It is pitch-dark outside and the rain is clacking on the roof. The sound of the chimney heating up from the fire I just lit brings its own crackle to my soundscape, and I am in my sweet spot—the hours before the rest of the world stirs is holy time for me.
There is so much holy time—in the day, in the week—and I miss a lot of it with my efficient pace and multi-movements… but not all of it…
Our work as humans is to remember how to attend to what’s right here—we come here so in-the-moment we can’t do more than breathe and do the basic things to live, in the end I imagine it’s the same—but here, in the middle; well inside of life, we are granted all of these holy minutes each day, attending, tending…and that’s all that’s really asked of us.
Last Saturday, 15 of us gathered to tend and attend.
We listened, we cared, we used our bodies and our voices in service and we each and all walked away touched: more ourselves, more connected, more trusting, more free…
I can’t imagine a more worthy way to spend my time. And yet I know, I really know, that every day I let other things, less holy things—like this machine I clack away upon—pull me away from the most important things.
So, from the dark of morning I send out a prayer, a wish: may we each and all choose to tend and attend what matters most. And may we forgive ourselves when we don’t.
May we drink in deeply of the cup of presence when indeed that is the steaming cup in front of us.
I am inviting you, from right here, to mark your calendar for our next gathering—next year! January 11th from 11am-6pm.
It matters that we gather, it matters that we bring our bodies together in service, it matters that we remember who we are. XX
