Beginning to Re-Story Wisdom as She Beckons...

Thirteen years, then. Thirteen, divine attributes in Jewish wisdom circles Thirteen, number of completion, a full cycle of moons around the sun. Thirteen, the years of being seen and  heard into wholeness, fullness, for that time. She gave me a piece of pottery shard once. White and blue, in felt-antique fashion She’d come across it on a run. Stooped to pick it up Much like she stooped for me. I carried it in my pocket for months. Uncertain of its symbolism Trusting its fragility and perseverance both. For both of us. We each got a porcelain mug White and blue Flowery print Feeling like lace, but less fragile. Still fragile, but less so. The place where the women waited beckoned. Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Old City Jerusalem. Eastern European pilgrims crowded around. I reached out my hand leaving the pottery shard there. Unseen. Unheard, but Home.  Its sharp edges dulled by pocket fuzz Its fragility assured, now witness to love’s perseverance Women abandoned, found by women...

  I am back at Holy Wisdom Monastery, at least until the morning. I was blessed to speak to the prioress for a short while after lunch, just the two of us. A meeting I had requested though I knew I wasn’t sure what all I wanted to say, needed to say. She was gracious. It was delightful to hear the many strands of seeding and nourishing unfolding here in the community. I felt the unbidden tears rise, grateful for the many ways in which this place has nourished me from afar. Just knowing this community/monastery is here , alive, in the world today, keeps some part of me vibrant, hopeful. I don’t get to be physically present in the community much yet, but if way opens, Brian and I will, some day. I spent a week here in 2023, drawn by Annie Thorisdottir’s plausible final live competition at the CrossFit Games. I wanted to see my favorite CrossFit athlete perform in person. It was the last time the Games were in Madison. I remembered belatedly that Holy Wisdom Monastery was in Madison, ...