The Pattern
Someone said to me recently that life from death is the pattern of the universe: day from night, spring from winter, hope from despair, wisdom from suffering, germination from the buried seed. We’re all of us somewhere on this cycle daily – either dying, or dead, or rising again. Though I’d rather do without the death parts of the equation, this idea gives me hope. It reframes the way I experience death in my life, and in the lives of those around me. It makes me feel more patient with it. More expectant, in the face of it, of dawn.
Here’s a piece by Kahlil Gibran that gives more form to this idea. The soldier in it represents many things for me: hope, the divided psyche or soul, the Christ, the Pattern. The name of the piece is “Peace”:
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The tempest calmed after bending the branches of the trees and leaning heavily upon the grain in the field. The stars appeared as broken remnants of the lightening, but now silence prevailed over all, as if Nature’s war had never been fought.
At that hour a young woman entered her chamber and knelt by her bed sobbing bitterly. Her heart flamed with agony but she could finally open her lips and say, “Oh Lord, bring him home safely to me. I have exhausted my tears and can offer no more, oh Lord, full of love and mercy. My patience is drained and calamity is seeking possession of my heart. Save him, oh Lord, from the iron paws of War; deliver him from such unmerciful Death, for he is weak, governed by the strong. Oh Lord, save my beloved, who is Thine own son, from the foe, who is thy foe. Keep him from the forced pathway to Death’s door; let him see me, or come and take me to him.”
Quietly a young man entered. His head was wrapped in bandage soaked with escaping life.
He approached her with a greeting of tears and laughter, then took her hand and placed against it his flaming lips. And with a voice which bespoke past sorrow, and joy of union, and uncertainty of her reaction, he said, “Fear me not, for I am the object of your plea. Be glad, for Peace has carried me back safely to you, and humanity has restored what greed essayed to take from us. Be not sad, but smile, my beloved. Do not express bewilderment, for Love has power that dispels Death; charm that conquers the enemy. I am your one. Think me not a specter emerging from the House of Death to visit your Home of Beauty.
“Do not be frightened, for I am now Truth, spared from swords and fire to reveal to the people the triumph of Love over War. I am Word uttering introduction to the play of happiness and peace.”
Then the young man became speechless and his tears spoke the language of the heart; and the angels of Joy hovered about that dwelling, and the two hearts restored the singleness which had been taken from them.
At dawn the two stood in the middle of the field, contemplating the beauty of Nature injured by the tempest. After a deep and comforting silence, the soldier looked to the east and said to his sweetheart, “Look at the Darkness, giving birth to the Sun.”
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I wish a blessing on all of you, dear readers, in the joy of the resurrections you’re experiencing, and in the darkness of your deaths. Be well.