Moving Forward

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Why aren’t we terrified to get out of bed in the morning? How is it that we can send our beloved children to venture out into the world on their own? Where do we find the courage when, like this past week in Boston, our world erupts in violence and a fog of fear descends? How is it that even when it is our own disaster, when we are at the epicenter of the storm, we carry on, eventually, finding at least a modicum of joy again?

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That light can eventually penetrate the darkest night of the spirit, fascinates and inspires me. Religion is the key for many, but I find no comfort nor convincing explanation there.  I’ve seen up close, soldiers wearing the icons of their religions, pumping their AK47s in the air as they sped towards the front line, off to kill and maim under the guise of the superiority of their own belief.  The righteousness that religion inspires feels divisive and dangerous to me and personally, I find no comfort in it.

No, what fascinates and moves me is the grace to be found in uncertainty. The ability we have to move on in our not-knowing. To just keep moving. It seems that this is what survivors do – (and we are all eventually survivors) as dark as our individual night might be, instinctually, as long as we might cling to sleep, wish for our own oblivion, eventually, a crack of light breaks through.

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It is this transcendence of the human spirit that touches me. Passing through the darkest siege, even with awful losses, violent memories, we continue. Time — terrible, wonderful, time keeps us shifting forward through the bleakest winters, through the insanities of war. And one day, we meet the spring – more beautiful than we remember – we go on, stepping forward, into and beyond the fear. A force of nature, of spirit, of love. A beautiful mystery.

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6 Responses to Moving Forward

  1. Lea Sylvestro says:

    A piece to touch the heart…and a photo, radiance in blue, that is so ethereal, so spiritual, and so hope-inspiring. My son lives in Boston – was in lockdown all yesterday. Spoke of how surreal it all was. How often in the past eight months has it felt like the stuff of movies, of OTHER countries and other people’s lives, have invaded our familiar territories? Sandy, Newtown, snowstorms, personal sadnesses, and now Boston. And somehow, we roll it in…

  2. Linda Urbach says:

    Thanks for the light and the blog

  3. That’s a co-incidence, I’m reading a book called Living with Uncertainty’ ! Beautiful words and I really like the way the images work with it.

  4. Tricia says:

    Is that a Pena chodren?

  5. Tricia says:

    iPhone autocorrect! Wrong!

  6. robert reynolds says:

    the bee sting hurts but fades away unlike the eternal beauty of a chance glance of a passing butterflie…

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