An important day to millions and millions:--in order of historical precedent: the last day of flinty March (the god of war), the advent of April, the month of Venus; a long, degrading enslavement, then exodus, then arrival; a horrible death then resurrection.

The Pagan. The Jewish. The Christian. What they've left us is a window into their needs and hopes.  Harsh, stubborn masculinity changing to the showers of feminine fertility, the reception of the earth, harvests ahead.  The persecuted finding their way across the desert, each step guarded by their god, who parts the water for them, so they can find their true, destined home.  And the other kind of persecution, the terror of death, of becoming nothing, transformed to a a promise of deliverance after life.

I stand apart from these traditions, thinking I understand their purpose, their deep passions. Doesn't one enact this evolution--for isn't each a theory of evolution?--in one's own life? Isn't the point of being here to find out what it means to be here? Isn't the point to enact one's own version of these transforming myths in the here-and-now of one's own life?

These great rites bound and bind millions, summoning them en masse to a consecrated act of identification and unity.  But for those who stand apart from them, the daily work, from light to night, is none other than this work of self finding its purpose through the work of its mind, hands, imagination, and heart.





 


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Allan DiBiase
03/31/2013 2:11pm

Yesterday I convinced myself that today would be the last snowshoe of the 12-13 season. It's to rain tonight. And pending an April snowstorm (not unheard of) I will probably be right. But you never know.

So I made the day special and got up at 5 AM and ascended the ridge across the road from the house just in time to see the sun come up over the Ossipee Mountains. It was cold last night and the snow had firmed up nicely.

Best part of this trek was a frozen vernal pool high up on a ledge above Barville Pond. I'm sure I've come upon it before but today was the first time in the early light of a March 31st. It had a magical glow in the morning light.

Now begins the season of insect repellant, boots, sunscreen. And for a while mud. Although it's been a dry spring so far and perhaps the worst is over already.

For myself, I think for a while I found or made something of that self this morning.

When I got home the fire I had made was still burning. So I built it up, crawled under one of Grace's quilts on the couch, and later woke myself up snoring. It was simply too good and I laughed.

Later I had some cornflakes with cold milk and maple syrup.

For a while I investigated Medicare Supplemental Insurance for which I can apply tomorrow morning.

Otherwise, I'm aiming for a broad margin to the day.



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