Sitting on a rock by the back door of where I live this week were two lizards – a parent and a child. Taking in the rays of the sun, warming up to stock up on food and mingling with more species than the protection the dark and cold offered them for the past few months. They had grown since I saw them last and retreated silently and with haste (for a blue tongue lizard) as soon as I was detected. What do we retreat from even when we are enjoying basking? A potential of threat, however unlikely, can have us scuttling away from what our heart desires or body needs. Sometimes these lizards call the bluff of potential predator by opening wide their mouth and showoff their tongue with their best impression of being bigger and stronger than what might be attacking them.
The fight or flight response deeply embedded in the DNA of all creatures finds its genome path from the reptiles to us humans in still recognizable ways. Yet with gentle and careful movements these prehistoric creatures can be handled, although there are clearly uncomfortable with leaving solid ground under foot.
Coming into the light, forecasts the next invitation: to recoil into darkness. The nooks and crannies in the rocks at my back door, are a glimpse of the tiniest distance between those two offerings: the distance of a lizard’s breath. Or perhaps as the Celts would have it – thin places – where distance between heaven and Earth collapses. The lizards know this thin place, where in a singular world their bodies unite in the moment of blissful basking. In a moment perhaps easily broken silently by a shadow or unveiled by a raider coming to steal or threaten to break that moment. The lizards are in conversation with the rock and commune as they meld together.
The giant lizards of pre-history, those dinosaurs pursing us into the dark places of our imagination, maybe no more than the blue tongue lizard quietly basking in the sun offering us a thin place to reflect on being between heaven and earth. There is light and dark in all our lives bringing us shade and cover, exposures us to the elements and everything in between. The invitations to stay in the sun or find the crack in the rocks to slither away, are every present, often in equal measure, pulling, pushing.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged blue tongue lizard, dark, light, lizards, Sor Juana de la Cruz, thin place on October 17, 2015 by Moira Were AM.
It is so much better sharing good news rather than bad news! There is some kind of multiplier effect at work; the sun is shinier and the roses are more perfumed – love is in the air.
The waiting is over and now we get to bask and take pleasure in the reflected adoration of a child. Like the universe expanding, each smile radiates and each coo is a song of the angels.
Our grandson was born on July 4 , and as my friend Michelle has said he is bound to be an independent and brave boy. His first name (Archie) means bold and true and his middle name (Roy) means king, and I hope that means he will grow into someone who will be able to fight only battles that are worthy of him and will live generously and courageously with all those he meets in his journey.
On the day of his birth Venus and Jupiter appeared like two stars and were juxtaposed with almost full moon. This planetary alignment is called by some astronomers a Bethlehem moment. As a student of the skies I wonder if you ever saw this phenomenon through your telescope or naked eye? I have no doubt that with the arrival of every child someone is celebrating a Bethlehem moment of their own as all of creation sings and dances for joy.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged Bethlehem, Micah, Sor Juana de la Cruz on July 5, 2015 by Moira Were AM.
I am being given a test in patience while waiting for my status to change from grandmother-in-waiting to grandmother. It is my patience that is on trial and my ability to not let my own anxieties spill over and infect the mother and father to be – or indeed the aunt and uncles and grandfather to be. I have not been entirely successful and there is definitely fraying at the edges with loose threads moving from invisible to visible. Containment is getting harder as the anticipated arrival of the next generation seems to take two steps forward and then one step back. So much of life is this dance of expectation, false alarms, failure to deliver while the invisible grows into visibility. Pregnancy is a great metaphor and I am learning that witness to arrival also has its lessons.
Waiting is vigilance with purpose. Being ready to greet what you are waiting for is never passive. You look for the cues, any little sign that the waiting is coming to an end. You prepare yourself for what is coming next, you have a heightened awareness and level of staying awake as so not to miss the moment when the waiting is over. Did you ever feel the anxiety of waiting for a party to start and wondering if anyone will come and then the relief when guests start to arrive and when it is all over you wonder why you didn’t trust your friends to turn up?
You were a lady-in-waiting Sor Juana before you entered the convent so you must of known something of what it means to anticipate what your mistress and the court wanted. Paying attention and having an ability to predict what is needed would have made you a valued member of the court. Your intellect and charm also endeared you and many enjoyed being able to put you to the test with a quiz to show off your intellectual capabilities – something it seems you relished. I am not relishing this test however, and I can’t wait for it to be over and being a lady-in-waiting of any kind, I am discovering is not a vocation coming easily.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged anticipation, grandmother, lady in waiting, Sor Juana de la Cruz, vigilance, waiting on July 2, 2015 by Moira Were AM.