Love heals all things, all souls, all hearts. Remarkably, even the most brokenhearted have enough love to heal themselves, with love to spare. Let the love that is within radiate outwards and extend to all who are beloved and all who have caused injury. Pray peace, wholeness, well-being, love and joy in the lives of those who have caused the greatest hurt. Love abounds. And it will heal and transform and renew. Inhale. Exhale. Feel the love. Share the love. Just love and be loved.
I heard a poet take the words of a song and craft them into a new poem. It occurred to me that such a remix might be a form of midrash. There is a rabbinic principle that every word and indeed every letter of the scripture is sacred. If so, then what new (old) meanings might be revealed when loosing the words from their temporary bonds to their neighbor words?
I want my shepherd
the green of pastures
his still waters
your rod and your staff
a table with oil
goodness and mercy
long of life
the darkest valley I shall not fear no evil I walk through
lie down my soul in right paths comfort me in the presence of my enemies
the Lord is he makes he leads he restores he leads
you anoint me in all days
they prepare me
even though you are with me
for my head surely shall the whole house dwell in my cup before me
the Lord overflows for you and my name’s sake I shall
There is something luxurious about having the time to do exactly what I want. Work, vocation and labor can be so all-consuming that rest and leisure seem the exception and not the rule. I think the "Protestant work-ethic" has been twisted; living to work and working to live.
I am no dilettante. I need to work to survive. And I need to fulfill my vocation to thrive. Yet I'm discovering that time is a more abundant resource than I ever imagined, now that I have time to take time to take stock of my life and vocation.
This is what I have learned from forty days and forty nights of being on sabbatical.