A solstice meditation for both hemispheres

Blessed darkness, mystery’s robe,
host of all that exceeds our sight,
sanctuary of the unknown,
today you hold us near.
This night, this longest night,
when mystery emerges
from her chambers to sing,
tonight we offer up to you
our certainty we see it all;
tonight you close our eyes
and bid us dream.
Come, precious darkness,
give us a world
that is more than we can see.
Come, gentle darkness,
and hold a space
for our humble candles
to warm our hearts,
for the smallest star to shine
and lead us to the manger.

            ——— (the Equator)————


Blessed darkness, womb and shelter,
rest for weary eyes,
today you begin your long return.
This day, this longest day,
we offer up to you
our looking and our seeking
for your treasure.
Come, healing darkness,
on this, our longest day of labors,
and bid us rest.
Come, enfolding darkness,
close our eyes, pause our searching
and calm our anxious hearts,
for the One we seek seeks us,
and comes, and in the turning light
turns our hearts toward the manger.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Zechariah got an angel.
Mary got an angel, came to her door.
Joseph had regular updates,
angelic GPS directions coming and going.
Even the shepherds got personal notification.
I don’t get angels.
No heavenly messengers sing to me,
point out the miracles, lead the way,
shine with glory, tell me what to do.
But I want to know what this means,
where to look, where to go, what to do.
How do I do this without angels?

God, give me faith to sit tight and listen.

And listen.

To listen to the voice of love
until I know,
and then
to listen to the voice of love
until I sing.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Yes, I who stir the star-whirls with a finger
have considered, I have pondered well
what it might be to plunge into not just
the human form but substance, single life:

risk being lost, alone, abandoned (me!)
feel loss or guilt, or suffer being wrong,
betray and be betrayed, with shame and grief,
to hurt, to doubt, and not to know—not know!—

to try and fail to understand myself,
to feel and sometimes fear it, and to find
myself undone, unable to go on.
To weep. To love so hard it wounds…. To die.

I know this. Yet a life removed from life
I will renounce to feel the touch of you,
and wonder, and the miracle of love
unearned but given and received in joy.

I forfeit my defense, surrender all,
and fragile now, as if a newborn child,
stripped bare and swaddled only in my love,
I seek you.
                   I am coming.
                                         I am here.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Coming on winter,
        the cold circles overhead, a bird of prey.
The sun hesitates before rising,
        crawls up slowly through the plundered trees.
The branches seem more supplicant now,
        more clearly in need, and begging, reaching.
Yet look closely: the oaks already hold next spring’s buds,
        little fetal fists, nubs that snub the cold.
They know.
        They are ready.

Might I trust that within me, too,
        even in cold and dark times,
buds of new life already curl
        around some invisible knowing,
ready?

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

Joseph, trapped on this side of the gulf,
for holiness unfolds beyond you,
now affirm what you cannot know,
say yes and go silent;
stand by faithfully.

Mary, trapped on the far side of the gulf,
for holiness grows within you,
now trust what no one but you can know,
say yes and sing your song;
open yourself faithfully.

Others will not know
and claim loudly to know, and judge,
and you will smile silently,
tip your head slightly to the side
and carry on and not abandon your Beloved.

So, bewildered, we find ourselves enfolded
in the blessed mystery of grace promised,
outrageous belief that in our pains and labors,
in our unknowing, in the cells of our loneliness,
something magnificent unfolds in us without us.
Knowing only how we believe and not what,
without turning back,
we lay ourselves in God’s dark hands.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

A thin skin of ice on the pond
comes and goes, an eye opening and closing.
Soon it will tire and stay closed.
The cattails rattle along the shore,
the red twig dogwood has nothing to say.
Sedges have bowed their heads
for the long prayer service.
There is no fear here.
Little creatures, and some great ones, have gone in.
The oaks hold their secrets tightly.
The last geese row, patient, across the pond of sky.
They know where they’re going.
The squirrels trust their hoards,
the nuthatches, the finches know
where to find things,
the chickadees know their songs.

I believe we can learn to trust
what is to come,
and what will come after that.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

The lift and drop of the headlines.
The drift of nations in and out of sanity.
The world stumbling toward its fate.
I will be there.

The school,
and the streets between your house and the school,
and the child who walks there.
I will be with you.

The argument,
the deep gnawing fear for a relationship on edge,
the brown weight of guilt.
Beloved, I will be near.

The waiting room,
the moment in the car before you go in,
and the child sleeping in her crib.
Yes, I will be there.

The soup, simmering,
and the wooden spoon beside the soup,
and the sock drawer.
I will be with you.

There will be the starry night,
and there will be all the others;
the light from the stable,
and all the stables with no miracles,
the days without end:
yes, always,
I will be with you.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           They shall know that I am YHWH their God,
           who brought them out of the land of Egypt
           that I might dwell among them;
           I am the Holy One their God.
                           —Exodus 29.46

           “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son,
           and they shall name him Emmanuel,”
           which means, “God is with us.”
                           —Matthew 1.23

We like to say Jesus “came down from heaven”
to show us how much God cares.
But Jesus did not “come from away.”
God doesn’t live in heaven.
Ever since the Exodus God has lived among God’s people.
Christ’s advent is not so much an arrival as an emergence,
the divine glory hidden in our midst suddenly visible,
our unity in love exposed by one who is one with us,
God’s compassion secreted away in our hearts
breaking out into the open.
This is the revelation that comes to us so often late,
after the dusty journey, on our way out of the hospital,
on the other side of the treacherous bridge,
at the victory party and yes, the funeral:
that God was with us all along.
This is not news; yet we are just now opening our eyes.
The Beloved is always drawing near
and we are always, always waking up.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           God, you have shown strength with your arm;
                      you have scattered the proud
                      in the thoughts of their hearts.
           You have brought down the powerful from their thrones,
                      and lifted up the lowly.
                                      ——Luke 1.51-52

Oh, Mary, you know perfectly well
how revolutionary this is,
how the power structures fight this,
how the world is opposed to God.
And you know in the fight
you will lose much.
Give me courage, Mother of Love,
to stand against the powers,
that they might be brought down,
to use what I have to lift the lowly,
to find my strength not in my powers
but in your love
that brings us all into one circle,
all your Beloved.
Mary, may your vision be my hope
and my courage.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net

           Be patient, therefore, friends, until the coming of the Beloved.
          The farmer waits for the precious crop from the earth,
          being patient with it until it receives the early and the late rains.
                           —James 5.7

           I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer,
           believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.
                           —Mark 11.24

Remember this: the Israelites celebrated Passover before they left Egypt.
The Psalms praise God for mercy before it is granted.

Faith is the paradox of the future perfect tense:
God’s will shall have been done.
The future is packaged into the present.

Therefore, beloved, be patient with what you long for.
God is with you even when you don’t know,
working even when you can’t see.
Present in a way that is unfolding.

Remember this when night is thick,
when prayer is empty, or faith is dry.
nothing happening, like winter,
its invisible seeds and roots.
God is here.

God is not “coming.”
It is I who am sinking deeper toward God.

__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net