We are in a topsy-turvy world. I really wonder whether it has always been so topsy-turvy, or whether at age 10, I was oblivious to the topsy-turvyness. It is probably the latter, and now I am just more cognizant of the turvyness. (I don’t think this is really a word, but it sounds neat.) But where do we find our refuge? I find myself wanting to listen to the news to see if it has gotten any better, but it just keeps getting crazier. Listening to more news does not make it better. Although I try to meditate, I find that it is difficult to turn my mind off, even if it is for fifteen minutes. I do a better job if I am meditating with a group. The standbys of walking, exercising, listening to music, or reading poetry are of some help. I think the point of new years’ resolutions is to try and slow down, to turn over a new leaf, to get back on track. That is what I am going to do this year. I share the poem that a friend of mine wrote.

Come in, friends. There is a storm outside.
The earth will not stop trembling while we pause, but we will find stillness here.

In this room, we are held and nourished, stimulated and refreshed. We need only glance around this circle to witness the light of divine love — or close our eyes and feel its tender warmth.

In this room, our flame may flicker in the wind and then grow brighter. We may doubt and then feel our resolve grow stronger. Our love may wiggle and waver, but we trust that it will persist.

The sacred womb of this room prepares each of us to boldly carry that love like a torch into the night. And we find that they are one and the same together, the womb that holds us and the one that wells up from a knowing deep within each of us.

In a lifetime during which nothing lasts and the ground will always move beneath our feet, take refuge here. We are both holding and always held.

Be still. Welcome!

Lisa Steele-Maley, 2017

– Mary Anne Totten, CPE Intern