Thursday, December 22, 2016
It was a poorer time, it was a simpler time. It was the time when imagining was free and easily available, but doing was not affordable. The boxes under the tree did not come from Tiffani's, but the anticipation was gigantic. The gifts did not empty the bank, but they did fill the heart with something wonderfully transcending. The apartment in Brooklyn may have been cold, but the spirit of the Holidays burned brighter and warmer than ever.
Years have past since, but the memories still burn bright. May you all make memories to warm you for the rest of your life.
Sunday, December 11, 2016
The cracks is where the light comes in
The hard blows life delivers to us, wound us deeply, yes, but mostly they open us up. They crack the hard shell of invulnerability and hubris and let the soft light of empathy pour in.
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune remove our blinders, if only temporarily, and life takes depths and colors unknown before.
It is being said that it is only the wounded healer who can really heal. This year, once again, I came face to face with the old Lady Fate. In her deep, all knowing eyes I saw the threat of death, and the fear of suffering. And then she raised her hand and her old knurled finger pointed to so much more: The love of family, the support of friends, the kindness of strangers, but most of all I saw, I saw the boundless empathy and kindness of other wounded healers. My heart lifted like a feather, and opened like a cherry blossom in the midst of a February storm to welcome the mystery that is Life.
So, this year I have a very special and very personal wish for our magic tree: Please keep all the wounded healers healthy and strong so we can continue to shine the light of hope even in the darkest nights of the soul.