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Commentary: Sext
Sext is the prayer at high noon in the liturgical cycle, So spring totters momentarily on the brink in its vulnerable lilac ecstasy, as its new shoots and delicate green give way to the sturdy and fully embodied business of summer. And our lives take on the same solidity, now fully identified with the drama and the meanings we have come to assign to ourselves. And our only reminder of what is lost is our own nostalgia for something we can't quite place; that keeps us looking backward to that 'lost moment,' never again beheld. And yet.... The secret is that we have never lost this sempiternal moment of creation and mystery; we have never left it behind. We are always living it, right into the dream of summer and fall. It is the very Dreamer. We are the freshness of morning playing out our role as high noon, later as dusk. We are the moment of birth, peering out of the eyes of a fading old man. We are springtime, dreaming its way through summer; dreaming its way into the fruiting of our own fields; into the unfoldment of all cause and consequence; into the blessing we may leave behind as our individual fruiting falls and seeds another time; into the voices of the scythes that tell us: this summer is done. We are death and rebirth. In all of this there sleeps the glorious story of who we really are; of what is at play here in the fields of the Lord. We are always at play, a play that engages and demands all the heartfelt intention and seriousness of our life. And now, as we awaken, we are free to play with all the affirmation of our being. Sext || Back to Writings |
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