|Art by Jean-Pierre Weill from The Well of Being|
I'm a bit drained. Work is busy (good!) and we are in the midst of packing and purging.
Part of the packing process feels like an archeological dig: the book one kiddo made in the 5th grade, mementoes from 1st Communions, a forgotten photo from an ordinary day. It is bittersweet. I keep reminding myself that the memories are not in the things.
I thought this poem from Maya Angelou summed things up well.
"Touched by an Angel"
We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.
and in its train come ecstasies
old memories of pleasure
ancient histories of pain.
Yet if we are bold,
love strikes away the chains of fear
from our souls.
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Yet it is only love
which sets us free.