I’m picking a thread from this previous post.
That time I said, ‘Be the light’ is a surprising command. Command can work some of the time, as a short-hand reminder, a personal slogan.
Let me coax something more active, something more than being a good girl, a good citizen, a good person of faith. Questioning is the action word I want to invoke.
I submit to you dear reader some of my findings to the question ‘what does it mean to ‘be the light’, right now, mid-March 2025.
Being the light takes many forms. But one truth is that we **love** it. We have resilience enough to laugh and cry and then have a really good cup of coffee in the sun in a café, out of the March-y unpleasant gritty wind.
Abundance is not frivolous luxury. It is inherent to light.
He’s kicking up his heels, or so it seems.
Maybe because outside pickleball season has begun in an off/on kind way.
March is like that: a glimpse of relief and warmth and then it is harsh and clamps down, as if saying, ‘I’m not done yet.’
We kick up our heels anyway.
On closer inspection it appears to be a female ballerina warming up.
Perspective is a moving target.
Light is temperamental. I’ve walked by this scene a thousand times in all kinds of seasons and light and never noticed.
Today I am a medium for light, so I see more.
In our most involuntary moments we are the light. During seasons of searing pain and loss, we hold life and death in close proximity.
We get soft–searing pain and love and spontaneous gushing, like soft ice under a kid’s boot.
Light doesn’t know how to hold back.
This image does not do justice to darkness, but it’s the tree’s darkness not mine.
My darkness seems sinister and dense and gnarly and clenching, shaming, layers of hardened grief and abyss-ness –a knotted up type of darkness.
It seems that this tree monster was sent to me today from the light. Thank you, near-friend of light.
I hear you roar and even see you trying to hug the light. I am less afraid and more playful. I am being the light.
Bonus Light
I’ve been holding this image for over a year. This was at the New England Quilt Museum in the 2024 exhibit. There is so much I love about this quilt.
The maker: Sue Sherman from central Canada rendered pure light from the penguin’s light.
And then she passed it onto me.
