Advent Visions

December 14:  Geminids

The annual Geminid Meteor Shower makes its appearance every December, and this year December 13 and 14 are the opportunities for greatest visibility.  On a perfect dark night, with little moon and no clouds, you may be able to see over 50 shooting stars per hour.  For almost 200 years people in North America have been going outside to catch a glimpse of these celestial fireworks, first sighted in 1833 from a riverboat on the Mississippi River.   These meteors are the remnants of an ancient asteroid that intercept our earth's orbit each December.    It's exciting to go outside in the frosty night, all bundled up from the cold, to feel the wonder that the ancient Wise Men must have felt following the star to Bethlehem.

The only problem is that tonight is supposed to be rainy.   No stars.  No meteors.  No wonder in the meadow.  The Geminids will be streaking through the sky, and I won't be able to see them.   One of the incongruities of Advent and Christmas is that we are often frustrated by the realities which we can't see.   The holy child of Bethlehem, so revered by the world today, went unnoticed at the time of his birth.   He came into the world, and nobody saw him except for a few excited shepherds and a frazzled inkeeper.    One of the opportunities of Advent is to live mindfully in a world where some of the most beautiful and important realities are invisible.    Recently I was sent a wonderful photo of Arlene Macmillan as a young girl, joyously riding her bicycle.   Maybe if you look at her smile, you can recognize her as the one who is a grandmother today.    Nobody in 1947 could have looked at that young girl and seen the woman she turned out to be.   And it's sad that as we look at this silver-haired woman today, it is easy to forget that a free-spirited, wondrous child is still in her heart.  

We should look at every person we meet and see in them a child--a person of hopes and dreams--and a beloved, divine spirit.     The sloppily dressed old man shuffling down the street, the tattooed guy on a motorcycle, the hard-bitten felon in jail, the mentally challenged woman in the convenience store, the silent and almost invisible neighbor--all of them holy and beloved.   What would it mean to see that essence in everyone we encounter, the reality which is often obscured from our vision?   In India, people sometimes greet each other with a bow and the blessing "Namaste."   A common translation is, "The divine light in me sees the divine light in you,"  or "I bow to the place in you that is love, light, and joy."   What a gift:  to walk through the day and recognize our one-ness with everyone we meet.   It would mean that, in spite of the clouds, we might discover starlight.


Geminids

Tonight
there are falling stars,
the tinsel of the universe.
I would be a wishing child
and ask for wings,
or a golden jackpot,
or a great, long life.
Or maybe it would be
just enough
to take in the glory
of a silvered moment,
and to remember it 
on some bitter day
when the world seems drab.
Let me not forget
that there are stars,
and glory,
in everyone I meet.