
I’m struck this week by the moon. By its brightness and constancy. By the power it has to move oceans. By the ways it pulls at them, and us, in ways we often don’t notice, even when its light becomes a sliver and our nights are so dark we can’t make out the shape of our own hands.
And I’m struck by the sweetness and the strength that I’ve been gaining through conversations with people about Japan. Even in our fear and our restlessness and all the ways the events there and elsewhere, too – sometimes inside our own homes or circles of family and friends – make us feel small and vulnerable and aware of how little we can know about what tomorrow holds, let alone whether we have the inner or outer resources to deal with such things well: these connections have made a real difference in the courage and hope I’ve been able to find. They’ve given me more patience with my restlessness and more motivation to offer what strength and trust I do have for the strengthening and en-courage-ment of others.
So I’m thinking today about how connected we all are, and how our words and actions and demeanors – whether within our own homes, or in public or online spaces – both for good and sometimes ill, are like the moon’s light. And the sun’s, for that matter! They pull and shine on all of us. They have the power to do great harm, but also to heal and nourish and light the way of all.
I’m particularly struck by this as I go about my mundane tasks: preparing food, dressing and bathing children, interacting with store clerks, talking with folks at the park. I do these things, and I follow my heart and hands in this online space, and am amazed and a little wobbly-kneed and teary eyed by the thought that my life, my vulnerable, tenuous, minuscule existence is a moon and a sun. Is a light that is made bright by all of yours and that pulls on and is pulled by the suns and moons that all of you are.
Thank you for the ways that you’ve strengthened me this week. Thank you for the ways you’ve showed love to people around you and courage when you’ve had courage to give. Thank you for doing what you can to live peace, and grow trust, and learn a thing about love.
And if you’re gasping for peace and trust right now, may the moons around you pull you quickly and safely back to shore…whether they or you know that’s what they’re doing or not.
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Moon In My Body, by Cyprian Consiglio, from his album Compassionate and Wise
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Everything Belongs
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Your posts have been a bright light in my week. Thank YOU for everything you share here!
Comment by Liz C. — March 19, 2011 @ 2:16 pmThanks, Liz. My deep pleasure!
Comment by Kristin — March 19, 2011 @ 5:28 pmSo inspiring… thank you! :]
Comment by April Cole — March 19, 2011 @ 8:12 pmSo glad to inspire, April! Thanks for being here.
Comment by Kristin — March 19, 2011 @ 9:41 pmThis quite lovely, such an important reflection and reminder for all of us. What we do with and how we live our lives is truly a constant push and pull, a wonderful and soulful twist and turn of ordinary life. Thank you for reminding me.
Comment by Christine @ Coffees & Commutes — March 20, 2011 @ 9:19 amChristine, I so agree: ordinary life feels different for me when viewed this way.
Comment by Kristin — March 20, 2011 @ 12:23 pmThis is my favorite verse. I totally agree about interconnection. The ripples are endless, and whatever conflicts, ultimately beautiful.
Comment by Julie — March 23, 2011 @ 7:23 pmThanks, Julie. Yes, endless indeed!
Comment by Kristin — March 23, 2011 @ 8:37 pm