I'm walking down the sidewalk past the Methodist Church (one of four churches, I think, that I pass on my walk to the subway) when I remember this meditative singing, called Taizé, we used to do at the Methodist Campus Christian Center when I was in college.
Taizé is a lovely, calming practice of singing repetitive, chant-like hymns by candlelight until the mind and heart enter into a state of prayerful peace, and in remembering it, I thought how nice it might be to practice that again, to feel that connection to some higher power that is somehow simultaneously the dynamo at the heart of the universe, and yet also as personal and intimate as my own pulse.
And suddenly, as if it had been waiting for just such a cue, a spark ignites at the center of my chest, loving and longing, reminding me that I am connected, whether I know it or not, not only to the fire at the heart of creation, but to everyone I meet, to the sidewalk beneath my feet, to the sleepy trees ready for winter, to the crisp air that tugs at my hat and pushes me along the street.
"Yes," the spark whispers, waking from a long slumber, "it's Christmas."
One year ago: An Instinct For Empathy
Two years ago: HD Killed the Video Star
Three years ago: Everybody Needs to Learn Manners
Seven years ago: Save All Your Love
Ten years ago: Perspective
Post a Comment