There is a bejeweled Moon on my right hand, and a glorious Sun on my left.  The lawsone molecules of the henna paste that formed the images are bound to the proteins in the cells of my epidermis.  The Moon and Sun will stay there until that layer of skin sloughs off, replaced by a new layer of cells.

As a spiritual practice I  am working with a henna artist* to create sacred markings, on my own body, for each of the turnings of the Wheel of this Year.  In honor of Ostara, the Spring Equinox, the balance of light and dark, day and night, I now have these lovely Lunar and Solar reminders.  I am mesmerized by the images.  I find myself gazing at them in delight and wonder (careful not to gaze too long when I am driving).  They are beautiful on my parchment like crone skin.  I have been transformed into a living illuminated manuscript.  We are all living illuminated manuscripts.  Our wrinkles and scars, sun lines and bruises, stains and tattoos, are the sacred markings that help the careful reader find meaning and know our stories.

I carry a large scar on my right arm, a burn mark made from scalding water when I was only a toddler.  To read it one would learn quite a lot about me.  This part of my back story includes middle of the night trauma, very young parents, and a wise old neighbor woman.  On my left knee is another scar, two-inches in length, the culmination of several episodes of a wandering knee cap, finally tied into place by surgery, but not before it aided in the finding of my first love in high school.  

I had a friend in seminary who suffered from juvenile rheumatoid arthritis.  Over the years almost every joint in her body needed surgery.  Inked into each surgery scar she had a tattoo.  Around her left wrist was a delicate string of shells, on her right shoulder a bird with sweeping tail feathers.  Each tattoo the final chapter in the story of each surgery.  The beautiful images covering her body proclaimed for all to read her epic tale of pain and courage and triumph.  I have other friends who did the same thing after mastectomies.

As a young woman in my mid-twenties I found myself in a relationship I thought was exciting and passionate.  It was filled with lively discussions and heated arguments and wild lovemaking.  But it was in the fingerprint shaped bruises on my arm one evening after a particularly heated “discussion,” that I finally read the truer story of controlling anger.  Those ephemeral markings helped me end that particular plot line.

Now, as a much older woman I look forward to the ephemeral markings of deep purple stains on my fingers every Summer, stains telling delightful tales of blackberry breakfasts savored while standing in the sun at my back fence.  I also continue to be fascinated by the permanent markings of lines etched on my face.  Each one drawn by well over fifty years of smiles and frowns, consternations and elations.

There are so many sacred marking on the living illuminated manuscripts that are each of us.  I know that both the permanent ones, and the ephemeral ones, have gifted me with meaning and wisdom.  So I look at my henna Moon and Sun and give thanks for this ephemeral moment of balance in the constant turning of the Wheel.

And you, what meaning have you and others read in your own sacred markings?  What do the scars and stains, tattoos and bruises, lines and wrinkles that create your manuscript tell about you?  Whatever tales there are, blessings on you and all your sacred markings.

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• my henna artist is Hayet Clark www.facebook.com/hennabyhayet