15 February, 2015

Our last, quiet moments of celebration. The very sands I begged race through the hourglass before the doors of our Great Hall opened I have implored to slow these past nine days. You’ve all brought such gifts; you arrived with light in your cupped hands and I drank it down greedily, gratefully. I have forgotten myself in your presence, laughed more, danced more, shared more, listened more. I am changed by joy.

Joy … Such a small word. Three letters only, a single syllable. And yet … full, full to the brim and spilling over.  A powered force through our clasped hands; a voice singing out from our circle: we are large; we contain multitudes.  We belong to one another.

Joy … It, too, is a circle. Anticipation, arrival, appreciation … the privilege of your company … the bittersweet surrender to our farewells, then … silence, a silence underscored with music, and the anticipation rises yet anew …

For we will be together again.  

Our bond is a magical ribbon, a Möbius band, side out turned in, beginningless, endless, its simple mystery merely a twist … giving it one surface, one edge … leading but one direction – home. 

Know this: every step you take away from these tunnels is a step in return. You carry with you the heart, the mind, the promise of this place; the light within you will lead you out … and back to me.

Go now. Take joy from my cupped hands. And remember – you are here and I am here and together we make a world. 

Father

with gratitude to David Whyte and Carrie Newcomer for inspiration