finding my ‘way back’ from algonquin

algonquin 007dear friends,

as i sat in silent prayer by the backyard pond this morning, closing my eyes, listening, i heard within my heart the sounds of the voices of my fellow journeyers singing. rather, i felt them there, felt the reverberations of the bass supporting the tenderness of blessing. i noticed the graceful interweaving of our melodies, which carried along with them the tendrils of our time together. indeed we wove a most blessed container for the holy. it is said in many cultures that creation was sung into being. even in our christian tradition there is the Word, uttered and outered from the mouth of God, that sings us into being. i cherish this sacred sound in my heart most of all.

finding our ‘way back’. what does that mean? of course, it could be heard in so many ways, on so many levels. i suppose we could perhaps find our way back to algonquin itself, in memory or even in body someday. or we could be finding our ‘way back’ here, back to ‘reality’, so to speak, somehow carrying the deeper ‘Reality’ we re-membered in that place with us, finding our ‘way back’ to our selves. what does it mean to you to find your ‘way back’ home? is the path narrow or wide?

for me, i think perhaps ‘the way’ lies in spaciousness, finding moments throughout my day to round the corner to discover that surprising space that always awaits, opening out suddenly to beauty. so as i sit, here by the pond, i am fully here. this is true. but i am also there, in that algonquin place within me, where my eyes are welcoming beauty, where my heart is receptive to filling, where tenderness is cherished as nourishment and death is embraced as sacred soil. somehow this feels different than clinging to what has been, for it is a carrying forth. a new body of water, from which i can drink, has been carved in the landscape of my heart. a quiet lagoon of deep peace has become a part of me. a place where i can go, alongside the loons, to play and be fed, as well as to cry out my distress and sing my mournful lament into the dark…..the dark of a nighttime sky where the stars feel so close i can almost reach out and touch them. and you all are a part of that carved out space.

and so i carry it with me, this ‘way back’, as does the turtle carry her shell, and i am at home wherever i go. i have marked the entrance with the stones of our being together, the way to a place of nourishment and safety. and i am no longer alone in that place. we are all-one. the sacredness of our song echoes in my heart. i close my eyes and we are floating, gunnelled up here in this place, being born along by Spirit, who is turning, turning, turning us so that we might experience Beauty.

may you feel my hand upon the side of your canoe, all is well, vicki

%d bloggers like this: