Musings will offer contemplations from Mirari: The Way of the Marys from now until Easter Monday


Holy Saturday 


My son had only hours to grieve for himself, to wish that the cup would pass him by, or to mourn the end of his time with his friends, and his soul’s connection to those who knew him most deeply. I had years. The world has had centuries. This grief is not only to mourn our beloved’s passing, but to mourn for a world that changed but could not see its change. P. 222


Now we mourn that the time of mobs and torture still exist, mourn that good men are still influenced to wrong actions, mourn that people still kill one another, mourn that the wisdom of women is still discounted, that women still deliver children into an unkind world, that men still righteously walk away, that people are still judged by the color of their skin, that sects still argue over one right way, and that the feminine continues to be cast aside by men. 

In this expansion and contraction of time, the new heart beats. In wholeness, the feminine and the masculine come together and are complete. The New Advent is the time of wholeness on its way with each in-breath and out-breath, the expansion and contraction of the womb of The New. It can only come in Mirari, the wonder in which wholeness abides within the imagination of it. There are no feet, no fists, no sky, no punditry. All is open, all is the one openness that creates The New without boundaries. P.227


Do not be distracted now by the arising. Stay with the descending. With the rescue. With the silence.

. . .T‍‍hese words come from the great silence. The great silence is like unto the silence of the soul that knows where it is meant to be. P. 231


I could not think of life until I grieved death. And so, I bring you the New Advent that will allow the grieving to begin so that the grieving can end. The grieving will gather in the women, distribute the feminine, and usher in The New. P. 231


I muse, in the silence of my soul, on the necessity of grief and its feminine nature. My soul is my awareness that I can know without words, know without assigning meaning to what I know, know without any authority other than my own heart. I know that, with the freedom to grieve, I can embrace all that I feel.

The entire world has spent over a year in the massive death toll of the COVID pandemic. We are a year beyond the rise of the Black Lives Matter movement. We are in a time of hope: vaccines more readily available, the death toll slowing. The trial prosecuting those who killed George Floyd has begun.

I believe that grief is part of knowing without thought, and sharing without sound. I have seen the necessity of grief’s pause, of grief before the glad rejoicing. I find hope in the allowance, and the passage, of grief. 



Image copyright SWPA.Photography