Like these prayer flags–seemingly at the mercy of the elements–we will lift our faces toward the sun, humble but fervent in expressing our best hopes, prayers, and dreams for each other and the world.
Peace, peace, peace.
I hold my face in my two hands
My hands, hollowed to catch what might fall from within me
Deeper than crying
I am not crying
I hold my face in my two hands
To keep my loneliness warm
To cradle my hunger
Shelter my heart, from the rain and the thunder
Preventing my soul from flying in anger.
— Thích Nhất Hạnh
My thoughts are with Parisians this morning, in the aftermath of last night’s violence. In solidarity and sorrow, I add my own prayers to the collective: May we meet violence with compassion, directed toward all those whose lives were shattered. In this period of confusion, may wiser heads prevail, thus allowing peace be restored, within and beyond any man-made borders. Now, as always, nous sommes tous les Parisiens.
As I watch the news coming out of Japan this morning, I’m overcome with a great and terrible awe. The magnitude of this devastation is unspeakable, the personal tragedies unimaginable. I feel as if I’m witnessing something more powerful than I’ve ever observed–something with broader implications than I could ever see, given my limited vantage point.
Mother Nature’s speaking volumes, isn’t she? She’s been whispering warnings for a long while now, but now she’s using her Outside Voice. With that kind of wakeup call, how can you help but listen?
I find myself at a loss for words, wholly unable to express the magnitide of my concerns, nor the depths of my sorrow. Maybe that’s all for the best. For aside from opening our hearts (and wallets), this seems a good time to sit quietly, in prayerful meditation.
