One of us lives on the east coast. One of us lives on the west.

One of us lives in a rural community. One of us lives in a city.

Both of us wander. Both of us witness. Both of us write.

This is a record of what we find.

Thursday, December 12, 2013

A GIFT OF LIGHT reposted from December 13, 2012

The days are getting shorter. It’s dark now when I take Emma out for her evening walk. Well, not exactly dark—light shines out from bay windows as people go about their evening routines, and the horizon is flush with the glow of city lights.

But now, more light shines beyond the usual urban illuminations; bays glimmer with spills of fairy lights, while trees inside glimmer cheerfully, reminding us that where there is darkness, we will bring light. When the days grow short and the world feels dark, what do we do? We hang a string of lights, we light candles, we put up a tree and illuminate it with bright colors.

It’s what we humans do. We seek to balance. Where there is sadness, we try to offer comfort. When we see despair, we strive to offer hope. When someone we love is down, we reach out to lift them up. Where there is darkness, we bring light. We do it with our actions and our words. These are gifts we offer and receive everyday. It is what makes us good.

 It makes me incredibly happy to go out walking after dark, look up the street and see a spray of twinkling lights, as if they were put up with the specific purpose to guide me on my way.

When my daughters were in kindergarten, they walked the Advent Spiral, as is Waldorf tradition. It begins with a spiral of green boughs in a darkened room with a single candle standing in the middle. Each child is given an unlit candle in an apple, which they take through the winding spiral, light at the center, then place along the path on their way out. Each lit candle is a gift, lighting the way for others.

A gift of light can take many forms. Gifts made by hand are full of light. And let’s not forget how books can enlighten us. Gratitude is also a gift of light. (And the perfect gift for the guardian angel in your life!)

With deep gratitude for all of our friends at Kissing The Earth, I wish you light.


Thursday, December 5, 2013

The Silence and the Phoebe Bird

The dark is here. I am feeling it more this winter than I have in the past and I am not sure why. 

It feels like a waiting. 
Like a hoping.
Like a wanting. 

The phoebe sits on her nest
hour after hour,
day after day,
waiting for life to burst out
from under her warmth.

Can I weave a nest for silence,
weave it of listening,
layer upon layer?

But one must first become small,
Nothing but a presence,
Attentive as a nesting bird,
Proffering no slightest wish,
no tendril of a wish
board anything that might happen,
or be given,
only the warm, faithful waiting,
contained in one's smallness.

Beyond the question, the silence.
Before the answer, the silence.

                                           May Sarton

May says it best. 
As the days continue to grow shorter, and as the darkness continues to spread its inky self across the hours, it is comforting - perhaps simply imperative - to be small.

To be warm.
To faithfully wait.
To embrace the silence.

For life will burst out
Oh yes.
Oh yes.