The Journey Begins Again . . .

A Northern Morning by Alistair Elliot from My Country:  Collected Poems (Carcanet Press)
It rained from dawn. The fire died in the night.
I poured hot water on some foreign leaves;
I brought the fire to life. Comfort
spread from the kitchen like a taste of chocolate
through the head-waters of a body,
accompanied by that little-water-music.
The knotted veins of the old house tremble and carry
a louder burden: the audience joining in.

People are peaceful in a world so lavish
with the ingredients of life:
the world of breakfast easy as Tahiti.
But we must leave. Head down in my new coat
I dodge to the High Street conscious of my fellows
damp and sad in their vegetable fibres.
But by the bus-stop I look up: the spring trees
exult in the downpour, radiant, clean for hours:
This is the life! This is the only life!

For those who mark the dates on the western church calendar, today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the Lenten journey.  Last year I posted a poem a day for Lent on this blog and offered a brief reflection and/or question.  This year I hope to continue that practice.   

Although Ash Wednesday is my favorite day on the Christian calendar, I chose not to attend a service or get ashes this year.  That doesn't mean that I didn't reflect on my mortality and brokenness.  Quite the opposite.  I discovered having a massage on Ash Wednesday is a great opportunity to be made aware of the fragility of this life and this body.  Every kink my massage therapist attempted to knead into some semblance of order served as a reminder.  I became keenly aware that one day the hamstrings that propel me on my walks through the park and the gluts that cushion me as I sit at my desk writing will one day return to dust. 

One of my friends said last night that the liturgy should be changed to remind us
that, according to recent scientific findings, we are stardust and to stardust we shall return.

 

Returning to stardust is a lovely thought.  Returning to Ziggy Stardust, not so much.
 (With apologies to David Bowie.)

Some people understand Lent to be a time when we are to adopt strict disciplines, deny our bodies.  The message coming to me this Ash Wednesday is to be more aware of and care more for my body.  For as Elliot writes, "This the life!  This is the only life!"  And this is the only body.

So how about you? What messages were you getting as you start your Lenten journey?