Finding Hidden Light

DSC04645Even when I take a break from news and social media, I’m still immersed in the realities of the world, just by walking around my neighborhood.

This picture was taken on a chilly late October afternoon. I wasn’t able to ascertain if the two people sleeping on a grating were migrants or crack addicts, but I was struck by the fact that a kind soul had left them fresh bread and fruit. This is a constant in my area: people’s concern for the less fortunate, even when it’s challenging.

At a local town hall meeting this fall to address the consequences of drug trafficking on our streets, local residents and shop owners were concerned about being accosted by hostile beggars,  dealers occupying their entrances and parking facilities, addicts lighting up crack pipes along the sidewalks in broad daylight, sleeping in our hallways and using them for toilets, the effect on businesses and children walking to and from school in this atmosphere… but also worried about these human beings and their welfare. Police and town council members were present at the meeting, but also associations creating safe houses for poly-addicts to get sterile syringes, spend the night indoors, get medical attention and a chance at starting over. Amazing. The police explained that by law, addiction is considered an illness and when someone is picked up for drug trafficking, they are given shelter and counseling by the court system…

In this vein, here’s a quote from an interview with Rachel Naomi Remen, a story told to her by her grandfather:

“This is the story of the birthday of the world. In the beginning, there was only the holy darkness, the Ein Sof, the source of life. Then, in the course of history, at a moment in time, this world, the world of a thousand thousand things, emerged from the heart of the holy darkness as a great ray of light. And then, perhaps because this is a Jewish story, there was an accident. [laughs] And the vessels containing the light of the world, the wholeness of the world, broke. And the wholeness in the world, the light of the world, was scattered into a thousand thousand fragments of light. And they fell into all events and all people, where they remain deeply hidden until this very day.

Now, according to my grandfather, the whole human race is a response to this accident. We are here because we are born with the capacity to find the hidden light in all events and all people; to lift it up and make it visible once again and, thereby, to restore the inate wholeness of the world. This is a very important story for our times — that we heal the world one heart at a time. This task is called “tikkun olam” in Hebrew, “restoring the world.”  

http://onbeing.org/programs/rachel-naomi-remen-the-difference-between-fixing-and-healing-nov2018/

Always looking for hidden light…

xxxxxx Aliss

Happy Thanksgiving from Paris

A favorite shot of Pavillon des Canaux, Paris 19…dsc03044

There is much to be thankful for:

“Gratitude to Mother Earth, sailing through night and day–
and to her soil: rich, rare and sweet
in our minds so be it.
 
Gratitude to Plants, the sun-facing light-changing leaf
and fine root hairs: standing still through wind 
and rain; their dance is in the flowing spiral grain
in our minds so be it.
 
Gratitude to Air, bearing the soaring Swift and the silent
Owl at dawn. Breath of our song
clear spirit breeze
in our minds so be it.
 
Gratitude to Wild Beings, our brothers, teaching secrets,
freedoms and ways; who share with us their milk;
self- complete, brave, and aware
in our minds so be it.
 
Gratitude to Water: clouds, lakes, rivers, glaciers;
holding or releasing; streaming through all
all bodies salty seas
in our minds so be it.
 
Gratitude to the Sun: blinding pulsing light through 
trunks of trees, through mists, warming caves where
bears and snakes sleep–he who wakes us–
in our minds so be it.
 
Gratitude to the Great Sky
who holds billions of stars–and goes yet beyond that–
beyond all powers, and thoughts
and yet is within us–
Grandfather Space
The Mind is his Wife.
 
so be it.”
 
(after a Mohawk prayer)
– by Gary Snyder