A Druid Thurible

Sunrise and sunset – those liminal points when we anticipate that shift from day to night and night to day – can so often compel us to just stop and absorb; a rare and startlingly clear freeze frame amongst the blur of hours and its distractions. I am sadly more familiar with sunsets than rises, although when I do make it out of bed in time, there is nothing quite like that fresh linen buzz of a new day, the world white-washed and the light sharp and clean.

Sunset has a different feel, a last hoorah before the darkness edges in and inks outs the boundaries. It can feel bittersweet because its beauty is transient; it says to us, ‘make the most of this moment, let it be all and everything’, for in the second it takes for a star to come out once the sun sinks, it will be a memory amongst many.

Yesterday’s sunset was spectacular. Sat by the ocean on the balcony of a restaurant with a dearly loved friend, we watched as the sky became a fever, vivid and startling. Everyone stopped, took photos, commented and just for that brief period, life slipped into that magical otherworldly space when the ordinary becomes extraordinary and we are thankful to be here, living, breathing and feeling, regardless of the good and bad we might be experiencing in our wider life

The Isle of Wight lay across the water almost entirely obscured by sea mist and the crescent moon lowered itself, brightening as the sun slipped below the horizon. As we laughed, chatted and felt ourselves enfolded by the comfort of being with someone you love and know – the ships passed and the stars sparked into life and the moon –huge and red in its descent – sunk into the darkened mass of the island. A perfect moment that transience and the passing of time might take but never destroy.

I have been on the receiving end of some nastiness of late; some unnecessary emotional bullying played out in the notoriously tricky and distorted world of cyber space. I have real sympathy for the pain this person is going through, although I have been horribly misrepresented by them and bombarded by some abusive and obsessive diatribes. I can only feel that this is draining and pointless for both of us. I have stopped reading their words, deleting them the moment they pop into my inbox. Despite everything, anger and spite are transient too, they pass into the future and life goes on because it is its nature to do so…Sunset, Sunrise…

A supportive friend very sweetly passed on this great little video by Never Shout Never…it says it all:

Last night, as I was sleeping,

I dreamt – marvelous error! –

that I had a beehive

here inside my heart.

And the golden bees

were making white combs

and sweet honey

from my old failures.

Antonio Machado

Here is a mesmerised Ginger the Dog entranced by David Whyte speaking beautifully about Mary Oliver’s poem The Journey:

In the time I have been writing here, I have included some posts of a very personal nature, sharing some darker aspects of my life experiences; exploring what these have meant for me; what I have learned, or not learned. I have posted them in a public space in the spirit that when we share our vulnerabilities and struggles, we allow others to know that they are not alone in theirs. I have drawn tremendous strength from other writer’s courage in exploring those aspects of life that might have found them – at points in their life – broken, alone or exiled. There but for the grace of God go I is a wise saying – anyone of us might find ourselves at the bottom, bereft and lonely. There is a power in sharing those moments because they speak of survival, of being able to rebuild and rediscover ourselves again, but also, just as importantly, they let us know that such moments are a part of life and that sometimes it is ok to feel broken, to not feel like we have to strive to put our lives back together, just yet.

My lovely friend Julie – who tragically lost her son last year – has taught me something of extraordinary value. She spoke of how as a society we distrust brokenness, immediately wanting to fix it; make things as they once were. In her grief, she knew that such was impossible, that her son’s death had changed everything irrevocably, and why would she not feel destroyed by this? It is hard to accept for those around a grieving person that feeling so low is ok. We love people and don’t want them to hurt; however, sometimes we put unbearable strain on others trying to ‘mend’ them before they are ready. Sometimes, the pain has to be felt; the endings have to be processed and accepted, for that person to heal and move forward again. Although help and support are crucial, we should never enforce our version of ‘help’ on anyone, as this can be as damaging as no help at all.

Recently, I have heard a person speak about the mental health of their estranged partner like it was something that they had the right to mould and shape as they saw fit; they seemed to have little respect for their partner’s feelings or needs, wanting to ‘fix’ them in order to reclaim a life that once was. Sometimes, painfully, loving people means letting them be broken; sometimes, even more painfully, it can even mean letting them go…

Here is the poet David Whyte talking about and reciting his wonderful poem The Journey…Whyte is a poet who understands deeply the power of brokenness and its place in discovering a greater emotional wholeness and authenticity.