Every sorrow suggests a thousand songs, and every song recalls a thousand sorrows, and they are infinite in number, and all the same. - Marilynne Robinson
I don’t usually turn on the news, but I watched yesterday as fire engulfed the cathedral of Notre-Dame de Paris. A profound sense of loss filled me. So much gone before our eyes - history, beauty, mythology, inspiration.
I walked on the beach and watched the waves breaking. The tide rolled in, higher than usual with the nearing full moon. A tragedy was unfolding 5600 kilometers across the sea, and the sea continued unphased - the rhythmic push of water upon sand.
I thought about the moon which was rising unseen by my eyes and already shining down upon a city of lights in shock.
The world looking on - momentarily stopped in our tracks.
I feel us reaching for each other in this shared moment of sorrow and distress. For what are we, if not relational?
Reaching for each other as a means of staying upright, as we bear witness to the impermanence of it all - our architecture, our icons, our lives. We, too, will one day disappear.
Let us invite sorrow into the circle. And know that by claiming our vulnerability, we share our strength.
In four days time, embers will continue to cool on the Île de la Cité. And the moon, dressed in all her fullness, will shine down upon Our Lady of Paris and upon each of us.
How does sorrow touch you? What moves you to the point of tears?
I walked on the beach and watched the waves breaking. The tide rolled in, higher than usual with the nearing full moon. A tragedy was unfolding 5600 kilometers across the sea, and the sea continued unphased - the rhythmic push of water upon sand.
I thought about the moon which was rising unseen by my eyes and already shining down upon a city of lights in shock.
The world looking on - momentarily stopped in our tracks.
I feel us reaching for each other in this shared moment of sorrow and distress. For what are we, if not relational?
Reaching for each other as a means of staying upright, as we bear witness to the impermanence of it all - our architecture, our icons, our lives. We, too, will one day disappear.
Let us invite sorrow into the circle. And know that by claiming our vulnerability, we share our strength.
In four days time, embers will continue to cool on the Île de la Cité. And the moon, dressed in all her fullness, will shine down upon Our Lady of Paris and upon each of us.
How does sorrow touch you? What moves you to the point of tears?
 | Jessica Curtis is a professional coach who helps people cultivate intention and live from a place of meaning and authenticity. If you think you could benefit from working with Jessica or want to invite her to work with your group, reach out to start a conversation. |
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