a mystery to be lived

When we forget to rest, we forget who we are – we forget the fragile, miraculous gift of life we have been given. We hurry through our days, fuelled by fear and the false assumption that if we do not keep working, we will lose our place, fall behind, no longer be needed. But in this hurry, we are no longer present for our lives. We miss the quiet moments of connection, the whispers of our own hearts, the fleeting beauty of a world that thrives not on efficiency but on attention, on care.

When we stop – even for a moment – we remember that life is not a problem to be solved but a mystery to be lived. We remember that our worth is not measured by what we produce but by the depth of our presence, the courage of our compassion, the willingness to simply be with what is.

Without rest, we lose sight of the sacred. We forget that every breath is a borrowed gift, that every moment is a fragile thread in a vast and shimmering web. We begin to believe that we are indispensable, that the world cannot turn without our effort. Our work is not to keep the world turning but to love the world as it turns – to tend it, bless it, and, when the time comes, to let it go.

Wayne Muller,  Sabbath: Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy Lives

Sunday Quote: Surrounded by light

Throughout my whole life, during every minute of it

the world has been gradually lighting up and blazing before my eyes

until it has come to surround me,

entirely lit up from within

Teilhard de Chardin

Swim through the fires

You don’t want to hear the story of my life, and anyway
I don’t want to tell it, I want to listen

to the enormous waterfalls of the sun.

And anyway it’s the same old story –
a few people just trying,
one way or another,
to survive.

Mostly, I want to be kind.
And nobody, of course, is kind,
or mean, for a simple reason.

And nobody gets out of it, having to
swim through the fires to stay in
this world.

Mary Oliver, Dogfish

on choosing kind words

In recent weeks we have seen words used to bully, distort the truth or make bombastic claims. The desert father placed an emphasis on brevity of speech, as they knew what damage words can do. Here is an ancient Irish prayer – appropriate for Good Friday – to help us develop greater stillness.

A Íosa, Mhic Dé, a bhí ciúin os comhair Phioláit, ná lig dúinn ár dteanga a luascadh gan smaoineadh ar cad tá againn le rá agus conas é a rá.

O Jesus, Son of God, who was silent before Pilate,
don’t let our tongues move
without thinking about what we have to say and how to say it.

When we see the blossoms

New life is sometimes related to shedding of the old self. Struggles can strip away the surface layers of our lives. Growth often requires releasing old identities or expectations. Hardship can be alchemical.

Without the bitterest cold

that penetrates to the very bone,

how can plum blossoms spill forth their fragrance all over the world?

Dōgen Zenji, 1200 -1250

How will you meet the day?

A rock and a flower are both worn by time

The rock is eroded, the flower unfolds.

One is broken down, the other breaks open

How will you meet your days?

Will you let them wear you away, or will you let them split you wide so that your color spills

Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening