Monday, March 25, 2013
Quaker Meeting has begun, no more laughing, no more fun. If you show your teeth or tongue, you'll have to pay a forfeit.
did you chant that as a kid? i did.
but imagine... a guaranteed hour to sit and ponder. . . ponder, worship, pray, rest... breathe. . . what have you. . . really, its that simple.
its Holy Week this week, by the 'Church' calendar and I love it and feel saddened very appropriately by it. I spend my time thinking of mortality: mine, my parents, my husband's, my children's... doubt, fear, loneliness, the pain of a humangodboychildman, the sadness and loss of betrayal and regret.... over and over again, i rehash the fears...the wonders, the 'how is this possibles?', will we make it? will we really get through?'
and slush, the cheapening metaphor for all of this, the icy wetness that is possibly the worst that winter/spring transition has to offer. boy, does it settle into your boots and bones all at once...- makes me feel my aching bones as characters within my body... joe, the tibula... aaron the femur and elyse that cocky cockix..coxicxk? coxic? kockix? shoot. coccyx. had to google. damnit.
digression aside, this joining into the Quaker Meeting community has meant that I have had to seek out the rituals of the Larger Church, because there is no ritual but silence in the Meeting. bibles abound, but there is no one to tell you what to read and when, and I love it and don't, all at once. I am nothing if not a dutiful student, and I like to be doing my homework, I like to have my assignments completed... in that regard, Holy Week is a clear path to follow.
but not simple, and dangerous for my spirit, in its turbulence. . . in that it is a way of fasting, facing the fears and doubts, being swamped by them, acknowledging the ultimate solitude within our daily breaths, our deep handholding with hope, sometimes grasping and crying out for to get through it all. . . and there is ash, and foot washing ... humility in the face of enormity, people seeking comfort from each other. it is dark for me, and I will get through it because I have faith that my cross is being lightened more than I know... all the time.
*edited to add: and she says it better: http://sarahbessey.com/in-which-we-leave-a-little-room/