Pray it open.
At the still point of the turning world,
Neither flesh nor fleshless,
Neither from nor towards,
At the still point,
There the dance is.
T.
S.
Elliott.
We've come again to the still point of a turning world.
Neither year,
Season,
Chapter and era,
Ending and beginning.
This has been one long and epic year of living and reliving,
Longing,
Belonging,
Fighting,
Writing,
Alighting.
A year of bewilderment,
Baffledom,
Fear and awe.
Of relief and belief.
And in the midst of it,
A mysterious presence,
Visitor,
Invader,
And the realizations and realities it has brought with it.
All the shock,
The strangeness,
The grief,
The ache of change in the voice,
The cling to normal,
The pull to hope,
All of it so very moving and exhausting.
And yet,
Knowing that we share this experience globally has,
In its strange way,
Felt freeing.
Suddenly there are no explanations needed,
Simply,
I know it's okay.
I know.
I understand.
At this moment,
With uncertainty still before us,
There is as ever the opportunity to get quiet and to go deep with our beliefs and ideas of who we are,
Who we were,
And who we might yet be.
To reach into the core,
To dive for the pearls and bring one up.
To turn toward the things that have over the years tapped us on the shoulder and whispered to us from the depths or the stillness of night,
Or spoken as a vision in the mirror.
We have again time to sit and riff,
Riff on everything,
To improvise,
To pour it out.
Here at the still point of this turning,
No force for resolution is called for.
No need to pry it open,
Wring it,
Squeeze it,
Plan it out into some sort of meaning.
More than anything,
It's a time to shine up the antenna and a tune,
To sit in the stillness as awkward or familiar as that is and play.
Play with what comes up.
Pray with what comes up.
Play it open.
Pray it open.
By that I mean invoke it,
Incant it,
Summon it,
Receive it,
Unearth it without effort and just with willingness,
Just with our own permission.
Douse it in the light of our curiosity and our inclination toward whatever this is,
Seeking birth.
Soon we will know.
Soon enough I will know and you will know whether it warrants your time.
Whether it's the good work you'll recognize.
Whether you'll let it grab you inside your already exquisite life.
Your only life,
Your very human life and swell like a wave beneath you that drops you on the shore of yourself.
There it meets you in the depths and bows.
It bows for you are alive.
You are the aliveness.
You are the wonder and curiosity,
The heartbreak,
The ennui,
The emptiness,
The excess.
You are the vagueness and the clarity and you see the arc of the drama of your life stretched out before you complete in beauty and in innate compassion for yourself and for others complete.
It will rock the boat.
It will ruffle the feathers and disturb the calm sea,
The emissary,
Changing everything more rapidly than things tend to change.
It will take and it will hurt and it will give and it will heal.
A tune and hear it murmuring and beckoning.
Walk and marvel,
It says.
Clean out,
It says.
Onto your own leading edge.
Build from the unfinished idea you have,
From your unfinished self.
Don't die wondering unless that's what you came for.
A tune,
A tune,
A tune,
Again and again to truth.
Take a rest sometimes.
Sleep sometimes.
Love big,
It says,
Love small,
Anything,
Anyone.
And above all,
Be kind.
Be the kindred kindness that unites all yourselves with all of mine and ours with all others.
And so here I've riffed on prayer and on opening.
Now I'd like to take the rest of the time,
A few minutes more and an ending chime,
To pray with you.
Here across time and across miles to sit with you and receive with you,
To listen with you.
And so I close my eyes now and I steady my breath.
Here's to a new time,
A new start,
A new dawning in an epic tale.
Here's to all that connects us.
Here's to our common prayer,
Our shared inward song.
And here's to the opening into which we've been born,
Now,
Together.
Here's to the meditative light,
Gone every confirmed day.
You you you
