"Our truest response to the irrationality of the world is to paint or sing or write, for only in such response do we find truth." - Madeleine L'Engle
I have encountered this word so many times this week. I have lost a relationship because of this word. People get sick and experience anxiety because of this word. People forget what matters most because of this word.
I am not so sure about what to say at the start of the New Year. All I know is that I find myself ever so carefully treading into this new day. Not so hyped up about all the greetings and cheer. Not so dazzled by the fireworks and the thrill of frenzied laughter. Perhaps I can say that I'm going into this year quite reflectively. Not rushing into anything. Not hurrying into anything. Primarily because I'd like to begin it again by acknowledging that there is this so-called thing as unforced rhythms of grace. Something I have started to live by the start of 2010 but somehow found it buried under a heap of busy obligations and unforseen circumstances. I spent today by going to 7am mass with my family. We went to St. Therese of the Child Jesus Parish like we always do for the past 33 years of my life. We never miss 7am mass despite the late New Year's Eve family gathering. I wasn't quite awake yet when we sat on the pews but I was awake enough to notice that o…
It took me a week to finally choose a poem I resonated with among the six poems I was assigned to reflect on through the ancient practice of sacred reading called lectio divina. The experience of being in a writing course (albeit online) has given me the liberation to explore the power of words and unearth the gift I know I've long locked within. The gift of realizing I have the same power as well.
My writing process was a painful unraveling. I could not write immediately. I could not catch the thought and pin it down on paper. I tried reading other books that would get the flow of creativity going and to no avail the anxiety caught on and forced me to take a break. So I did. And went back on it again this weekend. I had to recalibrate my mind for 2 hours. Removing the residue of the business mind that forces me to constrict my definitions of life in a less human sounding voice. I began my meditatio of Yehuda Amichai's "The Amen Stone".
I look at the second to the last post I've written and saw that it's been exactly a year. How uncanny is that?
I've scattered my thoughts in many different places but still one place beckons me to stay still. To write to believe. It seems like an anthem that I'm hearing. A sheep's horn begging me to come out from hiding.
And I am.
The year has been difficult. There were relationships I had to let go of and relationships that I've chosen to keep. There were duties that I had to stick out for and woundedness that I had to face. It's been a sifting kind of year and it wasn't easy. I am amazed that I am still here alive and grateful for unexpected places of grace.
I've chosen to simplify many things. Like the way I write and the way I live. I realized how difficult it is to keep having to shape-shift around many people. They won't always be like me and I will not always receive what I need from everybody even if I put 100% of me i…