Saturday, September 29, 2007

Emitte lucem tuam, et veritatem tuam

A few nights ago, I wept as I sat on a bench outside watching the moonlight dance across Alsea Bay, sparkling through the darkness as the loons cried with me from across the water. I wept for Christophe. I wept for my own foolishness, for things I have lost, for things I’ve never had. I wept for my fear. I wept for my insecurities about myself and my body. And when I was done, I decided it was time say goodbye to those things with a little ritual the following night.

So, the next evening I took a little red candle out of my bag and went outside around the same time. Again, the waves were lit by what looked like thousands of fireflies. Again, I was alone (except for my faithful companion, Toby). This time, however, I did not cry. Instead, reflected on the loveliness of the day I’d just spent and all of the loveliness in my life as I listened to the sound of waves lapping against the shore. Once my mind had quieted, I closed my eyes and meditated, holding the unlit candle in my hands. I sat there for a long time, until finally peace enveloped me. Then, I opened my eyes, looked up into the moon’s full, shining face as released my sorrows and whispered a little prayer to the Goddess for my hopes and dreams. I ended with a softly sung offering of Ubi caritas, then went back inside to light my candle and put it in the window where I let it burn down under the watchful gaze of a benevolent moon.

Since then, I have felt peaceful, hopeful and at the same time recharged and ready for more life. Before leaving home, I was a little worried that it might feel weird to go away alone, but it turned out that sometimes solitude is just what a person needs. It recharges our batteries and reminds us of who we truly are in those moments when we are free to just be ourselves.

No comments: