The rising sun behind one shoulder,
the lingering moon above the other.
A death in the community on Holy Thursday,
A conversation about all we can do,
and how little we can control.
A sweaty morning run,
In the chilly Erie air.
The call for me during this Triduum and Easter has been to not just accept things as they are, but even more, to embrace them. But, for me, that is often times a difficult thing to do. My mind tries to wrap itself around the paradoxes of life when the best I can do with those paradoxes is live into them. A poem that recently came my way reminds me of this. (Funny by Anna Kamienska)
What's it like to be a human
the bird asked
I myself don't know
it's being held prisoner by your skin
while reaching infinity
being a captive of your scrap of time
while touching eternity
being hopelessly uncertain
and helplessly hopeful
being a needle of frost
and a handful of heat
breathing in the air
and choking wordlessly
it's being on fire
with a nest made of ashes
while filling up on hunger
it's dying without love
it's loving through death
That's funny said the bird
and flew effortlessly up into the air
This morning, many birds must have been smiling at me, watching me sit on a tree trunk at the lake as they flew effortlessly across the water. It really was a perfect morning gift though, some birds soaring in solitude, some birds flying in flocks, all with a backdrop of purples, pinks, and blues surrounding us.
As I sat there with all the life that has taken place since Holy Thursday, all the questions that I have pondered, and all the prayers that have sprung from these days, I sat, too, with gratitude for what felt like even the tiniest embrace of the reality of things, the tiniest ability to not worry and wonder about what's going on, the tiniest flight into air, the tiniest springing forth into new life.
And, as for those flowers that were springing through the ground the other week?
Let us walk in the holy presence.