Holy Nights

In the darkness of the winter night, when the great breath of the Earth Mother finds its greatest point of inhalation, man is offered the grace to touch magic as well as wonder. In the pause between her powerful inhalation and exhalation, there is a point of rest. This still point has long been known as the Holy Nights.  Christmas Eve is the first of these Holy Nights, twelve in number.

In these blessed nights, the angels circle around the world as in a great cosmic dance. They long to speak to listening human hearts. Down through the ages, the "listeners" on earth have heard the choir of angels; they have received messages of Peace and Love. 

May we all be the "listening ones" during these Holy Nights.

Peace to you, my readers, Deep Peace.

Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve, 1513

I salute you. I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not got, but there is much, very much, that, while I cannot give it, you can take.

No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven!

No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instant. Take peace!

The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach is joy. There is radiance and glory in the darkness could we but see - and to see we have only to look. I beseech you to look!

Life is so generous a giver, but we, judging its gifts by the covering, cast them away as ugly, or heavy or hard. Remove the covering and you will find beneath it a living splendor, woven of love, by wisdom, with power.

Welcome it, grasp it, touch the angel's hand that brings it to you. Everything we call a trial, a sorrow, or a duty, believe me, that angel's hand is there, the gift is there, and the wonder of an overshadowing presence. Our joys, too, be not content with them as joys. They, too, conceal diviner gifts.

Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty - beneath its covering - that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven.

Courage, then, to claim it, that is all. But courage you have, and the knowledge that we are all pilgrims together, wending through unknown country, home.

And so, at this time, I greet you. Not quite as the world sends greetings, but with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you now and forever, the day breaks, and the shadows flee away.

"Letter to a Friend" by Fra Giovanni Giocondo, 1513

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Wishing my readers 

the deep magic of the season

peace and love 

and many blessings 

in 2018

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The Shepherdess

The night is cold: so cold and clear

that the bright stars above

seem closer: so close

that just by raising my hand

I can touch them. And I do.

They are my fingertip sparks.

I pull my cloak around me

for a little extra warmth.

But I am used to this hillside cold

where my wandering flock grazes

here among the wild rue and acacias

of the high pastures.

My flock and the circling stars are my companions,

and when I speak to my flock, I know

that they recognize my voice,

even know what I say to them.

At times I also speak to the high stars.

Then I must listen so carefully, so quietly

to hear the soft sighing of light

that is their astral language.

Not all can hear them, and even those who hear

that gentle sighing of the night

can know what is being said to them,

but I do, and I know that the stars understand me also.

Among my flock is a little one:

an orphaned newling, born out of season,

still uncertain of the world.

I feel her warmth beneath my cloak

and she feels my own warmth.

She is quiet now, asleep inside my cloak,

asleep beside my heart.

Tomorrow, when the stars are asleep,

I will carry her down the hillside,

down from these high pastures,

and we will both go into Bethlehem,

for that is what the stars tonight have told me I must do.

Painting The Shepherdess by Robert Gavin