Daily Dose (April 2 – 5)

This week, Sojourner Truth’s wonderful affirmation. “Life is a hard battle anyway. If we laugh and sing a little as we fight the good fight of freedom, it makes it all go easier. I will not allow my life’s light to be determined by the darkness around me.”

Seeing and embracing that inner light, even in the dark (and even in broken) places. To honor it by laughing, singing, and yes, dancing. Letting it shine.
I liked this, from Rabbi Dr. Ariel Burger, “My mantra this year has been the Hebrew words, Lev Basar, which means ‘a heart of flesh,’ from the biblical verse, ‘I will take from you a heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.’
Rebbe Nachman of Breslov, ‘There’s nothing as whole as a broken heart.’ In these traditions, you cultivate a broken heart which is very different from depression or sadness. It’s the kind of vulnerability, openness, and acute sensitivity to your own suffering and the suffering of others that becomes an opportunity for connection.” Yes indeed, Martin Luther King’s reminder, “Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly. I can never be what I ought to be until you are what you ought to be. This is the interrelated structure of reality.”
I confess that when I’m down, I’m susceptible to an internal grilling, “Does what I do even make a difference?” Is my light even enough?
And I have found that this question messes with me only when I assume that something is missing from my life. Or that I need to prove something to someone.
In those moments, I’ll remember Clarissa Pinkola Estes’ wisdom that “Ours is not the task of fixing the entire world all at once, but of stretching out to mend the part of the world that is within our reach. Any small, calm thing that one soul can do to help another soul, to assist some portion of this poor suffering world, will help immensely.”

“There’s a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter. We sometimes lose sight of this force when there is suffering, too much pain. Then suddenly the spirit will emerge through the lives of ordinary people who hear a call, and answer in extraordinary ways.” From the film “Mother Teresa”

WEDNESDAY —

Seeing his daughter dance, inspired Rev. Moss to share the message that we need love to keep us from getting lost in distraction. We need love to keep us from falling into despair. We need love to help us restore ourselves, get back into harmony with ourselves, so we can last through dark nights.
“Dance,” he urged his congregation. “Dance in the dark!”  (Dancing in the Darkness)

You’ve gotta love it.
Here’s the good news: Out of the soil of hatred and tragedy, hope can grow. And not just hope. But a voice of hope, for those who have no voice.
Knowing the power that no act of kindness (celebrating and honoring the dignity of life, of every life), however small, is ever wasted.
And yes, when I would see malevolence (whatever spills darkness), I always thought someone should “do something about that.” Then I realized, I am someone.
So, there is a choice: Distancing and withdrawal, or wholehearted immersion (showing up with dance).

Makayla (Rev. Moss’ daughter) dancing in the darkness reinforces this invitation to go toward life.
We can never pretend that darkness (whether loss or sorrow) is not real, and sometimes shattering.
But here’s the deal: Those who do not foreclose on their heart are heroes to us all, and become lights in a dark world.
Here’s our invitation. “Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.” Thank you, Iain Thomas.
Recently I read The Bright Hour by Nina Riggs, her memoir of her final months with cancer. There is no shortage of heartbreak and sadness. But neither is there a shortage of tenderness and lightness and laughter (and yes, even hilarity). One of my favorite stories is about the plan she and a friend had, to design morbid cancer patient thank you cards. “Thank you for the tuna casserole, it worked even better than my stool softeners.”
Yes, you’ve gotta love it.

Let us embrace Sojourner Truth’s wonderful affirmation. “Life is a hard battle anyway. If we laugh and sing a little as we fight the good fight of freedom, it makes it all go easier. I will not allow my life’s light to be determined by the darkness around me.”

THURSDAY —

“There’s a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter. We sometimes lose sight of this force when there is suffering, too much pain. Then suddenly the spirit will emerge through the lives of ordinary people who hear a call, and answer in extraordinary ways.” From the film “Mother Teresa”
Here’s the deal: Every single one of us can (and is invited to) dance in the dark, and shine a light in a dark world. Of course, in the darkness, we feel the (our) brokenness, and easily assume that is all there is to the story. We don’t know what to do with the sense of vulnerability.
So. The word vulnerable itself comes from the Latin vulnerare which means “to wound,” and so at the root of vulnerability is my own sense of wounded-ness. To be authentic in a moment in which I feel wounded, I have to honestly acknowledge the places where I feel hurt and then muster up the strength to just be with the pain. This takes tremendous courage.
Literally speaking, courage comes from the Latin cor, meaning heart. So, when I open up to any experience fully, with courage—whole hearted—it naturally opens me up to a deep love. And the good news? The blind musician Facundo Cabral said it beautifully: “If you are filled with love, you can’t have fear, because love is courage.” True vulnerability, in its most profound form, is an act of love.
Dancing in the dark indeed.
Richard Rohr reminds us that, “It is woundedness transformed. You still carry your scars forever, as both message and trophy. They still ‘hurt’ in a way, which keeps you mindful and humble, but they no longer allow you to hurt other people. Pain transformed is no longer pain transmitted.”

In other words, pain transformed becomes a dance that fuels a fire that changes the world around me. After Nelson Mandela was released from prison he ran for office and was elected President of South Africa in 1994. His message? Forgiveness.
I gotta admit, that’s not a common political platform these days.
And then cynicism abounded. Many assuming that his declaration was lip service. And yet, something within his core allowed him to rise above situations, and surprise others with strength. He began with his staff, keeping both Afrikaners and Black. There was understandable tension.
In a scene from the movie Invictus, Nelson Mandela models the behavior, telling his guard (who was certain this new integrated South Africa would not work):
“The rainbow nation starts here
recognition starts here
forgiveness starts here too
forgiveness liberates the souls
it removes fear
that is why it is such a powerful weapon
so please, try.”
Keeps my hope alive. Nelson took a bite out of apartheid.
Keeps my hope alive… wholehearted light in the darkness. Yes. We can take a bite out of apathy. Out of intolerance. Out of small-mindedness. Out of unkindness. Out of cruelty. Out of shame. And out of fear.

FRIDAY —

The Rev. Samuel “Billy” Kyles (civil rights leader) used to tell the story from the time when gas powered the streetlights. A little boy who was supposed to be in bed watched out the window as a city employee lit the lamps.
He ran to his mother and father and said, “Come here, quick.”
“Why are you up?” they asked.
“You have to see this! There’s a man outside. He’s punching holes in the darkness!”
Revered Kyles explained, “That’s your role: To punch holes in the darkness.”
And I’ll say, Amen.
And this can be our Easter Season affirmation: I know I can punch holes in the darkness, for I know that resurrection is possible, and the dawn is coming.
(Thank you Otis Moss, Dancing in the Darkness)

As I write this, I’ve been reading follow-up stories to the deaths of the seven World Central Kitchen aid workers in Gaza. My heart hurts, and I wonder, where are the holes in the darkness. My spirit struggled today to find hopeful place to rest. And I’m grateful for a couple of good “do the heart good” moments. Reminding me of healing spirits that are more powerful than the darkness.

The first, I’m listening to the Allman Brother Band. And letting Soulshine make me smile big.
“I grew up thinkin’ that I had it made
Gonna make it on my own
Life can take the strongest man
Make him feel so alone
Now sometimes I feel a cold wind
Blowin’ through my achin’ bones
I think back to what my daddy said
He said, ‘Boy, in this darkness before the dawn
Let your soul shine
It’s better than sunshine
It’s better than moonshine
Damn sure better than rain
Yeah, now people don’t mind
We all feel this way sometimes
You gotta let your soul shine
Shine till the break of day’”
(Song written by Warren Haynes)

And this, we’ll call it our punching holes in the darkness “prayer” from Rabbi Sharon Brous (The Amen Effect).
“That is precisely what we must now do. Put to rest an old story—loneliness, isolation, polarization, and extremism, broken politics, and ailing spirit—and in its place, lay the foundation for a new story. One in which we see each other in all our bruises and all our beauty. See each other, not despite our own broken hearts, but precisely because our hearts are broken too. See each other not only because we can, but because we must. Say ‘Amen’ to one another’s sorrow and celebration because we understand that’s what it means to be bound up in the bond of life. And because we know that is the only way to build a society of love and justice, worthy of each and every one of us. Amen.”

I write this on April 4. On April 4, 1968, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. was assassinated. We lost a fierce civil rights leader that day, but have not lost sight of his vision. As we honor his life, we recommit to continue his work of justice for all.

Prayer for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday…
To Come Home to Yourself
May all that is unforgiven in you
Be released.
May your fears yield
Their deepest tranquilities.
May all that is unlived in you
Blossom into a future
Graced with love.
John O’Donohue
To Bless the Space Between Us

Photo… Walking the asphalt driveway near the house, stopped to smile big at a pansy, finding its way to the light from a crack, broken place. The bloom was less than one half inch in size, easily missable if not on the lookout for small gifts of wonder… And I’m so grateful for your photos, please send them to [email protected]