Blessings for the Coming Year
I opened the door this morning to still air, bright stars and an orange half-moon setting in the west and farther north than I knew to expect.
There have been times in my long career of pondering awe when I have half-wondered if I have been mistaken about its importance, but not in this moment under these stars with this glowing moon and gentle air.
Orion’s Belt calls me back in thought to those many others who looked up and marveled, and who created a many-storied sky so what they saw and deemed important could be held and passed on.
I am grateful to those others. Because of them and the woman who posted information yesterday that allowed me to expect a half-moon this morning, I stand wrapped in community with other people, too.
This quiet wrap of inclusion I have opened my door to moves me to words. In troubled times, I will want to re-open my heart to this sense of oneness I feel among all I hear and see and feel.
Within this experience too is the tawny lynx who crossed the road in two bounds in front of my car yesterday, scaled a high bank on the other side, stopped under a tree and looked back. Was it seeing its first car?
I will never know. But the wonder of movement and color taking on its unexpected form, its nimble strength and the depth in its eyes when it turned to look back drew my heart into my eyes, and my mind was there waiting.
The unity I feel among constellation-namers, an orange half-moon, the single ding of wind chimes in barely-moving air and my memory of the tawny cat in this place under early-morning stars is awe. This kind of awe is inseparable from peace.
What is more necessary than cultivating our ability to experience awe for peace to permeate our everyday personal and collective living?
I know of nothing.
I recorded this experience on January 23, 2021. When Recovering Joy became a non-profit in February, 2022, providing opportunities for experiences in nature became part of our mission. Four years later, many troubled hearts have come here and found peace as they wondered at the night sky, watched a sunset give way to evening stars, felt a sheep nibble sunflower seeds from their hand, or sat quietly by the pond and seen frogs venture from the water and up the bank.
Their problems were not solved in those moments. Addiction, a terminal illness, a broken heart doesn’t just disappear. Some of us are facing the lynx without a getaway car. But when troubling thoughts do return, their hearts will also have a memory that can re-open the door to peace. And sometimes, being able to enter that sanctuary will be enough to help them want to find and take the next right step.
Sometimes, living in the sanctuary they love will go on for a lifetime. Sometimes, sanctuary will have to be found again and sometimes again. And sometimes, those who have made it their dwelling place will open a door for others. This is our hope.
We are grateful to all who have enabled us in our mission, and to all who have come. May this year with all the changes it has brought and will bring also bring others to this land. May every heart find sanctuary. May we all open doors of peace for one another.