Lenten
Journey
“What
does it really mean that we are made from dust? I find it shockingly beautiful—the
idea that my life is drawn from the earth. Of course, that dust is made of
exploding stars and from all the life that has ever existed. It carries the
memories of billions of years, of immense wisdom, of lives lived long ago.”
Diana
Butler Bass (Forty Days with Grounded: A Devotional)
We have
entered Lent—the liturgical season in Christianity when we are supposed to humble
ourselves and seek to be forgiven for our “misspent lives.” That sounds like
drudgery, right? It begins with “dust to dust, ashes to ashes, from dust you
were made and to dust your will return,” and ends with the crucifixion. I think
it may be what prodded Mary Oliver to write these lines in her poem, “Wild
Geese”: "You do not have to be good/ You do not have to walk on your knees/ for a hundred miles
through the desert repenting…” We think of dust as inert, lifeless, almost
without substance. Fortunately, we are wrong.
Soil is
filled with life—dirt is more alive than most of us. In fact, the diversity of
life in soil is every bit as complex as what is within us. The law of
Conservatism of Matter states: “Matter can change form through physical and
chemical changes, but through any of these changes, matter is conserved. The
same amount of matter exists before and after the change—none is created or
destroyed.” And, since matter can be transformed but not destroyed, what
was here a million years ago, is still here. When our own bodies transform, we,
too, will remain, only in a different form.
That is
a comforting thought to me. I love the earth, and the natural world, and being
part of it would be a joy. All the people, animals and plants that existed in
Paleolithic times are in the soil of my garden, and yours; they are in our
mitochondria and in our chromosomes. Their being and way of life is planted
within us just like the seeds and nuts planted by the squirrels in my yard. All
life is already part of us, so we will simply be returning home.
Lent is
a season for contemplation—not necessarily about your sins, but about what you
want in your heart of hearts. What do you want to manifest in your life in the
coming year? What might be resurrected in you this Easter? What may be born
within you this spring? And what do you want to leave behind? In the inspired
words of Mary Oliver: “Whoever you are, no matter how lonely/ the world offers
itself to your imagination/ calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and
exciting/ over and over announcing your place/ in the family of things.” Lent
is a journey, and the path is before you.
In
the Spirit,
Jane
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