We need an Epiphany

“Without the quest, there can be no epiphany.”

                     Constantine E. Scaros, Reflections on a Simple Twist of Fate:

                     Literature, Art and Parkinson's Disease

 

When you have looked at so many doors with longing

wondering if your life lay on the other side.

 

For today, choose the door that opens to the inside.

 

Travel the most ancient way of all:  the path that leads you

to the center of yourself.

 

No map but the one you make yourself

No provision but what you already carry

And the grace that comes to those who walk

the pilgrim’s way    

                     Jan Richardson, Circle of Grace, pp. 77,78

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One way or another

we are all on the long desert trek to Epiphany

 

like the wise sages

wandering far

following the vague hint of a start

 

we too search

 

sometimes we wander aimlessly

our footprints meandering in the sand

crooked and aimless

 

sometimes we stride stridently

our desperation or eagerness driving us forward

 

it matters where we search

and for what

and we must be prepared to be surprised

 

I am sure those sunburnt, dried out

eastern sages were surprised

that journey’s end was a peasant child

 

but there is joy even in the unexpected

and often uncomfortable

 

“I get it” our soul cries

 

I get it!

Not everything

Often not much of anything

 

Just a glimpse of a star

or the stirring of love in our heart

or one piece of a 1000 word puzzle falling into place

 

but for a moment the world is bigger

and wider

and we know we have found something precious

 

We are all headed toward Epiphany

the trek can take us any where

but it matters where we search and for what

 

for some their wanderings take them to a Senate chamber

where they seek power, or revenge

 

for some the journey takes them into temples or mosques

synagogues and churches

 

where they seek enlightenment and peace

 

for me, this Epiphany my journey takes me

into that deep place

where Sacred dwells

 

where I can meet the One who comes and comes and comes again

into the manger of my heart

and where, looking the eyes of Love

I can see reflected

myself

 

and proclaim

I get it