on my porch, and drink my tea, I would have missed all this, the subtleties of the day. Hurrying from house to car, my mind would already be far down the dirt lane before I even backed my car out of its parking space.

It’s good to take an appointed time for rest. Every moment we stop and be still, is a sabbath moment. Which reminds me of another Bible verse that I like, “Be still and know that I am God.”

That’s what makes the sabbath holy. Not the day on the calendar, but the manner in which we approach and experience creation. Any moment can be our 7th day, when we still ourselves long enough to recognize the holiness of it.

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