Artist Maureen White, who comprises the whole of my (Helena) Montana fan club, hand-painted these gorgeous wooden Easter eggs and sent them to me as a gift. They arrived in the mail Saturday, each individually wrapped, taped, and nestled in a bed of shredded grass-green paper. In the accompanying card, she suggested I might want to give one away and immediately I thought NO WAY. I am keeping them all...
But seriously, I can't imagine an Easter present that would have touched and tickled me more. You can see more of Maureen's work at urbanpasturesart.com.
Holy Week always wears me out, in a good way, as it's designed to do. This year I thought Why not actually observe it, instead of writing about observing it, and have kept online activity to a minimum. So I went to Mass every day, and hung out with lots of fellow sober drunks for an hour or so every day, and more and more I see it (whatever "it" is) is all about coming alive. It's about our hearts being broken open and getting a kick out of each other and giving ourselves a break. Period.
Oh wait, it's also about lettuce green and matte gold and madonna blue and blood red, about stars and lilies and lambs and pain deep beyond words and anxiety unto death and "allelulia" written in shiny dark blue paint edged with gold on the side of a wooden egg. And a card that says, "Thank you. Thank you for writing about God, mystery, faith, laughs, and a lot of other things."
Lately at night I see these weird red flashes at the very edge of my peripheral vision. Of course i'm convinced it's a brain tumor--I have an apptment with the opthamologist--and I'm not even angsting. In a way, death would be a gift--not that I want to die. At all. But the gift of age, if you're lucky, is you just start to see Oh, the whole thing is going to carry on. The young folk will carry it on. The sun will come up, the jacarandas will bloom every April, they're going to figure it out, somehow. How to patch things up. How to carry it on.
Even if I died tomorrow, I got to be sober. I got to rejoice that another last sheep was found. I got at least a little corner of what it means to love and not expect anything in return. "I will not let Thee go until Thou bless me." Life has blessed me and just for today, I get to let go of trying to control it. That's another gift of age--you just quit trying to control the whole thing. In fact the more alive you are, the less you want to fritter away your energy trying to control anything.
Plus, by the way, I plan on living to at least 90.
HAPPY EASTER, BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!!!
|THE LIGHTING OF THE PASCHAL CANDLE|
DOWNTOWN L.A. CATHEDRAL, EASTER VIGIL
|MORE SCENES FROM THE CATHEDRAL|
DARK CHOCOLATE PEANUT BUTTER CUP.
HE IS RISEN.