Thursday, August 20, 2015

Joy and Light.

Sometimes I wonder if I will laugh so hard I cry, again.  I wonder if I will feel so much joy that it flushes my up from my heart to my face. I wonder if I will stand on my tiptoes, reaching for more.  I don't know if I'll ever feel my pulse race with adrenaline and happiness--Look at life in the eyes, and not be able to stop smiling.

Penetrate these murky corners where we hide our memories and tendencies on which we do not care to look, but which we will not yield freely up to you, that you may purify and transmute them. The persistent buried grudge, the half-acknowledged enmity which is still smouldering, the bitterness of that loss we have not turned into sacrifice, the private comfort we cling to, the secret fear of failure which saps our initiative and is really inverted pride, the pessimism which is an insult to your joy. Lord, we bring all these to you, and we review them with shame and penitence in your steadfast light. Amen.

It's better to have felt all of that, than to have never felt it at all, right? Yeah? And, I was lucky to have had such a joyful life as a child. I was lucky to be surrounded by family, through my entire childhood. My youth was spent in the company of those who believed in these words, which were sung with joy at a funeral, as a promise and a memory, that this was truth:

Let peace begin with me
Let this be the moment now.
With every step I take
Let this be my solemn vow.
To take each moment
And live each moment
With peace eternally.
Let there be peace on earth,
And let it begin with me."

Can we feel joy if we aren't at peace with ourselves? How do we find that peace? Some people have that inner peace and hope without trying, or searching. Some people have it and lose it. I lost it. I have beautiful children, and they were my joy, and hope, and light from the moment I met them. And I had my students. They inspired me.

God, my babies break my heart. They are wonderful human beings--the best kind--yet, I am numb? I am sad. I pray every day that I can feel that surge of warmth and hope, watching them be their little selves.

We were out boating on the Connecticut River Wednesday, and both kids were pulled in the tube, alone; and they weren't scared. It's a long yellow rope, that connects to the tube.

They seemed so darn far away from us.

Stella went out twice. As the sun was lowering in the late afternoon sky, the light was behind her. She glowed. She smiled. I said to Sam, "Look.Look. That's our baby," as she threw up her arms like she was flying. Sam simply nodded and said, "I know."

Their happiness and joy continues to slap me over and over, "WAKE UP MOMMY!"

My grandmother radiates peace and faith. She once showed me one of her favorite prayers, she reads daily:
(The final third portion of T.S. Elliot’s Choruses from the Rock)

O Light Invisible, we praise Thee!
Too bright for mortal vision.
O Greater Light, we praise Thee for the less;
The eastern light our spires touch at morning,
The light that slants upon our western doors at evening,
The twilight over stagnant pools at batflight,
Moon light and star light, owl and moth light,
Glow-worm glowlight on a grassblade.
O Light Invisible, we worship Thee!
We thank Thee for the light that we have kindled,
The light of altar and of sanctuary;
Small lights of those who meditate at midnight
And lights directed through the coloured panes of windows
And light reflected from the polished stone,
The gilded carven wood, the coloured fresco.
Our gaze is submarine, our eyes look upward
And see the light that fractures through unquiet water.
We see the light but see not whence it comes.
O Light Invisible, we glorify Thee.

In our rhythm of earthly life we tire of light. We are glad when the day ends, when the play ends; and ecstasy is too much pain.  We are children quickly tired: children who are up in the night and fall asleep as the rocket is fired; and the day is long for work or play.  We tire of distraction or concentration, we sleep and are glad to sleep, Controlled by the rhythm of blood and the day and the night and the seasons.  And we must extinguish the candle, put out the light and relight it;  Forever must quench, forever relight the flame. Therefore we thank Thee for our little light, that is dappled with shadow.  We thank Thee who hast moved us to building, to finding, to forming at the ends of our fingers and beams of our eyes.  And when we have built an altar to the Invisible Light, we may set thereon the little lights for which our bodily vision is made.
             And we thank Thee that darkness reminds us of light.
             O Light Invisible, we give Thee thanks for Thy great glory!

Did I once confuse joy with something that wasn't Heavenly light?

Did I not appreciate the beauty of God, which shown through my grandparents, and surrounded me in their home?  


I knew what it was. I felt it, and I cherished it. And I want to feel it again.  And I hope it is not a forever search.  I hope it I find it inside myself, so I can share it. When that peace and light becomes a part of me again, all will be good, and right.

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