A Morning of Truth

Inspired by the sun, and the intense and vivid colors behind my eyes, I felt I might have the strength to keep going. I wondered if I should reach out to my grandmother and ask her if I might sit with her in church this morning... this is very uncharacteristic of me.

I stepped outside with a book and a glass of water and felt the tears well up in my eyes. Unlike before, I did my best to embrace them and gazed again at the sun. My hands moved in a slow but restless motion to open the book, and my eyes met this passage:

"Light is the mother of life. The sun brings light or color. It causes grasses, crops, leaves, and flowers to grow. The sun brings forth the erotic charge of the curved earth; it awakens her wild sensuousness. In this Gaelic poem, the sun is worshiped as the eye and face of God. The rich vitalism of the Celtic sensibility finds lyrical expression here."

The eye of the great God,
The eye of the god of glory,
The eye of the king of hosts,
The eye of the king of the living.

Pouring upon us
     At each time and season,
  Pouring upon us
     gently and generously

Glory to thee
     Thou glorious sun.
  Glory to thee, thou son
     Face of the God of life.

The truth has been spoken. I only hope that we can both move forward with whatever bumbling grace and respect we can muster, and begin to disassemble our lives...

untangle.