Today was a slow one. Yesterday was filled with L'Arche celebrations - but we were fighting nasty colds - so when the party was over, we crashed. And we had traveled six hours the day before, too. For two introverts - with head colds - it was enough. We had to lay low today, mostly silent, and regroup. In time, we walked in the late autumn sun by the canal for a spell. And finally I feel my wearies lifting. Tomorrow will be time enough to reconnect. I missed seeing friends today, but it had to be.Two insights from other writers spoke to me as I rested. The first is from Rabbi Jill Zimmerman in anticipation of Rosh Hashanah which begins tonight. It tells the universal truth that each branch of creation's spirituality teaches in their own liturgical tongue: our wisdom words are not chronological nor always literal; rather, they are evocative and shared so that that when we enter these places, we know how our elders traversed trying times. And maybe we can use their experience to enlighten our own - if it is the right time.
The design of this season compels us to forgive,to open our hearts, and sometimes to re-experience wounds.
Some of us have suffered profound trauma,
at the hand of parents, partners, or friends,
They might be fresh bruises
or from many years ago
They bubble below the surface, having been pushed away,
but now re-emerge,
in the quiet or the music or the prayers.
Amidst the urgent pleadings of these days,
to wipe the slate clean and start anew,
some of us are not sure of the path forward.
To the woman who has been violated
and to the man whose spirit has been beaten down,
And to anyone with a broken heart or a crushed soul
who might not be quite ready to forgive:
It’s ok.
Take your time.
Sometimes the timetable of these holy days
doesn’t match the rhythm of your heart and soul.
Sometimes our devoted prayers get intermingled with inner voices not quite resolved:
“maybe it wasn’t all that bad”
“just let go”
“let bygones be bygones”
“be the bigger person” or
“maybe I’m being too sensitive.”
This year,
love yourself enough
to trust
your own timing.
Be patient enough to
stay in the place of
“not yet.”
Trust that you will find your way,
that you will come to a time
where holding on
hurts more than letting go.
Forgive yourself for not being ready – yet.
Give yourself the time and space
to go at your own pace,
to love yourself right where you are and as you are.
From that place of acceptance,
May you have faith that the path forward will open up.
The other is from Rilke, a poem he called "Autumn Day." It, too, rings true to me at this moment in time:
Bid the last fruits to be full;
give them another two more southerly days, press them to ripeness, and chase the last sweetness into the heavy wine.
Whoever has no house now will not build one anymore.
Whoever is alone now will remain so for a long
time, will stay up, read, write long letters,
and wander the avenues, up and down,
restlessly, while the leaves are blowing.
It feels like it is time to take stock of what is essential - to cherish it and honor it too - for now the leaves are about to start blowing.
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