Imbolc Waxing Bridgit Moon
Jacob and Esau and Rebekah and Isaac came to life tonight as we felt our way into this peculiar, even troubling story of deception, betrayal, theophany and a redemptive moment followed by a warm hearted, unexpected ending. These stories still resonate, still have the power to grab the attention, hold the heart and propose new perspectives. These are stories by and for men, archetypal moments held close to the heart for thousands of years.
After the reading of these stories and a conversation that followed many paths, a few left for bed: Mark, Scott and Tom while Paul, Stefan, Charlie H., Jimmy, Warren and I sat up reading poems or, in Paul and Jimmy’s case, reciting poems from memory. Poetry comes alive when one poem sparks another and books come out, dogeared and ragged from much use. Rilke, Frost, Oliver, Pauly, Sarton, Rumi all visited us, speaking across the centuries or the decades, speaking directly into the heart.
A magic, spontaneous moment, the stuff of which retreat memories are made.
