On January 1, 2020, I awoke early and went outside to walk the length of my street in fresh snow as the dawn broke. I was glad that 2019 was done. It had been a difficult year for me as the only child of two very sick parents in a deeply fractured family. I made some significant and ultimately positive changes in my life that had created stress and upheaval in many ways. I often felt crushingly inadequate in meeting some of these challenges and I was navigating depression at a depth that I hadn’t experienced in a long time.

After my dawn walk, I wrote in my journal, “The New Dawn this morning was cold, but not frigid, and painted with a gentle dusting of snow that was peppered with the heart-shaped tracks of deer. May 2020 offer the clear sight its numbers seem to point toward.” …

Restoration

Clouds cruise above dark branches;
small, lacy mandalas
slowly come to meet you
and melt upon your tongue.

In the clearing, moonlight
is grace’s touch beneath
an open zenith of night sky
punctuated with stars.

Come home, kindle the fire,
brew fragrant tea, and pour it,
steaming, into your waiting cup
rest your feet, eyes closed: sip.

Deep within, you are borderless.
There are mysteries
not meant to be solved,
only felt, and received

in the gifts that
sing your being well.

*******************************************************

As 2020 draws to a close, many are almost afraid to hope for a better year. Interior restoration can be found regardless of the challenges of the world. Simply noticing beauty in the moment, or engaging in small acts of self-care are practices that help me to turn from despair and remind me of a wholeness that exists despite all the fracturing that has been so prevalent. …

In the snowless, winter woods
all but the hardiest green is gone.
It gathers at the ground,
the vibrant moss

around knuckled roots
of gray-brown trees,
lining crevices in old bark,
on the bodies of fallen comrades.

Here and there
it graces the air
shining gossamer
in high conifer branches.

Gratitude rises in me
for the blessing
of these green pines and firs
standing tall and slim

between bare and bony limbs
of maple, oak and hickory,
leaves long gone
to the earth.

You left your sandals behind for the short walk
To the well with your earthen pitcher,
Small billows of dust with every step

A song arose as you returned
Lovely whole notes; you sang,
Filling the wide dome of air around you

Water dampening the ground
The vessel, spilling over,
You are incandescent

With your heart song
You step over
The threshold’s pounded earth,

Pass into soft light within,
Set your pitcher on the table,
Turn toward the window,

Near the cool brown of the wall,
A shimmering flame,
An utterance of light saying:

Do not be afraid . . .
Full of Grace . . …

A few days ago, in the early hours,
I lifted the crucifix from this little altar
And gently placed it on the bookshelf next to me,
One that holds the words of poets.

Yes. Suffering and Rising.
We often pray that these two
Movements in our own lives,
Like pans of a scale, be balanced

When, truly, we might find that
The pan that rises, rises well,
Lifts up away from the counter weight
As another mass drops in.

But now is a time of waiting
In dimming light
For the gift of new infant breath,
Sweet in the hay

Little hand, the impossibly
Tiny bones of those fingers
Articulating to grasp
Mother’s warm flesh. …

Solstice Prayer

Lay me out,
Open and empty of expectations;
What comes, will come.

In a season of growing welcome,
New light kindles within the darkness.
Roots rest in their promise of green.

Sweep the ash from your hearth,
Set the wood with tinder,
So that it may catch the fire.

Warm and loosen the heart
In a time of cold
Gather within. Make room.

We are steeped
In gratitude,
May we give ourselves away.

************************************

In December 2020, the dark of winter may feel particularly cold and empty for many. If we orient ourselves toward gratitude and find ways to warm and to offer love it may help. If we remember that the light will grow again, the days will warm and life continues on even when we cannot be with others we love, we may find comfort. …

Today
I woke up and stood
At the window,
Palms open,
And saw
The red fire of dawn
Slowly spreading,

The warmth seeped in
And I knew
Wholeness
In that moment

And now,
The sky’s brilliant flames
Are extinguished
By thick western clouds
(One of those red skies:
A warning)

That early,
Radiant glimpse
Clarified me
Before this
Dark weather

Sometimes we can get so caught up in difficulties that we begin to feel fragmented and diminished. I find that being present for the sunrise has been a very helpful orientation for me at such times. It is a time when we may be overcome by beauty that has nothing to do with all of the things that are happening in our lives. The sky might also express our challenges, as this one did, when a short time later heavy, dark clouds rolled in. That day, my brief encounter with the flames of this dawn was something I carried with me, reminding me that my life was much more than the challenges that I might face. …