.and so it goes.

Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. 
Tomorrow is the beginning of a pilgrimage, a yearly pilgrimage. 
Tomorrow begins a 40 day journey through the Wilderness. 


I was just telling a friend tonight that Lent never seems nearly as involved as Advent because it drags on. Advent feels like if you blink, you might miss it. Jesus will be here and it may feel like the process before never happened. And then she reminded me, "That's what it's supposed to be." It's supposed to feel like we're dragging through the mire seeking the light at the end of the tunnel. We know it's there... we can feel hope... but there's so much to get through before we get there. 


T.S. Eliot wrote a poem entitled "Ash Wednesday" that I believe I have quoted on here before. Nonetheless, found this to be relevant to my current feelings about Lent:


...

Because I know that time is always time
And place is always and only place
And what is actual is actual only for one time
And only for one place
I rejoice that things are as they are and
I renounce the blessed face
And renounce the voice
Because I cannot hope to turn again
Consequently I rejoice, having to construct something
Upon which to rejoice
And pray to God to have mercy upon us
...


This year, more than before, Lent for me is about impermanence. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust, right? We're born, we live, we die. I love Ash Wednesday because it reminds me how insignificant everything is; yet in this paradoxical way how even the most insignificant things still have a purpose. We're not just ashes. The text doesn't say "Ashes and dust." No, it says "Ashes TO ashes and dust TO dust." That "to" is full of substance and action, a life lived. 


"And place is always and only place/ And what is actual is actual only for one time..."
This season of Lent I am aiming to be more present, more intentional. These words that I received from Inward/Outward today prompted this aim:


"Come back to the heartbeat, the pulse, the rhythm we all walk to, regardless of nation or color. Come back to the breath – inhale, take the world deep into your lungs; exhale, give yourself back fully. This is what the body says: release the peace that lives within your skin." 
             (Gayle Brandeis from, The Body Politic of Peace)


Taking in and giving back fully. This is what I want to do. I have yet to figure out how to embody this goal, but that's why Lent is a journey, right? Perhaps it will not come in one consistent form. In fact, that's not how my spiritual disciplines work anyway. 
Let's just say I'll keep you posted. 


Until then:: "...release the peace that lives within your skin..." and "pray to God to have mercy upon us."

(major props to Brandeis and Eliot and Scripture)