In March, on the morning of Spring Equinox, I put a little bundle in my garden, made up of papers and beads and cloth and ribbon. It was to represent the prayer, the magic, the dream I had of finding a job. I put it out there as a way to work with some of the pretty serious anxiety I was feeling about how our lives were going to take shape in the coming year and years. I try not to deny my anxieties because I know how they can percolate up through a life and flavor everything, but these anxieties were beginning to take a pretty firm roots. Here is the bundle after six weeks in my little faery garden:
I brought it inside on May Day and opened it up. I let the weathered objects sit on a plate on my counter for a couple weeks, trying to think about how I was going to turn them into an art project. This step was to further focus my intention and prayer for finding a job. I really wanted something that would fire me up and get me excited, but I was willing to take whatever came along, to be adaptable and flexible and to learn and grow quickly into whatever role came my way.
I never got to the stage of making the piece of art before the job appeared. The perfect job. I am under no illusions–I know it’s going to be hard work, and that sometimes it’s going to be difficult. But teaching high school English in a setting where I have some academic freedom is about as close to my dream job as you can get.
Yesterday, I made that piece of art with a deep sense of gratitude. The prayer of it now is that I will be equal to the task. If you need some of that energy, I send it your way now, too. Much love.
The poem is by Hafiz, translated by Daniel Ladinsky
Everyone you see, you say to them, “Love me.”
Of course you do not do this out loud, otherwise
Someone would call the cops.
Still, though, think about this, this great pull in us to connect.
Why not become the one who lives with a
Full moon in each eye that is always saying,
With that sweet moon language, what every other eye in
This world is dying to hear?
1. Opening boxes, exploring the ideas and assumptions I’ve been storing in there. Sorting through. Sending some things to the burn pile, some to recycle elsewhere, putting some aside to reuse, but perhaps in different forms and different ways. Some of those old and treasured ideas get re-packed and put away again for later, with maybe a few new ones tucked in around the edges to fill it in. Just like attics, hearts and minds need occasional sorting, I think.
2. This verse, from a hymn yesterday morning:
Joyful is the dark, spirit of the deep,
winging wildly o’er the world’s creation,
silken sheen of midnight, plumage black and bright,
swooping with the beauty of a raven.
3. The week ahead. Who knows what might happen next?
4. Making art with the children.
5. This little fur-boy purring wildly in my ear.
May we walk in Beauty!