Encouragement

To my young friend who speaks of love . . .

This morning I read from a little book that I have, and that I frequently read from. The Celtic Devotional – Daily Prayers & Blessings.

When we last really communicated, you were in the heart of the land that is Celtic. For the civilization of Ireland was Celtic many, many centuries ago.

In the Celtic annual cycle, the spring quarter, or “Imbolc” season brings the gift of insight and inspiration and is a time of beginnings and of essential truthfulness. Begun in the dark and often icy days of early Spring, it is traditionally the time to appreciate innocence, truth and justice, to make resolutions and plans and to prepare for the enfolding year. In the human growth cycle, Imbolc corresponds to the period of childhood when all things are questioned or enjoyed for their own sake. Imbolc is a good time to celebrate the lives of all “soul-midwives” who have taught and prepared us, all who have been upholders of justice and truth, all holy ones who have gone to the heart of the matter with great clarity and insight.

And on this Monday morning, the devotional counsels that all souls need nurture and the fosterage of encouragement: may the love of he Mother and Father of Soul’s Fostering be in my heart, that I may encourage all who are despondent and without hope.

My friend, I know so very little about you. I know nothing of the circumstances of your soul. I know so very little about your feelings. If they are of despondency or of hope. I know nothing about what encouragement, if any, that you need or want or seek or desire.

I do know that you have talked of love.

But our communication has been like communicating with a miniscule spacecraft far, far away, where the signal is faint and comes in and out.

And so my young friend, I dream of you. I have established this mythology in my mind. You are a persona to me. An imaginary person. And I know not of what I actually dream. But my dream of you does bring me comfort. For believing that I am loved is a wonderful infusion of life. And your little messages do that to me.

Do you remember my telling you about my son. You called him a “hell of a psychologist.” About his warning to me that writing of the things of the heart can be so impossible.

Perhaps my son is right.

But I do long for a note from you. For your sharing of your self. For your filling in the details of my dream of you. For my understanding of who the young man is that has fallen in love with me.

And so my reading this morning . . . about things like “soul,” “love,” “life,” “joyful awareness,” “indwelling beauty of life.”

Do these kinds of words mean anything to you?

Tell me your understanding, your feelings, your longings about soul.

Do your dreams include these kinds of words?

Do you have these kinds of thoughts?

Can you write them down?

Can you share them?

I would be so honored to understand this dimension of you.

And yes, I can be a source of encouragement for you. I can do my best to help you bring forth your feelings about yourself. Your self-worth. Your contribution to life.

And where and when you find this little story from me to you, I hope it can foster a little flicker of encouragement in your life.

I hope it can help you to realize that love is a wonderful experience.

I hope it can help you to find fulfillment in your life.

My love to you
The Refectory Manager