Christmas is wonderful. It is full of love and family and subtle magic and giving. Christmas is secondary. The birth of a human always is..... at least compared to the life they live. It is in a persons death we get to truly understand their impact. When one leaves us we taste their absence and wish for a return of some sorts...... sometimes never letting go of the affect they had on our lives.
I can tell you straight out i dont need a calendar to prompt me to invoke the memory of my lost family. I dont need a push to revisit a best friends voice or young brothers laugh. I will admit however I often forget about my communication with myself.......
Folks. The rising is not about some paranormal magic meant to instantly change our speed of spiritual evolvement. It is simply a lesson. A riddle if you will. A sentence in the infinite book. A doorway to love.
Death and rebirth. Death and rebirth. Death and rebirth. Is that not what we live daily? Do we not promise every morning to never lie again? Never give ourselves over to needless wants? Never forget the face of our fathers? Our Father? .............
My Mother is the gospel in my life. The soprano of reason. The color in the tone amidst the rhythm of my being.
My Father is the ritual. The incense and robes. The deep bass of the organ and percussive responsibility to self.
It is Maundy Thursday and Black Friday and The resurrection that reach into me and ask me what it is I mean to do with the gifts I have been given by my parents. God. Mother. Father.
The Easter story is in fact about WAKING UP!!!!! Healing our wounds and rising above dark clouds and the wailing of our childhoods and adolescence. Finding our spirit family and moving forward toward light. Keeping what we know to be true close and protecting ourselves from our own dark places.
We do it to ourselves. Every day. All the time. I know I do.
Dont trip fools........ It is the rising that kills the black-------- not the birth!
He Is Risen!!!!!
No comments:
Post a Comment