This is another one of those days when I come to a blank screen and am not entirely sure how to fill it. The painter in me used to hate a blank canvas, yet strangely, when I write recently, I actually welcome the moment where I face the empty space.
I don't know about where you are, but the last few days have been rather rocky out here in the Upper Midwest. Wednesdays seem to have become our day of the week for storms -- what had been predicted to be a fast-moving, small snow "clipper" event turned into 6-12 inches, with wailing winds and impossible driving and walking conditions. I am grateful (as ever) to have chosen the contemplative life for now; but even a two-plus block walk to a church for a Lenten organ recital became a real Little House on the Prairie event! I'm at that age where putting my foot down and not knowing what's down there is truly scary. I was thankful to get back in one piece, and even to have the energy to do some shoveling, to pull out the trash bin to the road, etc.
Maybe the world has always been too much, but right now, is it ever, too, too much! My friends who have traditionally been involved in peace, justice, and other similar activities seem to be hitting hard personal walls. As a society, we had made so much progress, yet now much of it is melting away, particularly for women. Although I struggle with guilt, I'm rather glad that activism was not my calling. It was never about standing aside, but about my calling having been about trying to bring more beauty into the world through choral music, art, writing and crafts. Today, gone is the small degree to which I wanted to do these things to "fight" the world's ills/balance them out. Now, I want simply to be as beautiful as I can and exude peace for the sake of beauty and peace, not as a reaction to other people's choices. Our positive energies are a form of creative power, and those of us at a certain age shouldn't feel like failures at all (especially not in the middle of the night, as per my last post!) if we are not racing around creating, fixing, fighting, and/or distracting ourselves from our fears. Wouldn't it be lovely if every woman on earth could spend just one hour a day within herself -- lovingly "holding" her own beautiful heart and allowing it to grow? And if we could exude that energy of nurturing love even when we are watching distressing news programs or spending time with friends in crisis. Wouldn't it be lovely if we were not given the message that we're not doing enough, that Love itself is not enough.
I guess I am realizing that Creator/Creatrix Love is so much bigger than any motet that I sing, or painting I can paint, or essay I can write. It's even bigger than any human movement or societal cause. It's not a case of throwing up my hands and giving up on operating in the world, but a case of saying, from now on, it's the Love that is important, and that has to start from within. I cannot fix other people's lack of Love. Only they can -- from within.
