I believe in you! Join us in Celebrating the Next Thing for us to do!
Calling Through the Sands
I see so many images in this photo from my good friend, Deb McGhie. She took this picture along the walls of Antelope Canyon. When I first looked, I saw a heart and within the heart was a ray, a bright light beckoning, “This way, this way. I am here for you.” I posted the photo with an Eric Butterworth saying on forgiveness, for us to get out of our way and allow God through us to do the forgiving. That brought me peace. I shared this thought with my congregation in this morning’s Sunday Message.
Now I am revisiting this image. I see the side view of a woman’s head. She has a turban wrapped around her head. I can make out a partial image of her face as her head is turned away from my sight. I see the elongation of her neck that the turban falls to a shadowy-striped V just below her hair line.
Maybe she is working. Maybe she is undergoing chemo treatments. Maybe she is just as she is – I am the observer. And within that turban are three bright blue birds. These birds are likening to, “Mother, Maiden, Crone.” They speak to her. They guide her. Their bills are slightly open. The one in front has its eyes closed but its beak open. The one beside it is likewise in chorus. And the third one behind the other two is almost a shadow. Quiet. Maybe the other two are too noisy. Or maybe the third one will chime in when it is necessary. These birds are the woman’s messengers from the Gods, the Goddess, the one to whom she receives her wisdom. They are curled up within her and the Light shines through them too. Wow. Once I see an image, I cannot unsee it.
And in another image, I see a fist clenched tightly. Within this fist is the strength of one standing in his or her convictions. She is powerful. Determined. Radiant. Alive. Not wasteful. There is a world within this clinched fist of justice and equity. And the palm of that hand now reaches downward and if my imagination draws forward the true meaning – I see the outstretched fingers nearly blending as one as the palm is open to the dusty rose of the earth and the light beams hope at the tip of the thumb. It is a hard journey. Joy, Truth, Peace are its counterparts. And the palm spreads wide, reaching for this Truth. There is a golden wrist band at the end of the palm where the forearm connects. Gold. The Golden Threat of Truth and Life. Gently Mother Earth weaves her burdens, her sorrows that nearly peck at the hand in flashes of blue waves tinged with desert red and all fades into darkness. “Reach for it,” seems to be the Message. If you cannot stretch your hand into the unknown and trust the process, who will lead us? Who will reach out their hand, open and receptive for their Good? And show us the way.
What do you see?
In Joy-filled Wonderment,
Rev. Tracey Q.
