“But I don’t look like a sun,”
Daniel Ladinsky, A Year with Hafiz (2011), December 22
a young star still wrapped in swaddling
veils said.
To which I replied,
“But you will, my dear. You will, mashuq.
So don’t worry. Don’t fret.”
My day began before dawn, quiet and dark, lighting the final candle of the Advent wreath. Curious, Walker stood close, watched the flare of the match, the flickering of the four candles, and then left to keep silent vigil sleeping in his bed. I thought of family and friends, the passing of time, the moments of melancholy with the missing…thresholds crossed and yet to be.
It’s now Sunday evening, quiet and dark. I have just listened to poet Elizabeth Alexander read the final chapters from her memoir, The Light of the World. Recommended in Allison Wearing’s online memoir writing course, it’s the lyrical account of the sudden death of her beloved husband…beautiful, poignant, poetic.
A deep breath, a pause to reflect, and to register the sanctity of her story and the liminality of these holy days.
Then, I turned to the book beside me: The Dreaming Way, Toko-pa Turner’s brilliant invitation to the practice of dreamwork. The chapter, “Wisdom of Sophia.” Its essence, as the embodiment of paradox and the continuous chaotic cycle of creation and destruction, leads us to a refinement of our life force aligned with nature.
“Not only is there more to your story beyond this anguish, but one day you story will be the starlight for another to follow out of their own darkness.”
Toko-pa Turner, The Dreaming Way (2024)
Another deep breath and pause to let Toko-pa’s words land. And just before I turned off the floor lamp, I fetched from my box of sacred books and journals, Hafiz by way of Ladinksy to read today’s contemplation.
There’s a thread running through this day…revealed in the elements described here. And a blessing for you, dear friends, that you may trust in your own, perhaps still wrapped, starlight.
Much love and kindest regards.
A Wabi Sabi Life 