What is a modern vision as opposed to keeping the old vision alive, moldering in some forgotten corner? How long must we err on the side of caution before coming to a decision to look for new ways of singing a joyful song? Must the professional sinners of failed repentance complete their terms before dipping into the well of happiness?
God of Chance and Possibility, of Likelihood and Probability, of Come-What-May and Fate, who provides the ground for our very being and the place upon which we stand and choose; may we live into the choices we intend for our very lives as many perish along that way. Amen.
My dip into the well of happiness does not mean your dip will contain any less joy. Nor will the well be depleted. Dip away!
I said, "The conversation at last night's party showed happiness lives in the minds of the decadent few." She said, "Yes. It also revealed the desperate need to create possibilities for new pools of laughter." Thinking aloud, I said, "The beginning of wisdom is just a monster of a text to digest in one gathering." She replied, "Human beings have been gathering for hundreds of thousands of years in dark spaces." I added, "And feverishly painting animals on the walls of caves and cheering on their favorite teams." She said, "Hope only appears to narrow when those places are closed and decay into the ruin that time brings."
Creator of stones, who places before us life and death and asks us to choose life; with stones becoming metal shooting everywhere, even into the bodies of little ones playing in yards and learning in schools and sleeping in houses; perhaps as we live in this space between a rock and a hard place stones in the desert need to be turned into bread. Amen.
Between running for the sacred peace of a mourning dove cooing on the fence and the frantic cleaning and straightening in preparation for the arrival of strangers, the way forward blurs into rapid motion, into a newly awakened day where prayerful preparation can wait and, instead, the view from out the train window at the rushing cityscape and countryside gives way to the question, What do you see?
Between hope and sorrow found in spirituals played in minor keys dwells a note releasing the captives into a sweet place of freedom. The doe keeps her head down eating the sweet and desired delicacies from neighborhood flower beds while the owners sleep the sleep of the dead. A return to correct ways of living postponed by a prodigal display of fragile members demanding an accounting of the lost ages lives only in the dreams of beggars.
Don't need to buy into it. Just be fully engaged. Use it for the sake of the process.
"Well, alrighty then." - Sydney Marie Brotheridge b. December 28, 1995 d. June 9, 2018 Is the death of a daughter a fable or a myth Or a reality of grief that inflates one moment And then, after enough tears have dropped, Subsides into an uncomfortable calm Holding a picture with my arm Around her alive, smiling-faced body? Is the resting of my head on her shoulder Outside a skating rink during a birthday Celebration enough to protect her And, as often as I smile with her smile Or her smiling with my smile, can it happen All the time and everywhere? Is there enough time and can it be measured Between the first time I held this delicate child With a lifetime ahead of her and the last time I held her in Dar es Salaam as she breathed Her last breath perhaps hearing me whisper, “You are loved, Sydney Marie”? Is there a way to find a completely different Way with which to examine attachment To a life filled with enough demons of despair And with enough angels of shining brilliance, To find a way forward and not necessarily through Or over the abyss of deep hurt and great loss? Is the answer to the great question of Being Found in the act of a tiny body laid out On a stretcher being taken to the morgue Or in a ceremony at the foot of a mountain With enough gathered loved ones and friends Mourning a life joyfully lived and now complete?
Because. Because we have a protocol to follow. Because resistance grieves me. Because I don't want to participate. Because it is against my belief. Because my health does not allow me. Because someone is listening to us. Because the metaphor doesn't make sense. Because we are still walking the privilege walk. Because the root cause has not been found. Because the devotion of others has waned. Because power has not been shared. Because you shouldn't be in the loop. Because I don't have time. Because.