It is the evening of the day. I sit and my tender heart fills with many thoughts, thoughts of joy, gratitude, wonder, peace and hope. In the world of doom and climate change, visiting aliens, and threats of nuclear war, terrible disasters, radiation spills and oil leaks, dying animals and the extinction of species, one could see an end with no hope for humanity. Easter is a time of resurrection; the dark days are gone and the promise of a vibrant, green spring is at hand. Long before Christianity, the egg symbolized the rebirth and the decorating of the egg with pagan symbols can be dated to thousands of years before Christ. The colours of the egg all have meanings as does each intricately drawn and carefully executed picture. Thinking back to when the women sat by candlelight in cold homes, nimble fingers deftly drawing hope on simple gifts of eggs, I cannot help but be grateful for this life I have. My days are full of love, laughter and joy, play with my dogs, and evenings of platitude and warmth. In the far distance, a lone coyote cries, seeking a simple meal to fill his hollow belly and the loon calls his last voice to tenderly kiss the warmth of the sun goodnight. The big beautiful dogs, protectors of this paradise, work during the shadows, listening for sounds in the night that are amiss with the peacefulness of their existence. Some nights are quiet, the frogs signing in harmony with a chorus that lifts to the tall trees who dance gracefully to the tune, but the guardians do not slumber, for they would give their lives if called upon to do defend their world. That is their nature, their breeding of hundreds of years, natural guardians of the night and giant lovers during the light of the day.
One can choose to worry about all things awry or one can choose to live in bliss, to rise above the ghetto or the misery and float on gossamer wings transcending the pettiness of terrible distraught upon the Earth. One can be caught in the web of the garish spider, both terrified to be bound and too traumatized to move, in case the reaction results in death, or one can revel in the lightness and freedom of the silk spun web and make friends with the hungry spider.
And so, Easter, today, the day wrapped in Pagan historical celebration, I broke bread and drank rum with a good friend in the morning, the lovingly prepared basket feast blessed by the voice of his religion. While I partook in the simple bounty, I gave thanks to my friend for sharing his meal with me and for his presence in my humble home, to the animals whose lives were lost to provide the tasty meats and to the plants that died to feed my body. All is from the Creator and to the Creator, I am grateful for my life and blessed to be alive on this most glorious Easter day. There is much hope for a brilliant future. I feel it.
One can choose to worry about all things awry or one can choose to live in bliss, to rise above the ghetto or the misery and float on gossamer wings transcending the pettiness of terrible distraught upon the Earth. One can be caught in the web of the garish spider, both terrified to be bound and too traumatized to move, in case the reaction results in death, or one can revel in the lightness and freedom of the silk spun web and make friends with the hungry spider.
And so, Easter, today, the day wrapped in Pagan historical celebration, I broke bread and drank rum with a good friend in the morning, the lovingly prepared basket feast blessed by the voice of his religion. While I partook in the simple bounty, I gave thanks to my friend for sharing his meal with me and for his presence in my humble home, to the animals whose lives were lost to provide the tasty meats and to the plants that died to feed my body. All is from the Creator and to the Creator, I am grateful for my life and blessed to be alive on this most glorious Easter day. There is much hope for a brilliant future. I feel it.
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