Radiance Within

Flower Moon

July 5th, 2021

Such a personal moon, this soft pink and lavender full moon of May 2021.

It started drawing my attention at the gibbous, three-quarter phase. Its power already palpable. Yet in its strength–its size and brightness–it was gentle, almost loving. I interpreted its pull on me as call toward compassion, especially toward myself.

Nudged on by the soft evening breeze, the serenade of crickets, and the echo of the neighbor’s chimes, I lay on the chaise lounge in the backyard, certain of my need to bathe in the light of the Flower Moon.

I don’t know exactly where that hour of moon gazing took me. Maybe it was an inward journey toward awareness and appreciation of the natural world that I am so often too busy to notice.

Maybe it took me toward forgiveness. I know I tend to lose my way, trespassing on the feelings of others on the way to what I want.

Perhaps it took me toward peace. I struggle so hard against myself, others, the world. Surviving, striving, and thriving take their inner toll.

Perhaps during my hour with the moon, I slowed down and got quiet enough for love to catch up with me. Maybe it was a gift of time from God, creation itself, the universal spirit, the collective aspirations of the human heart.

The pastel colors of that gentle moon stayed with me. The next day I bought pink and lavender candles, scented with peony and lilac, flowers that kindle a certain sense of homesickness. The home of my dreams that never was. The youth that’s gone more every day.

But the soft fragrances remind me, the soft moon reminds me, I can steep my soul in the iron core of strife. I can burn in battle against people, ideas. I can fight to be right. I can carve out a space for myself in the material world, but I will never dry out the need for the eternal river, the gentle flowing substance of soul.

I can pretend all I want that I am of this world, but nature will always remind me of the mystery–spirit’s call–the reality of candles, and twilight, and the moon. The magic of life miraculously ebbs back.

I remember who I am, eventually, and that despite all of the necessary doing, at its heart, a human life is about being.

-May 20, 2021

Photo by Johnny Kaufman on Unsplash
Hour of the Wolf

May 20th, 2021

It happened again last night. In the strained distortion between 4 and 5am, wakefulness seized me and wouldn’t let go. A predator had hold of me. Worry, mystified and seasoned by night, turned to panic. The wolf inside fed on her prey.

But wild fear woke me before I could be consumed. Instinct knows consciousness is the only power that can conquer the primitive. Wakefulness worked against the wolf, but she had already fed enough on my sleep.

It was no use. I got up, felt my way to the bathroom, and flipped on the light. My eyes strained against the glare. A friendly meow greeted me in the blindness of the hall, the cat on her conscientious patrol of the living room. Predators were loose in the house, including the attic of my mind.

But last night when I turned off the light and got back into bed, I must’ve negotiated something with the mysterious wolf. The moon was only half full. An evenness existed between time and space. The irrational balanced the rational. Sleep spilled over into wakefulness and then receded into sleep. In the pull between them, fear and reason found common ground. And today is like a morning after a storm, an unlikely aftermath of clarity and calm.

The wolf seems to have forced a peace. I thought she’d hunted me down in the vulnerable hours because she was ravenous and wanted to feed on my worries. But I was wrong.

We are both drawn by primitive forces. No matter how tame my human life appears to be, my wolf reminds me I am governed by the moon and the terror of the hunt. In the light of day, it seems obvious. She only wanted to rouse me, so together we could howl.

-Radiance Writer

May 19, 2021
What’s Behind the Words

April 12th, 2021

Words teach us to love and to hate. They bestow honor and bring disgrace.

Words can heal and they can hurt. They have secret powers.

Beneath the surface they harness creation. Imagine words of salvation.

In the beginning the word was divine.

The world sprang into being as words formed into things.

Darkness. Light. The heavens separated from the firmament.

Creatures of the sea, sky, and earth swam, flew, and walked.

All of it was good because it had been named with love.

Words have secret powers. Beneath the surface they also destroy.

Trees are felled when circles of people yell at them to die.

Plants shrivel in school hallways when as an educational exercise

children bully them like the outcast they fear to be.

What happens to children when the encircling words wound?

What do the wrong words— the out of control words do

to women and men? Entire races of people? Religions? Nations?

Anyone who makes someone uncomfortable

because he, she, they offer rainbows to a gray world.

Catch offenders in the act of violence.

Shine light on what’s beneath their words.

Catch ourselves. Listen to what’s behind our own words.

Then beg forgiveness. All of us. Ask humble questions.

Strive to understand. Plant seeds that flower.

Speak more words that glow and bloom inside another being.

And when words come at you like weapons, disarm yourself.

Hold up a mirror. It’s hard to hear the hatred in another’s voice—

even harder to hear it in our own.

A thousand voices we think we don’t want to hear

are telling us the whole blazing glory

of the complete and complex human story.

-April 6, 2021
Sacred Heart Icons

April 1st, 2021

A heart ringed with a crown of thorns. On fire but not burning. A gentle-faced man calmly exposing the contents of his chest.

Napping on the cool satin bedspread in my grandmother’s back bedroom, the Sacred Heart of Jesus icon on the wall above me seemed poised to speak. I waited for the words while I drifted. Childish terrors of ghosts and monsters in the closet haunted me. My long ago deceased grandfather had slept in that room.

Decades later, I don’t have to imagine what death looks like. I’ve seen it, firsthand. But internal wounds still puzzle me, and I struggle to find the inner radiance that can heal them.

“A heart can be soft even when pierced,” iconic Jesus seems to say. “A human being can maintain a soul in a world full of hurts, rejections, defeats, betrayals, disappointments, tragedies, and horrors.”

There’s a way. It’s possible. But maintaining a soft heart might be the hardest thing we ever have to do. Thorns multiply one by one. Some are bigger and sharper than others.

Loss of innocence. Thorn. Burdens of pain, debt, responsibility. Thorns. Loved ones dying or leaving. Thorns. A body in decline. Thorn. War, famine, pandemic, hurricane, tornado, flood. Uncontrollable thorns. Scorn, injustice, prejudice, genocide. The thousand mistakes of a lifetime. Mishaps, regrets, violations and violence.

How many and how deep are your thorns?

Stories show us what can endure after the struggle attempts to destroy us. Thorns surround the castle where sleeping beauty lays waiting to be awakened. Before achieving resurrection, Jesus endures crucifixion with a mocking crown of thorns affixed to his head. Displaced migrants stumble through cactus searching for water and sanctuary in a place where hearts can be as barren as the land.

Maintaining a heart lit with love may be the greatest task. Life defeats us over and over again. We wall ourselves off. Sew the sutures tight, but the radiance within never diminishes. Radiance doesn’t belong to us or to the world of broken and breaking things. It’s a gift we’re given, and we can cultivate it or not.

The most essential work of being human is finding love again and again after we’ve lost it or had it stolen from us. We close up our glowing chests when it’s not safe. We shade the light because giving it away feels like death. But we are wrong. Giving our hearts away is the only thing that can resurrect us from the dead.

One day, all that will be left of us will be the radiance that we’ve put in the hearts of others.

Go beneath the breastbone of life and find the true work. May radiance meet you in the holiest of places. May you find resurrection within the chambers of the Sacred Human Heart.

-April 4, 2021
Introducing Radiance Within

April 1st, 2021

Radiance Within is meant to be the kind of blog you reach for when you need a quiet moment to peel away the layers of the day. My hope is that the writing and graphics feel as good as pajama pants, as inspiring as open windows, and as comforting as something savory or sweet baking in the oven.

I’m Radiance Writer. I grew up basking in jewel-colored light from stained glass windows, watching the sunset underneath the maple trees in my front yard, and filling notebooks with what inspired and intrigued me about the world.

Today my spiritual communities are peopled with yogis, stargazers, and lovers of Rumi and Mary Oliver poems.

My favorite and most universal spiritual practices are time spent outdoors, losing myself in writing and books, and putting pen to paper.

My hope is to share with others what brings me joy, transcendence, peace, and healing in a world that can be abrasive, harried, and anxious.

Throughout the day there are times when I need more than rest and relaxation. I need spiritual sustenance. I seek just the right books for the coffee table and the night stand, so I’ll have words and images to reach for when I get home or before going to bed. These books are the inspiration for Radiance Within.

Rather than providing a means of escape, Radiance Within offers an invitation to go deeper, even if you only have a few minutes to do so.

May you find solace and deep connection here.

Namaste.

Flower Moon

Hour of the Wolf

What’s Behind the Words

Sacred Heart Icons

Introducing Radiance Within