X

Let in the Light

February 2, 2021

Let in the Light

By Amba Gale

When we, creatively, intentionally, consciously, “breathe in the light,” the darkness begins to dissipate. Can you hear and see and feel and touch the lightness now coming our way? If not, perhaps it’s time for you to turn your face away from the computer screen, as I was called to do, by the Red-tailed Hawk, and the breaker waves from North to South, and the sound of the winds in trees, and listen! Listen to a new song! Listen to a new Voice. Listen to the Music of the Wind. Listen to the possibility of Breathing.

Light dispels darkness. Where we place our attention gives us the world we inhabit. Place your attention on the light.

What does it mean to “be a child on this new day?” A child is playful, curious, OPEN to surprises, is delighted in everything he or she sees. A child has fun. A child laughs. Yesterday, as I was having lunch, outside, of course, at my favorite resort in the Northwest, I saw a child play by a man-made waterfall, picking up a leaf in the water, and, then, jumping up and down in joy for finding the leaf in the water, crying, “A leaf! A leaf! I found a leaf!” as he invited his sister to join him in the fun.

Can we live this way? Can we let in and experience the griefs of our past, and surrender to a new freedom, even as we complete the past, even as we call forth new possibility, even as we profoundly pay attention to a new world speaking to us? Children hear and see a world anew, in each moment.

And, then, there is the word, “still.” When that word belatedly came to me, after I thought the full poem had been written, I heard, in it, two meanings: one, the pull, the magnetization, the longing, the call to rest and “be still.” In stillness one can begin to hear a future of possibility. One can hear one’s inner voice, the voice of the poetic imagination, speaking, the voice of wisdom. And, another, perhaps, while we are still sequestered in our homes, for the most part, while it is not yet time to take long plane flights into new and faraway lands, perhaps this is a time for inner journeying, perhaps there is, “still, somewhere to go.”

Breathe lightly now. Let in the Light.

Perhaps this is a time for inner journeying >

Let in the Light

A sudden gust—

I hear the movement of the trees

calling me to give them my attention

telling me to turn my head from the computer screen

and stop

and look.

Time to be in the Wild once more.

What do I see?

The Red-tailed hawk lighting on a bush by the sea,

at one with the white breakers rolling in,

as if to say,

“Be out here,

be with the day.”

Everything is light.

Watch the white breakers

run from north to south, move swiftly on their way,

playing and dancing, gaily prancing.

They do not care that it is cold outside.

They are celebrating the wind.

Arrest yourself.

Pay close attention to the sea

as she calls you.

Be a child

on this new day.

And then there are the mountains,

kissing the sky,

while a lone plane

flies to the north east,

slowly, as if there were, still, somewhere to go.

The heaviness is gone.

The darkness is gone.

Breathing lightly now,

let in the light.

Additional Posts

September 15, 2021

Let the Way Open

Last summer, on a quiet day, a sailboat made its way past the island in front of our cabin. It seemed to glide effortlessly as it caught the wind, its sails billowing. The energy of the universe, and of Grace, moves through us in just that way. However, to tap into it, we need to raise our sails, as well. We also (and this is hard for most of us) must surrender, or let go of needing to control, which need stops us from accessing that flow. Sometimes, it is hard to let go of control. And it is exactly…

August 31, 2021

Wounded Healer

In David Whyte’s book, Crossing The Unknown Sea, Brother David Steindl‑Rast says to him, “The antidote to exhaustion is wholeheartedness.” What an amazing thought to ponder. This is a story about wholeheartedness. In the heart of the forest is a wounded tree. This tree is located in the magical, mystical forest of Glenstal Abbey, in County Limerick, Ireland, and we were led there by one of the Benedictine monks, Brother Anthony, who guarded the forest with his love. The tree was a total surprise. My husband and I were journeying with Turas D’Anam, which in Irish, means “Journey of the Soul,” in…

Return to Blog >
X

Join Us!

Subscribe to receive my weekly blog, news, updates & more.