Tag Archives: dreams

For Ash Wednesday: Ashes and 30 pieces of silver

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I hope you don’t mind if I revisit an old post (from March 2014) this Ash Wednesday. I don’t remember the exact timing of how everything fell into place March 2014, but I’m pretty sure I wrote this post shortly before my husband came home and told me his company was asking us to move. And move we did, all the way across the country. Talk about your seismic shifts.

I still find I want to dust myself off when I’m covered in ashes. I yearn for an easy answer and search for that shiny, clean (happily ever after?) place. I needed to revisit this post for myself, and it occurred to me that some of you might welcome this reminder, too?

Blessings to you this Ash Wednesday, as we enter into Lent and a season of penitence and waiting for the joyful message of Easter.

I had a lighter post planned, but it somehow didn’t seem appropriate for Ash Wednesday, a day of ashes and penance, the beginning of Lent, the time we set aside in the Christian calendar to remember the events leading up to Christ’s crucifixion, the weeks we set aside to draw closer to God in advance of Easter.

Last night, I became restless and couldn’t sleep, instead pondering the ways we live in ash heaps and sell our lives and dreams short for 30 pieces of silver. We settle for less than what God has planned and even resort to forcing events in our lives that were not what God hoped for us.

Judas Iscariot did this when he betrayed Jesus. Scholars say he was hoping to force Jesus to finally take up his sword and become the warrior Messiah that Judas and others had been awaiting. Judas betrayed Jesus in exchange for 30 pieces of silver, an amount that equaled four months’ wages. Not worth much, considering the outcome for Judas, who tossed the money back at the high priests before going out to hang himself.

One of my favorite stories involving betrayal is The Great Gatsby. Did you know that F. Scott Fitzgerald considered naming it something entirely different: Among Ash-Heaps and Millionaires? Fitzgerald recognized, and wanted his readers to see, too, that the separation between millionaires and those living among the ashes isn’t as great as our society might want us to believe. Jay Gatsby was popular and enigmatic but couldn’t escape the ash-heaps and betrayal in the end, despite all that his money could buy.

Sometimes we all end up covered in ash. And whether it’s the freeing ashes of penance or the weighed down ashes of our past, we rarely feel comfortable or comforted when covered in ashes.

And maybe that’s why we’re quick to sell out, to dust ourselves off for a mere 30 pieces of silver, to think it’s so easy to grab hold of our dreams and get to a shiny, clean place. But is the place we end up as clean and as shiny as we expected?

I’ve felt a disconcerting seismic shift in my life in the last few months, as if God is moving the underlying plates in my life, and last night, I wrestled to name the shift. I think it has to do with being covered in ashes from the past (not just my own past but others near me, too) and not wanting to take the 30-pieces-of-silver, forced way out. So I’ll wait to see what God has planned for me next. The waiting here is hard.

Just because I’m pondering ashes doesn’t mean I should leave you there, too, right? So if you recall last week’s post and my joy of an orchid bud, here’s what happened this week.

Orchidbloom_2014ft

I couldn’t resist sharing it, even if it has nothing to do with ashes and 30 pieces of silver. It does have everything to do with embracing life, though, and that’s what I plan to do while I’m waiting for God’s next move.

On poetry and place, and an Irish blessing for writers

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My thoughts have been on Ireland of late, probably because St. Patrick’s Day is fast approaching. I missed last year’s St. Patrick’s Day parade in Raleigh, one of the largest parades the city hosts each year. After the parade, an all-day street festival breaks out, and I’m always torn between hanging out at the festival or going home to watch the ACC tournament. It’s an easier decision if my team is already out of the tournament.

This year, I’ll miss the parade, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to find tournament coverage out here. If it weren’t for Duke (Coach K’s wins) and Syracuse (sanctions), I’m not sure the ACC would have made it into the papers here at all this season. But I digress.

Along with a daily devotion, I’ve also been spending time in the mornings reading through The Collected Poems of W. B. Yeats, a tome I brought home from Ireland several years ago. I could have easily bought it at home, but I wanted it to come with me from Yeats’ own country.

County Sligo—the setting of many of Yeats’ poems and the place where Yeats spent much of his youth—has embraced Yeats as its greatest poet, and you’ll find a Yeats literary trail throughout the county. County Sligo is one of my favorite places on this earth, mostly for its rugged beauty and friendly people, and seeing a place so embrace its native poet only endeared it to me even more.

I read a poem of his yesterday that instantly transported me to a churchyard in Drumcliffe in County Sligo.

CountySligo2006_FT

This sculpture beautifully interprets Yeats’ poem He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

The final line resonates with me. Artists share our dreams with the world in many forms, and we hope the world will embrace what we offer.

Several friends of mine have released new books this year, and one of the most prominent (if superficial) ways the world treads on these books is by inviting reviews on websites such as Amazon and Goodreads. Some reviewers tread softly, offering warm words and a four- or five-star review. Others stomp and crush with cruel reviews. If I were to offer an Irish blessing to my writing friends this year, it would look something like this:

May your light always burn bright.
May your pen’s ink freely flow.
May Amazon’s reviews bring only delight,
And silence the one-star review.

How about you? What dreams of yours do you hope the world will treat with kindness? What Irish blessings would you like to share with your friends to uplift them?

Will you celebrate St. Patrick’s Day by going to a parade or seeing Irish dancers or listening to some fiddle tunes? Maybe you’ll read a Yeats poem or two? If you do, I hope you’ll let me know your favorite lines. However you choose to celebrate, have a happy St. Patrick’s Day.

Ashes and 30 pieces of silver

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I had a lighter post planned, but it somehow didn’t seem appropriate for Ash Wednesday, a day of ashes and penance, the beginning of Lent, the time we set aside in the Christian calendar to remember the events leading up to Christ’s crucifixion, the weeks we set aside to draw closer to God in advance of Easter.

Last night, I became restless and couldn’t sleep, instead pondering the ways we live in ash heaps and sell our lives and dreams short for 30 pieces of silver. We settle for less than what God has planned and even resort to forcing events in our lives that were not what God hoped for us.

Judas Iscariot did this when he betrayed Jesus. Scholars say he was hoping to force Jesus to finally take up his sword and become the warrior Messiah that Judas and others had been awaiting. Judas betrayed Jesus in exchange for 30 pieces of silver, an amount that equaled four months’ wages. Not worth much, considering the outcome for Judas, who tossed the money back at the high priests before going out to hang himself.

One of my favorite stories involving betrayal is The Great Gatsby. Did you know that F. Scott Fitzgerald considered naming it something entirely different: Among Ash-Heaps and Millionaires? Fitzgerald recognized, and wanted his readers to see, too, that the separation between millionaires and those living among the ashes isn’t as great as our society might want us to believe. Jay Gatsby was popular and enigmatic but couldn’t escape the ash-heaps and betrayal in the end, despite all that his money could buy.

Sometimes we all end up covered in ash. And whether it’s the freeing ashes of penance or the weighed down ashes of our past, we rarely feel comfortable or comforted when covered in ashes.

And maybe that’s why we’re quick to sell out, to dust ourselves off for a mere 30 pieces of silver, to think it’s so easy to grab hold of our dreams and get to a shiny, clean place. But is the place we end up as clean and as shiny as we expected?

I’ve felt a disconcerting seismic shift in my life in the last few months, as if God is moving the underlying plates in my life, and last night, I wrestled to name the shift. I think it has to do with being covered in ashes from the past (not just my own past but others near me, too) and not wanting to take the 30-pieces-of-silver, forced way out. So I’ll wait to see what God has planned for me next. The waiting here is hard.

Just because I’m pondering ashes doesn’t mean I should leave you there, too, right? So if you recall last week’s post and my joy of an orchid bud, here’s what happened this week.

Orchidbloom_2014ft

I couldn’t resist sharing it, even if it has nothing to do with ashes and 30 pieces of silver. It does have everything to do with embracing life, though, and that’s what I plan to do while I’m waiting for God’s next move.

A new year’s day wish

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Happy new year, my friends.

I say that feeling a bit unsettled and regretful. You see, I’d like a do-over on the holidays. I have been sick since the Sunday before Christmas, and the last week and a half have been a fog. I am finally nearing the land of the living again, but … ah, what I’ve missed.

Family I don’t see often came to visit, and I loved having them in our home, and there are lots of good memories, but they’re all dulled by the haze of medicine and feeling miserable.

There’s vacation time that I should have been able to enjoy with my husband, but I didn’t feel like leaving the house for much of anything, and so he went on walks and hikes and runs while I recuperated and gathered strength.

There’s the knowledge that I had an okay (not great) running year but missed my unstated mileage goal by 12 miles, miles that I could have run in a single day had I been healthy. I haven’t run for a week and a half, though, and tomorrow may be my first very short attempt to get back to it. Too late for 2013, though.

There’s the looking back over a wonderful year in general but alighting on the less-than-perfect parts. The dreams deferred. The plans unfulfilled. The ways I let myself and others down.

Maybe that’s the beauty of January 1. We know that there are no do-overs. We are to stop looking back and step into a new year. We have this one day to plan and dream. Some of you make resolutions. Some of you may even follow through with your resolutions.

However you spend today, here’s my wish for you for the new year:

This year, may your life be a flourishing tree.
May you have more days of sun and gentle rain than storms and biting cold and searing heat.
May you be strong enough to weather the storms that come and flexible enough to bend when the winds blow fierce.
May you have moments of pure joy in the warmth of the sun.
May your roots be strong enough that you can support others around you and give without needing anything in return.
May you delight in those who shelter in your outstretched limbs.
May you greet each dawn standing tall and ready for what the day will bring.
May you experience moments of perfect calm and times of dancing.
May each season bring its best to you.
This year, may your life be a flourishing tree.

An island of flourishing trees

An island of flourishing trees

What are your hopes and dreams for the year ahead?

When the world is silent about your dreams

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“And do not be conformed to the world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect.” Romans 12:2

__________________

My husband and I have been TV junkies this week, thanks to the World Track & Field Championships going on in Moscow. There’s typically about four hours of live coverage for us to record overnight and then two more hours mid-day. So when we settle in for the evening, we take our dinner and sit on the couch and try to go through the six or so hours of coverage as quickly as possible. Afterward, I catch up on Facebook and Twitter, sites I dodge throughout the day so I don’t see outcomes of any of the race.

It’s an exciting week to be a track and field fan, but it’s frustrating, too. NBC never shows enough of the distance races, instead breaking up a lap or two here and there with field events and even a news story about anticipated trouble in the upcoming winter Olympics, which will be held in the Soviet Union. There’s a time and place for those stories, but right in the middle of a 10,000 meter race? Not the time.

I’ve also been struck by NBC’s poor announcing. I mean, I expect poor announcing in general from the network, because NBC seems unwilling to hire commentators who get excited about what they’re watching, but specifically, I’m shocked when they don’t even mention an American athlete’s name during a race. This is an American broadcasting company, and its commentators can’t bother to name all three Americans running in a particular race?

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