THE VIOLIN stuns me to silence, stillness and tears sometimes – all of which amount to experience of prayer – openness and contemplation.
GRANDPA’S VIOLIN
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Tag Archives: tears
FULL TO THE BRIM
THIS WORLD is full of angels. Messengers of God. And because they’re in this world, because they’re here, in the flesh, with you and me, they sometimes wonder, with us, “how can I live?” Sometimes, of course, they answer their own question, or have it answered for them, inwardly, by God. All angels, nevertheless, need and deserve encouragement and assurance from the people amongst whom they live, and move, and have their being.
Angels are very aware of this need, of this being dependent upon something, upon someone, beyond their immediate selves. That’s how they become angels. Knowing their own need, and sometimes barely able to see through the pain of that need (and – by the Grace of God – the gift of healing tears) they are able to recognise and respond to the (often silent) human cries in others. And I know an angel called Mary, who is an inspiration, and who finds “life and hope in all the shades of green of the trees …” (I hope you like red tulips too, Mary).
As I stand at the bus stop in the early morning, tears streaming down my face, and wondering how I can live, I call myself back to the present moment. “What in this moment can I feel and enjoy and be glad for?” God is encountered in the present moment, in all the sights, and smells and sounds, in each person we encounter and with whom we interact. I find life and hope in all the shades of green of the trees and in the white blossom unfurling amidst the leaves. I am alone in the world at this time. Me and the possibilities of the day ahead.
At work of course, life finds me. Here, in all my interactions with people, I find myself and all of us to be a part of something much greater than we are on our own. In the very solid, real world of bodies and poo and blood and sick, and tears and fears and confusion, of laughter and love and violence, of connection, I find my greatest sense of the mysterious. Work gives me life. Giving my empty self to everybody, I end each day full up to the brim. A day which has begun with wondering how I can live..,
via Depression and God and Other People and Me – And Three Cheers for Us All
| All Now Mysterious.
I called at the Hospice again this afternoon. Again and again my life is touched and blessed by the ministries of angels from God. Alleluia!
MARY’S DRESS
BANK HOLIDAY weekend affords a happy extension to “left brain time.” There are always more books I want to read, more paintings I want to paint, more photographs I want to make, more writing to be done, more poems to unfold, more prayer to be celebrated, more people to share some time and stories with, more songs to be sung, more colours to be marvelled at, more silence to be revelled in – than time ordinarily allows. And that very fact is cause for thanksgiving! Life is indeed a rich tapestry. The signs of the reign, the joy of God, are all around me. And I’m immensely thankful for the connections that blogging makes possible with people all around the world.
Today’s artwork is inspired, in Eastertide, by Mary Magdalene, beloved apostle of Jesus, first witness to new life in the Resurrection, loyal provider of intimate and loving support and sustenance, someone generous, open-hearted and giving, someone who just “knew” instinctively, what Jesus’ mission on earth was about, someone released, by God’s goodness, from the kind of prison every one of us finds ourselves in from time to time.
All human persons are “bedevilled” by “Legion” the perpetually underlying and taunting belief that somehow we’re failing to make the grade, we’re unlovable, bigger and better “failures” than anyone else, destined to be “alone”, faithless, heartbroken, misunderstood, wretched. All human persons yearn for the kind of release that Jesus’ love and acceptance brought about in Mary’s life; for the kind of release that she brought about in his.
Mary Magdalene: someone cruelly maligned and abused by religious patriarchy and misogyny across the centuries, but all the while someone I’ve admired and looked to as an icon of life’s richness and fullness, of life’s goodness and generosity, of life’s being – under the vivifying reign of God – a beautifully, colourfully, gorgeously dressed dance with our Creator.
Sydney Carter described Jesus as The Lord of the Dance. In my heart I think of Mary of Magdala as Jesus’ dance-partner and she is clothed, dressed, like the environment all around and about her, in colour and glory. And theirs is a partnership, theirs is a dance that, far from being exclusive and excluding, invites you and I to join. “Shall we dance?”, Mary asks. “And shall we sing?”, asks the Lord of the Dance. And sometimes the colours blur a little in the swirling. And sometimes they’re blended by our tears …
Have you seen the wonder of it? Have you seen Mary’s dress?
