Today, I gathered five candles,
some sea salt
in a small dark cauldron,
a lighter in a starry brass holder,
a rattle made of gourd,
a singing bowl,
a crow's feather,
and my determination.
I watched the candles flare
and called in inspiration,
for the faith to keep on going
in a world that too often
feels crumpled with despair.
I planted my feet,
reached out my hands,
and lifted my voice,
believing with everything
I have left
that no matter how many stories
have been told to us
about brokenness,
we're here anyway
still whole.
This past weekend I held a small summer solstice retreat with six friends. It was supposed to be larger, but people kept cancelling. It was supposed to be at the river, but risky heat indexes put us inside. It was supposed to be cooler inside, but the AC went out and we were relegated to the basement. And, it was perfect. It was just what I (and we) needed. Something that I remembered after the retreat was over was of the importance of paying attention to how you feel after something is over. Let those moments teach you.
I've been thinking and writing recently about reorienting our lives by joy and steering away from obligation. How we feel after something is over can tell us a lot about whether we are steering our lives by joy or obligation.
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Molly, So profound and relevant. Don't we all need to find that balance to live our best lives? Your verse is beautiful. I pray,