No words this morning satisfy. I just sit wishing to understand all the languages of birdsong; they seem so ardent in their squawking. And it seems that their messages are passed from group to group – from here, through the trees back to the river and across, until they reach the mountain where their voices are so soft I can hardly hear. But then they fade into silence and another, more animated conversation begins. I wish I could – like Peter Pan – wish myself to fly out my window and through the circular opening in the tree out back. I would wager it is the way to find Never Never Land…but not today. It’s Primary Day in New York and I have to vote. That’s the role of adults these days. We have responsibilities. Let’s take them seriously so we might get back to dreaming…
Most nights I wake up knowing that I have been dreaming but without any sense of the content of the dreams. This morning as I read an alternate translation of the psalm for today, several quick dream images jumped into view. They seem unconnected and inscrutable but I wonder if they were brought forth by the call of the psalm which is a lovely way to begin the morning. Listen:
O God, we rise in thanks to call upon your name; we rise to spread the tidings of your deeds. We rise to sing you songs of praise recounting every work and word in music’s voice; we rise to sing in honor of your holy name. Let every seeker’s heart rejoice and search for you with all their strength until they stand before the beauty of your face, remembering. Remember, remember everything you can recall, remember every work and wonder, remember every word God speaks to you in wisdom…(Ps. 105: 1-5)
I am fairly certain I’ve used those words before. This morning it has the feeling of the famous prayer of St. Patrick’s Breastplate, first calling to God and then to ourselves, urging remembrance. No matter, I suppose, if it is a repetition since new eyes will see it today, just as I see it with new eyes and feel the call more deeply in my heart.