Friday, September 26, 2008
There is a whisper in the wind as it blows through a field of wild and vibrant flowers set high in the back hills of a rolling country side. The animated colors vibrantly dance and swoon through the arms of their love, the wind. To spend the vast portion of their days lost in the frail rhythmic sway between them, leaves a mark on their being that is more incumbent than the long strings of borrowed time in which they would suffer to be trapped in daily – playing for themselves merely the contingent truths of this moment to that. But here, in this primal movement on the hills, there is something more…something deeper. There is some great connection to Earth; there is some primal truth that connects them with the heartbeat of what it means to exist, thumping and pounding in a syncopated pattern from the deep cavern chambers of the life of being. What does is mean to be? What is it to exist? How do we allow ourselves to be enraptured in the fullness and frailty of the deepest existence? How do we engage a reality in which we are one in being with Christ? What does it look like for a child of God to sit confidently at the Eucharist table, a whore and yet a child? How do we take up the question of being as we uphold our identity as Christ's children?