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January 04, 2009
2009 - the year of the hand-made life
I'm with Anna on mountains - for me it's also sea or anywhere wild which sadly I don't live near. I also have a New Year's intention - I gave up on resolutions many years ago as I found them bad for my spiritual health.
I only have one perk in my job (hospital chaplain) but it's a good one - I get paid to go on retreat twice a year. So next week when everyone has returned to work or school, I will be tucked up at home - a deliberate choice - and will be found with paintbrush in hand (both decorator's and artist's).
Several years ago a friend showed me the story of the Red Shoes - as told by Clarissa Pinkola Estes in "Women who Run with the Wolves." (not the Hans Christian Andersen one which has such heavy religious iconography that I can't relate to it and gives it a different meaning). Anyway, it's not bed-time reading, it's very violent but the violence is about what we do to ourselves when we ignore the "hand-made" life - the life that we make for ourselves as opposed to a life where we might follow.
So, altho I'm not beginning this intention in 2009, I'm prioritizing it with a do or die zeal, which, if you read the story, isn't too much of an exaggeration. (It's also a 2 fingers up to every art "teacher" I ever had who told me how crap I was and for all the years I believed them).
In the meantime, I offer a prayer on the blog for all returning to work.......
LITTLE
Spirit of all, beyond me and within me,
in the big bleakness of winter,
and the smooth flawlessness of the glossy image,
promising new wealth and health and happiness,
come to my ears and whisper that my littleness is loved;
come to my heart that my little love is enough;
come to my head that my mind might not be overwhelmed,
come to my feet that today’s steps are all that is required;
come to my eyes that I might notice the little things;
come to my tears that I might find you in the ordinary.
Come to me as I return into the big world this season.
May I remember that in
the littlest baby,
the tiniest star,
the smallest bulb,
the diminutive wren,
lies the seed of love that overturns the universe.
Bless to me my germ of faith.
Bless to me my shortness of vision.
Bless to me my vulnerability of heart.
Bless to me my trembling of courage
and cover me with your grace,
for blessing is of gift and not of might.
Posted by Tess at January 4, 2009 05:46 PM
Comments
nur nur nur nur - it's all getting too strange for me. Remembering Shelliz' golden orb picture and now Simon's dead dog revisiting- there's definitely something afoot. But then it is the day for trusting stars and visions and dreams and going home by a different route.
Posted by: Tess Ward at January 6, 2009 02:15 PM
Hi, I came to take a look at what you are writing here after our exchange of emails and I have to agree with you that God is in a particularly pixyish mood at the moment - last night when I was clearing out some books I came across Women who Run with the Wolves, which I have never got around to reading, and this morning I started on it. Coincidence, huh?
And thank you for the returning to work prayer. I work part-time so I do not return until tomorrow, but after a long break I am having trouble getting in the mood!
Posted by: Tess (Giles) at January 6, 2009 12:15 PM