Happy Rising Day
a different sort of Easter blessing
My trash-talking of ‘Jesus’ or whoever wrote that story to convince us that WE are not the Christ, does nothing to diminish my love of Easter! We are rising! Today is the celebration of our re-membering, as Nefahotep says, bringing the members of our One Self back together from where we’ve been scattered and dismembered.
Today is when we re-cognize our true Self in each other. We are re-surrecting, a word Nef says means ‘to rise’. And since he is making bread, I’ve linked my poem Becoming Yeast at the end along with my Christmas message, You Are the Christ, which includes my poem called The Holy Dark.
I’m celebrating today with my oldest daughter, whose favorite holiday is Easter. I hope that you are surrounded by the warmth and love of family, wherever they are, and the knowledge that joy, which has no opposite, is your birthright. Resurrection is inclusive and ongoing, or not at all. Life is not opposed by death.
YOU are infinite and eternal.
Mollusks & Diamonds
Mollusks and diamonds in the sand are equal in their origin, their value common to the land who wears each one with equal grace and does not mourn what is replaced. The vein that sings life into clay, the orbit of a single cell, is mimicked in the Milky Way. Or does Orion lift our lung his bow in flex, his point unflung, an actor with the act undone? The new fiancé seeks, distraught guiding by weeds in crust of salt to find the sand her love has bought, unreconciled to jewels of spray. Cassiopeia girds her waist with rocks that fling their dying light towards a shroud of murky haze. Huddled misers count their days, pebbles thrown against the night chasing love from flare to flare in light abundant, unaware. The oceanic night exhales spinning stars in pinwheel trails filling moon’s candescent sail. The Virgin scatters grace like coin to mothers needing blessing most. The Lion burns, a silent host, centered in the nautilus where time and distance spiral in in the beginning and the end as it is now and ever was.
In this episode, I read my poem called Becoming Yeast and talk about prayer and forgiveness. I ask whether two people asking the same question, with more concern for getting the right answer than being right, is a special form of prayer.
Happy Birthday! I look at the Christ as a movement, not a person, that's coming into being after 2000 years of dormancy. I read "How Will the World End?" from the teacher's manual of A Course in Miracle. And I end with a poem I wrote called The Holy Dark.
A short story:
A Barnacle clings to a stone in the creek as the flow of rushing water passes.
One barnacle says to the other, "why do I just cling to this stone??
Where will all this rushing water take us?
Another barnacle sneers back, "if you let go you'll get crushed by all the smashing of your shell against other stones and debris.
You're best to just stay right here and continue clinging.
At least you'll be safe."
Finally the first Barnacle who clung to a stone lets go.
The Barnacle is hurled down-stream, caught in the current's flow.
The Barnacle's shell does not smash nor get crushed.
But the Barnacle finds the flow and freshness exhilarating and very positive.
With the current's flow, the Barnacle meets many others passing through the current.
The creek becomes a stream, and then a river, and then the ocean.
New nutrients and experiences are offered along the journey, more than would ever be gained clinging creekside.
The Barnacle survives the entire journey with a new life rewarded.
A "death" was risked in order to begin this new life.
Sacrifice can do that.
Spring and Easter bring the opportunity for the rising up of a new life, a resurrection of sorts.
That's how I celebrate this day.
Blessings
«And they found the stone rolled away from the sepulchre.»
Happy 1991th anniversary of the Son of man defying a government-imposed lockdown!