“If the angel / deigns to come /it will be because / you have convinced / her, not by tears / but by your humble / resolve to be always / a beginner."

                                                                                                                                  –Rainer Maria Rilke

Note: weekend essay offered by guest contributor Liz Sorensen Wessel.

There is a natural rhythm to this Holy dance of life, of days turning to night and returning to greet us anew. A kaleidoscope of Divine patterns manifest in movement and stillness. We know that our heart faithfully contracts and pauses between each beat. We see how the miraculous in and out flow of our breath mirrors the ebb and flow of the ocean waves.  We are like stars in the night sky, traveling in a circular motion of birthing and dying, of rising and setting with the sun, of unlimited endings and beginnings. In our turning, we intersect and connect to create the most beautiful song in all the universe; the irreplaceable song of our lives.

Our days can accelerate in a hectic pace and busy agendas may take on an inflated, false sense of importance. When we allow this time and again, we risk losing touch with the sacred rhythms of our soul. We risk remembrance of how to be in communion with the Divine and with each other. To be hoest, I write this essay for me as much as for you. My work schedule has been in overdrive for some months now.  Writer, Rod MacIver describes the dilemma well, " The problem is the push and pull of surface stuff. The distraction, the inclination to believe I'm not getting enough done, the emotions. The resistance to putting time into meditation. But beneath all that there is a big quiet pond. A pond at night when the little sliver of a moon radiates a golden hue. And at the edge of a pond, a bird sings into the night. I dive down into it and find images and sometimes even answers."

Honoring a natural balance between work and rest is essential for our well-being or as Erie encourages, "living a full life."

The Sabbath is an age-old tradition of resting in gratefulness. I first experienced Sabbath as a teenager while living in Vermont. A Jewish friend invited me to share in their intimate family gathering. We arrived just before sunset Friday evening. We began with the ritual of lighting the candles and reciting sacred prayers. Homemade bread was then passed, as we each broke a piece off to share with the person next to us in a gesture of loving affirmation. Next, we enjoyed a lovely meal amid peaceful conversation. After dinner, some played stringed instruments while we sang songs. That night, my friend and I slept outside in a large teepee, (family artisan trade). We lit a campfire and crawled into the warm cocoon of our sleeping bags as the chill of the autumn night swirled up through the portal to join the stars above. I still remember that magical evening, all these years later with great fondness. 

Keeping the Sabbath is a conscious decision we can make to acknowledge that it is time to STOP. We will pick up again later. For now, it is time to relax the frantic pace, to rest, to celebrate, to Love. When we take time, we are valuing our relationships; with family, friends, ourselves and those we love near or far. Carving out time  and offering our full presence is a most precious gift.

There are many ways in which, we can delight in the Sabbath. Even little snippets of time in which we can rest and perhaps engage in something we love. Author, Wayne Muller in his book called "Sabbath" suggests "Choose one pleasurable activity that is easily done and takes little time. Place a flower in a cup by your bed. Sing a song from beginning to end. Take a crayon and make a simple drawing. Do something simple and playful every day. Let the power of a simple act of creativity stop you, slow your pace, interrupt your speed. Notice how willing you are to be stopped. Notice how it feels when you are."

Thank you for your friendship and for making the Journal a part of your Sabbath weekend.