|She took flight just after this photo.|
To any ornithologists out there, the bird is a metaphor: do not write to say that this is a male.
To Mr. Berry [see poem below]: I don't have a hill in my backyard. But the bay is nice.
The original, shimmering self gets buried so deep
that most of us end up hardly living out of it at all.
Instead we live out all the other selves,
which we are constantly putting on and taking off
like coats and hats against the world's weather.
Frederick Buechner, Telling Secrets
Yesterday I sent the email and poem below to some special ladies...
My sweet friends,
Sending you love and good thoughts this morning. Thank you for your caring hearts, your shared wisdom, and your openness..for letting your lights shine.
Here's the poem I mentioned yesterday. Seems appropriate as we leave our cocoon and return to our "every days"...a reminder to hold onto the light from within, not the focus, criticism, and rules that the world whispers - sometimes hurls - at us.
A large group of disparate women gathered in silence last Thursday night and unpacked doubts, a few fears, perhaps even some cynicism (she says almost innocently), and a lot of fatigue. In three days, community was born. Not because we were won by arguments or manipulated by guilt but because we were bombarded with radical, copious, heaping helpings of love. As I meet the neighbor whose walls are up, the game-playing co-worker, the reluctant relative, the cynic, I pray that I hold uppermost in my mind and heart the undeserved love, grace and mercy freely given by the Great Good God and shown to us all by sisters of light who journeyed before us.
So, so grateful for your abiding presence...
love and light,
"Do Not Be Ashamed" by Wendell Berry.
You will be walking some night in the comfortable dark of your yard
and suddenly a great light will shine round about you,
and behind you will be a wall you never saw before.
It will be clear to you suddenly that you were about to escape,
and that you are guilty:`
You misread the complex instructions,
you are not a member,
you lost your card or never had one.
And you will know that they have been there all along,
and there eyes are on your letters and books (blogs),
and their hands in your pockets,
their ears wired to your bed.
Though you have done nothing shameful,
they will want you to be ashamed.
They will want you to kneel and weep
and say you should have been like them.
And once you say you are ashamed,
reading the pages they hold out to you,
then such light you have made in your history will leave you.
They will no longer need to pursue you.
You will pursue them, begging forgiveness.
They will not forgive you.
There is no power against them.
It is only candor that is aloof from them,
only an inward clarity, unashamed,
that they cannot reach.
When their light has picked you out
and their questions are asked, say to them:`
"I am not ashamed."
A sure horizon will come around you.
The heron will begin his evening flight
from the hilltop.
To all of you: be not ashamed...go forth, my friends, and SHIMMER.