Epiphany

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December 26th
One person had posted:

How soon are you taking down Christmas?

Replies came quickly:
“DONE!”
“Today!!”
“So over it!”
“Already packed away!”
“Finished with this year.”

This year, this tired old year
of lockdown,
pandemic, and madness–
perhaps it
can’t end soon enough,
but I’m long-lived and learning
to breathe, to scrutinize reflections, to consider
the opposite of impulse and inclination.

Am I finished with this year?

I carry my questions
like a newborn, and travel
the landscape of my life:
city blocks of memories,
neighborhoods of years,
buildings crammed with months, and
just here, walking down December hallways,
I encounter my mother and grandmother,
wise women, spirit magi,
stepping out from doorways to enlighten,
one on either side of me.
“Life
is meant to illuminate.
Don’t let go of it all
so quickly.
Wait.
Sift.
Listen.
Epiphanies will come.”

And I stood in their light,
and knew.

A lifetime of sparks, flashing, but rarely
did I recognize my magi, all things,
everywhere: the passing word, choirs,
the overlooked stranger, the loss,
the leaf, the heat, this moment, the next,
messages streaming
from bag-ladies, blackbirds,
the screaming child, the exit sign,
the cruel lover, the doubting nun,
the wisdom in stories
told at tables lit by love…memories
all my memories,
so much wisdom shining,
overlooked,
strewn on my path,
impeding my progress
to new years; why weren’t
they ever new?
They felt like
every year that came
before
I rushed through
their front doors, insight and mystery
glowing unseen, the regret
of a busy life, of flying
past gift, such gift.

In my December hallways
the wise women said,
“Life is meant to illuminate.”

And, if we missed
the invitations
to break open and be new,
they’re still arriving,
new magi meeting us
now, and now, and
the wise ones,
waiting
in the hallways of memory,
still part of us, still offering
the chance to stand in light
and transfigure.

And this virulent year?
I won’t let go its hand
till all its darkness whispers
wisdom in my ready heart:
how fear summons tempests
only an infant held
at the breast can calm,
how sorrow
compounds to tonnage
only a cardinal
slicing through snowfall
can lift,
how one disease
reveals deeper and many,
and none are healed
if any are denied.

This moment,
this season, this year,
this tired old year,
this mighty magus,
we can’t
let it go too soon.
Wait. Sift. Listen.
Receive its
brilliant epiphanies

and illuminated,
transform.

© Copyright of all visual and written materials on The Daily Round belongs solely to Catherine M. O’Meara, 2011-Present. Unauthorized use is strictly prohibited, without the author’s written approval. No one is authorized to use Catherine O’Meara’s copyrighted material for material gain without the author’s engagement and written permission. All other visual, written, and linked materials are credited to their authors. Thank you, and gentle peace.

And when you’ve bid farewell to 2020, I wish you bright blessings and epiphanies in the year ahead.
Joy to your hearts from all of us at Full Moon Cottage.

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13 thoughts on “Epiphany

  1. Yes, the body and mind has many ways of digesting and passing on. Let it be done in a healthy manner. Thank you for your wisdom.

  2. Aaaahh, Kitty – you and your wise words! How right you are; we always have much to learn, and what better time to reflect than in this evening when the year at hand surrenders to the next. Your writing is so evocative of things in my past! Your magi in the doorways reminded me of my grandfather’s spirit so visibly standing in the doorway of his bedroom in our house, not that long after he had passed over. I was frightened then, being so young. Now I wonder what his message was to me? Maybe just a reminder that I could see. As do you.
    Thank you for gracing our world with your words, Kitty. And for the great photo of your pooches – love it, love it, love it. All the best,
    Jeanne

  3. Ha! I see we were cross-commenting: blessed minds thinking alike. 🙂

    Thank you for sharing the story of encountering your grandfather’s spirit…so many of my patients used to share such stories with me, yet, because they were often elderly and feared being perceived as “demented,” felt they couldn’t be shared with their own children. That always made me both grateful, to be the one with whom they shared their sacred stories, but sad, too, because they “stopped” with me, and I believe so strongly that the world needs to hear them. So thank you for that, and blessing, as you continue to explore its meaning for you.

    Thank you for your kind wishes and great joy to you as well. Thank you for shining your gifts so generously and brightly in the world, Jeanne.

  4. So beautiful, wise and filled with insight! I love that photo of all the dogs! That has me smiling. Happy New Year to one and all. Love and huge hugs.xxxx

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