Today, in my part of the world, is Ash Wednesday.
That sounds like a pretty simple statement. It kind of isn’t.
In fact, there’s a whole lot of math, and interpreted traditions, and even some astronomy, behind it. Or maybe it’s astrology. (I’m still learning!)
Anyway, Ash Wednesday, marks the beginning of Lent which, at its most basic, is a reflective journey toward Easter.
Whether you ate pancakes last night, or danced in the streets of New Orleans, or contemplated bridges and strategies like we did in Medicine Basket… unsticking stuck stuff, today is a movement toward newness. Every day is.
And newness does not always come easily.
There are a great many ways of marking this day. And a whole lot of we’ve always done it this way!
As is so often the case, we haven’t really always done much of anything the way we do it now.
I find that liberating, because it makes room for choices about both meaning and practice.
For me, what matters is intention.
My intention for this inner journey is to live healing and hope and fierce compassion, as best I can, in the world where we are.
My practice actually began on Sunday, when Bill helped to carry a badly broken favorite piece of art in from the porch.
She’d been hanging there for a while, after an unfortunate fall and a not terribly successful attempt at repair.
The photo, above, is what the world feels like to me. It’s not newly broken. It’s just that more of us are aware of it in these days.
Which might just be the beginning of hope!
For now, though, she’s been warming up. Adjusting to way less humidity, which is important for the repairs to come.
There’s a whole lot of work to do!
The cleaning starts next.
Here’s a better idea of where we’re starting…
Some of you may recognize her. She was born a painting.
Sandro Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus.
Some of you may know other stories about her.
Here’s one you don’t know…
She followed me home from a vintage & collectibles store, eight years or so ago. Along with a Miss Piggy lamp.
Really!
I knew why I needed Miss Piggy. My girls were coming to visit and I was fluffing up some space for them.
A very heavy statue of a Roman goddess rising out of the sea in a clam shell was not in the plan.
Oddly, though, she insisted.
So, Lent. Repairing a statue.
With my hands. And a YouTube video about this particular kind of surgery.
With my heart. And as much being fiercely compassionate hope as I can manage, even amongst the brokeness.
You’re invited along!
ps… for you Medicine Basket folks, 5 times around!
pps… stay tuned. Medicine Basket… unsticking stuck money stuff starts soon!