My friend Christy has been THE gift of this part of my life. I am not sure I can articulate the scope of that in any case, and I certainly cannot say it aptly in the very short amount of time I have to write this morning. One of the particular gifts she has given has been appreciation. Although we work together, sometimes long periods of time pass where we do not see each other, so we have sometimes taken to writing each other letters. One such time she described feeling quite desperate for something positive, so much so that she exclaimed "I struggled to read your letter by MOONLIGHT!" She sometimes laughingly described handing the letters I have written her to "all her friends. " This letter was perhaps the first, and I asked to see it again after some significant amount of time had passed from when it left my hand. I think I said "If you know where it is...." She answered that she knew exactly where it was and that she carried it with her all the time. She gave me a smile that day, as I remembered the enthusiasm and LOVE for letters that I knew when I was younger, when I was in college or when my friends were, and as she reminded me that words in hand to far flung friends or those close to us, are a gift all their own.
[ ...after attending the Solstice Concert of the Paul Winter Consort at the Cathedral of St. John the Divine , NYC, 2009. ]
Dear Christy,
I had hoped to get this to you on Epiphany, but was just too busy to manage it. I am so glad that you came to the Cathedral with us for the solstice concert!
I love that space. I love the way some of those particular sounds fill that space. I love that that space is charged to be "a house of prayer for all people." After twenty-five years, one of my favorite moments in the concert is still when the globe is suspended above us. Stanley Kunitz wrote a poem called "The Long Boat" about getting older. Among his many observations, he describes the realization of loving the earth so much, one never wishes to leave it. When that blue-green ball is hoisted up in the solemn darkness, I can almost feel myself gasp with Kunitz' realization.
The feeling that that moment evokes may be the closest thing to the experience of the first astronauts who took photos of the earth from space... to see it from afar--- as a separate thing from 'life as we know it' for the first time! It is said that those photographs were instrumental in the development of the conservation movement because of their unique perspective and the inherent idea of the earth's fragility and as an entity to be cared for which can only be inspired when you see it in its context --- as a small blue ball suspended in the huge and boundless black.
I always think, at that moment in the dark, of the idea of sacred geometry which sees the cube of the cathedral blown open and apart by spirit---- and there in the center hangs our delicate earth with everything we know and love on it... it ALWAYS makes me think of the definition and charge of stewardship... and, of course, that always makes me think of the Stewards of Gondor from Lord of the Rings-- the holders of the Key to the White City- where the Library ( i.e. knowledge) is, and where the 'world of men' waits for the line to be "remade" ; for the King to be returned to power through an ultimate act of sacrifice which changes the course of the future (would that be Frodo or the Christ???) ....
Something about sitting there in that space charges me (and perhaps all) to be a true steward in this world that houses all we love so much... and I just love the moment of re-dedication of faith: that winter's long dark night WILL end... Spring WILL come and the tomb WILL be empty.
And now, I also love that you were there! I also love that in that space, in response to an unexpected question, I got to use the word 'transubstantiation' ( because, believe me, that was a mutual thrill)!
So, I made this christmas stocking for you as a memento... with the earth as a fragile ornament hanging from a bough. In this juxtaposition, the branch is solid and substantial and the earth is ethereal--- inspiring us to weep at the shock of its fragility and the fragility of all that lives on it--- inspiring our care... and ethereal in that it is subject to being blown apart and reforged --- its architecture reborn by spirit as we are.
Love,
C
1/25/10
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Long Boat
When his boat snapped loose
from its mooring, under
the screaking of the gulls,
he tried at first to wave
to his dear ones on shore,
but in the rolling fog
they had already lost their faces.
Too tired even to choose
between jumping and calling,
somehow he felt absolved and free
of his burdens, those mottoes
stamped on his name-tag:
conscience, ambition, and all
that caring.
He was content to lie down
with the family ghosts
in the slop of his cradle,
buffeted by the storm,
endlessly drifting.
Peace! Peace!
To be rocked by the Infinite!
As if it didn't matter
which way was home;
as if he didn't know
he loved the earth so much
he wanted to stay forever.
Stanley Kunitz
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http://www.youtube.com/PaulWinterConsort#p/a/u/1/N64tBKDqM_o
http://www.youtube.com/PaulWinterConsort#p/a/u/2/PYIUWh5M348
Do I have to say "GO!" if you live anywhere near there?
It is where Saturday night will find me... with Christy and other loved ones.
* Also see related post
http://wingedmigration-cmc.blogspot.com/2010/09/quiet-descended-on-her-calm-content-as.html
