Today I began my 60th journal. I have been keeping a journal since January 4, 1976, my 20th birthday. So today I decided to pick up that first book and read a few pages. Such a tender young thing I was: so much promise, so little experience of life, and such a burning desire that my life would count for something.
The road from there to here has been long, though it has passed in the blink of an eye. Sometimes narrow, sometimes wide, it has been anything but straight. The road of Life rises up to meet me, day after day, from the darkness of the unknown into the headlights of discovery, showing me just enough of the road ahead to keep me from crashing. Sometimes I still do.
This morning, in my yoga practice, it came to me that we cannot bring forth anything that counts in life unless we let Life penetrate us. And yet, we live with so much resistance, so much fear of allowing that. This morning, in my yoga-softened body, I could feel the gifts of these years. I felt my receptivity, my openness, my desire, my longing. I have longed for Life itself, and the feeling of taking it in like a really deep breath. I have allowed Life to penetrate me and to awaken the seed of The New Thing in my heart, time and time again.
To me, at this moment, this is the story of Christmas. It is the story of a young Hebrew girl chosen by Life to receive, to be fertilized, to give birth. Her baby, called Jesus, would grow from humble beginnings to shine a light in the darkness of the world, which still shines today.
Let’s, for a moment, take this out of the context of religion. What I want to share here does not require that you believe anything. I invite you, just for these few minutes, to explore the possibility that this is the story of us all. Read more…