Light

The chickens are all excited about spring. They seem happier and plumper and calmer. These two are the explorers of the group. They are usually to be found in the pottery studio if I leave the door ajar even a bit. They are friends and they tend to travel with each other. I call them Thelma and Louise.

This morning, when I went to get the eggs for my morning meal I was aware of all the eggs around the world that were handled yesterday. I was aware of the merging of the pagan ceremonies around eggs and fertility with the Christian ceremonies of new life and hope and potential. The eggs had just been under the butt of a hen and were warm and smooth and brown and very big.

In a split second I was able to see, with gratitude the giftedness in my life - the gifts of friends, the gift of support through life, the gift of clarity and prayer and meditation and exercise and a simple egg on toast.

Of course there is the grief of Holy Week. It still echos a bit like music in the rafters of a great cathedral three seconds after the choir stops singing that last strong note. And that echo of betrayal and sin and evil - the narcissism which Jesus came to modulate still hangs in the air a bit like last night's fried fish smell. But the hope of Easter - that truth will win out even when it seems everyone around you is rooting for Barabbas - that truth smells fresh today and is cool like night spring air and full of the potential for healing. This is a week of healing.

My eggs will be fried today, in a browned butter with a bit of curry powder in it and served on toast with a bit of mango chutney on it. The excitement and the self-gratification of sin is, I admit, enticing, but the simplicity of this egg in the creativity of a new Stonewall Kitchen recipe for fried eggs (who knew there was a new recipe for fried eggs!?!?), that simplicity of life seems to be part of the Easter Healing. Wake up, stand up, live, love, tell the truth, breathe, pray, taste, limit, channel. It can feel dull but it is a good thing.