The magi, through desert extremes, followed the star to Bethlehem; and, in a manner, so do we. Bethlehem has many shapes.
We follow the star but listen rather than look; for our luminous orb is not in the sky but deep within our layered and hidden selves.
Here is pulsing light, plucked from the sky and placed in our heart. We carry the star, bright as the sun, though shrouded in cloud, leading us on, if we dare.
The way is not easy, I need no reminder. Life goes on around and in us all, each rough and complex step. Even strong camels can stumble.
And yes, sometimes we’re sore and sometimes we’re tired and sometimes confused as hell.
And always giving up, then going on, then giving up.
This is the thing. To follow is not to have the way made plain. To follow is to know nothing beyond today.
To follow is adjustment, daily listening to the star within, this pulsing light, this gnosis, close to our heart, bright as the sun but shrouded in the cloud of busyness, convenience or fear.
We can lose sight; we can get lost.
So we pause along the way and in the silence and the dark, we feel for the light within, this inner knowing; we listen for the guide that will lead us to a place we have never been.
Ever.
Bethlehem was not familiar to them. The wise men travelled somewhere new, somewhere quite unknown… and so do we.
We travel to our own Bethlehem, a place of discovery, waiting in our hearts, our layered lives un-layered, for a moment –
our secret Christmas, our secret joy.
