A Box Full of Darkness

Someone I loved once gave mea box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too, was a gift. Mary Oliver, Thirst
I was once given a box full of darkness. Someone I loved gave it to me, too. The darkness was actually disillusionment, disappointment, and despair. The box was full of meanness, lies, and deceit.
The first thing I did with this box was glorify it. I gave it pride of place in my emotional world. I let it consume my thoughts, my heart, and my mind. Every so often, when I was feeling at my most vulnerable, I opened it up and peered into the darkness, where I would wail and cry in despair, pitying myself for being dealt such a dark and horrible blow.
Time passed, and I found myself opening the dark box less often. Sometimes, I was just too busy with other things to spend the time I knew the darkness required. Other times, I simply didn't have the energy to deal with all those dark emotions. Eventually, I was just bored with the dark box and it's perpetual whining.
Then came the day that my thoughts drifted toward the darkness, and I realized the dark box was no longer there. For a few frenzied moments, my mind searched for it, but I simply could not conjure it up. A deep sigh of relief welled within me, and I knew the darkness was gone for good. In it's place was a very quiet sense of understanding. peace, and forgiveness, a sensation that I had never before known, but one I wanted very much to store up and treasure.
At one time or another, life will hand each one of us a box full of darkness. It's important to keep that box around for a while - but not for too long. Buried deep inside this box is a wealth of insight, compassion, and self-awareness. When you dig deeply enough to reach this layer, you've found the real buried treasure - the true gift that's hidden in the darkness.

One Deep Breath-Windows and Doors

particles of glass combine with artist's vision~ awesome creation

We visited so many cathedrals during our trip to the UK last year, and I was in my own personal glory viewing all the stained glass windows, each centuries old, and each depicting it's own creation story.
But one of my favorite stained glass windows is quite new, and right here in the US - the West Rose Window of Washington's National Cathedral. This contemporary masterpiece is also known as the "Creation" window. An abstract rendering of the beginnings of mankind, it was designed by artist Rowan LeCompte and installed above the west front portal of the Cathedral in 1976. Set ablaze by the rays of the sun, the window is an impressive 25 feet in diameter and contains over 10,500 pieces of clear and colored glass.

Besides its beauty, there's another reason I love this window so much. Our guide told us that the artist was visiting the National Cathedral with his school when he was about 13 years old. During that visit, he became so entranced with the stained glass already in place, he decided then and there that creating art with glass was going to be his life's work. He began studying on his own, and had his first window installed in the National Cathedral just a few years later. Besides the fact that the artist and I share a common name (Rowan is my surname), the teacher in me is just delighted with this story!

for more haiku go here

Sunday Scribblings-Instructions

How to...

Sing with the voice of the nightingale, or chickadee ~

Move with grace, swift as the deer through the wood ~
Flow ceaselessly, like the neverending tide ~
Sparkle in a million diamonds like the sun on the sea~
Gaze in wonder with the eyes of a child ~
Love with wild passion and consuming fire ~
Savor each moment of life's grand adventure ~
Instruct me in these ~ what more would I need?
for further instructions, go here

A Force To Be Reckoned With

“I have forced myself to begin writing when I've been utterly exhausted, when I've felt my soul as thin as a playing card…and somehow the activity of writing changes everything.”
Joyce Carol Oates
"Don't force yourself," my grandmother used to say, when friends would call me to go out playing on an icy cold winter day, or teachers would urge me to compete in piano competitions."If you're not feeling up to it, you shouldn't try to do it."
Thinking back on it, this was odd advice from a woman who came of age during the Great Depression, the eldest of eight children. An unusual way of thinking for a southern farmer's daughter, who became a farmer's wife at age 17, a mother at 19. There must have been many times when she had to force herself to rise at dawn to care for the animals, to light the stove, to tend to a sick child. To bake the daily bread, harvest vegetables from the garden, and preserve them for the winter. In her youth, she was a strong, hardworking woman. And yet, she always seemed to encourage me to take the easy way, to ride life like a soft cloud, swerving neatly to avoid any potential bumps in the road.
I embraced her philosophy throughout my childhood, and even into early adulthood. With age, however, I've come to realize the necessity and value of "forcing myself." Countless times, I have grudgingly dressed in my concert attire and "utterly exhausted," dragged myself to the stage. Then, the lights go up, the performance begins, and suddenly everything changes. I'm not only energized, I'm excited, alive, fulfilled. There are mornings I open the pages of my journal, totally convinced that I have absolutely nothing to say, and as soon as the pen touches paper, words seem to bubble forth, like water suddenly released from behind a dam. Even in the most mundane of chores -if I can just push myself to attack those closets that need cleaning, or those drawers that must be sorted - there is a real sense of satisfaction in completing the project and restoring order to some small part of my material world.
It is so easy to play it safe, to allow ourselves to take the smooth road and avoid any detours that might require us to get out and push ourselves uphill. Sometimes, it's absolutely necessary to apply force in order to avoid total inertia. It's amazing how simply engaging in the activity (of writing, or playing music, working out at the gym or scrubbing the floor) can change everything.