The Beautiful Good

I Have Turned My Face to the Roots

Obviously or consciously, we are all pilgrims, searching this world over for the Lost Thing---that which the early Desert Fathers called philokalia, the 'Beautiful-Good.' In all the Celtic affairs, soul-yearning seems as much the stuff of life as breathing. In our time it is a more haphazard affair, for we are constantly grasping at the moon. The cure is a kind of open secret, a turning around, a shifting of the gaze from what is far to what is near, to the stillness of beginnings, to the simple secret place where the soul gathers its nourishment: a knowing of the roots. A knowing of the roots. This is a quality of Traditional People---those drum beaters and dancers and firelight storytellers who chose to dwell outside the walls of the empire.

Source: Michael Green, December, 2008, Celtic Blessings Calendar
As always via inward/outward

Surrendering her green

Slowly she celebrated the sacrament of letting go.
First she surrendered her green,
then the orange, yellow, and red
finally she let go of her brown.
Shedding her last leaf
she stood empty and silent, stripped bare.
Leaning against the winter sky
she began her vigil of trust.

Shedding her last leaf
she watched its journey to the ground.
She stood in silence
wearing the color of emptiness,
her branches wondering;
How do you give shade with so much gone?

And then,
the sacrament of waiting began.
The sunrise and sunset watched with tenderness.
Clothing her with silhouettes
they kept her hope alive.

They helped her understand that
her vulnerability,
her dependence and need,
her emptiness,
her readiness to receive
were giving her a new kind of beauty.
Every morning and every evening they stood in silence
and celebrated together
the sacrament of waiting.

Macrina Wiederkehr

via inward/outward