Monthly Archives: May 2013

lost, gone

 

A Pretty Song

From the complications of loving you
I think there is no end or return.
No answer, no coming out of it.

Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?
This isn’t a playground, this is
earth, our heaven, for a while.

Therefore I have given precedence
to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods
that hold you in the center of my world.

And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song,
And I say to my heart: rave on.

by Mary Oliver
Thirst

 

theurgy

The Orion Nebula

Pam sent me this word for the day:  Theurgy, meaning “the working of a divine or supernatural agency in human affairs.”  This image of the gorgeous Orion Nebula captures for me the wild, unknowable nature of the divine and how it can reveal itself in our lives.  Within this “cavern roiling dust and gas where thousands of stars are forming,” is something more – the inescapable need to accept what is beyond my grasp, my control or understanding.  I love and hate that. Mostly I love it, because it leaves open the doors for what I cannot predict or manage on my own and for support from the unknown.

Theurgy also means “divine working,” meaning (from Wikipedia) “the practice of rituals, sometimes seen as magical in nature, performed with the intention of invoking the action or evoking the presence of one or more gods, especially with the goal of uniting with the divine, achieving henosis, and perfecting oneself.”

In Toronto, a Tibetan lama is saying a puja for our daughter.  He has given us a chant to say for her:  Om banja guru path ma siddhi hung.”  In Virginia, our telepathic friend is checking on her in her dreams.  In Kauai, our astrologer is helping us understand this terrible darkness and where to look for light.  Here at home I am burning a candle, bowing down, breathing, smelling the last of the lilacs and waiting for the irises.

Today, my words from the universe from TUT were, “Beyond your greatest fear, Paula, lies your greatest gift.”  My greatest fear has happened.  So perhaps now, my greatest gift is coming.  What could that be?  Something clothed in love, in forgiveness, in understanding, in compassion, in hope.  Tucked at the bottom of that same email was this:  “And your greatest gift, Paula, is the example you become.”