With that same tenderness and sense of wonder, the kind of tenderness and wonder only a gardener may have, he called Mary by name, inviting her into the unfolding of this story, awakening within her the wisdom of resurrection.
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With that same tenderness and sense of wonder, the kind of tenderness and wonder only a gardener may have, he called Mary by name, inviting her into the unfolding of this story, awakening within her the wisdom of resurrection.
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Ignited by the endless ecological destruction and rape of the Earth, by the injustices revealed in our continuing pandemic, by the absolute disregard for Life in the attempts to return to “normal,” by the blatant attacks on our Indigenous brothers and sisters by rolling back protections of their sacred lands in the name of greed and profit, by the murders of Rayshard Brooks, George Floyd, Breonna Taylor… and the continued justifications by those who are willfully blind to the sin, the evil of racism in this country… i am enraged, i am on fire. And yet, as the fleeting, fiery desert blooms teach me, to be on fire is not enough to sustain this awakening to Life that has ignited the whole Earth community.
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Returning home to the arroyo hondo, the deep stream, the place where i began to fall in love with the high desert, i feel suffocated. My face is covered with a mask, as is the way these days. But the suffocation goes deeper for i feel it in my bones, my soul. The pandemic has brought with it a cloud of uncertainty that enshrouds us all.
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Living into the lesson emerging from the wisdom of these seeds, I will honor this time of darkness, knowing that as the darkness grows, something in my being is taking root.
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