Monday, 01 June 2009

• Currently I'm a Mountain By Sarah Harmer see related

  Everybody has come home.

  
  When the days close on the memories that you've acquired
  And your body cannot hold your soul inspired
  You are here and not alone
  Everybody has come home
  There's a bed made up upstairs
  If you get tired
  
  All the heaviness around you will get light
  And your worry lifted up into the night
  Left with nothing but pure love
  Left with all you are made of
  Can I stay around awhile
  Is that all right?
  
  Oh lives don't end
  Goin' out to be brought back again
  Our lives don't end
  
  
  
  
  
  You are here and not alone. (Lyrics by Sarah Harmer. Garden of words/verses on moleskine collected from Taize, the lorica, the psalms. New poems on a National Post Corona ad, written on the way to and from the Gorge)
  
  Talking about faith - is a minefield. The chance and depth of misunderstanding so evident, so deep (to/for me). I have analyzed, argued, discussed religion/faith to death. Now that I'm being quiet, I feel the weight of my silence. I feel I am letting people down who I care deeply for, that I am failing to be an inspiration or encouragement (I must inspire everyone! All ! the ! time!) I feel illegitimate and I feel discounted (at times). I feel accepted, I feel supported (at times). Saying that I have few words to describe what exactly is taking place in me does not equal disbelief - it does not equal disconnection and it does not show a lack of commitment. It is, in fact, the opposite. It is the birth, it is the follow through. Perhaps it is that that I should communicate more clearly.
  
  Over and over - what has had any effect on my/others lives is the way and spirit with which I move through the world. This has not stopped, I am still moving. I am still learning, I am still grounded. And I am still firm. I still sob (sometimes) in the corners of bedrooms, huddled in a ball, my arms wrapped around my legs as tightly as possible - biting my hand to keep from crying out loud, alerting the people happily talking of books and pie to my state. I wonder if there will bruises tomorrow. I try not to break the skin. It feels different this time, my 120 pound frame feels strong and frail at the same time, my body wracked with the outpouring of all held in - the starving, the misunderstood, the pain is rushing around me. Among this, I think of the happiness of the women in my life. My mother, Meg - I imagine them content in a reading chair or in someone's arms. I think of Rosie and how she spread a table the last time I felt desperate. I know they would pick up the phone, I know they would welcome my call - this is enough. It is not a bad thing, this existence of sorrow, of great grief, and I have grown used to existing with it like this. I know how to exist with it alone in a room shaking, I do not know how to bring people into it. I am not sure it is needed or good, and I will never ask. I am already held in many hands and for now, perhaps for always, this is enough.
  
  The Taize service was moving on Saturday - Taize combined with the Abbey is a pretty amazing combination. "Since my youth, I think that I have never lost the intuition that community life could be a sign that God is love, and love alone. Gradually the conviction took shape in me that it was essential to create a community with men determined to give their whole life and who would always try to understand one another and be reconciled, a community where kindness of heart and simplicity would be at the centre of everything." - Brother Roger, founder of the Taize community in France
  
  I will leave you with a few more words from another. "Our vocation is not simply to be, but to work together with God in the creation of our own life, our own identity, our own destiny. We are free beings and sons of God. This means to say that we should not passively exist but actively participate in His creative freedom, in our own lives, in the lives of others, by choosing truth." -Thomas Merton
  
  My body can not hold my soul inspired, it is my body and my interaction with all that is beyond it, what flows in and out that holds me - it is that hands that hold me. There's a bed made up upstairs if you get tired. It is commitment, it is simplicity, it is swollen eyes.
  
  
  
  

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