Whose foot is it, anyway?

December 22, 2016 at 8:28 pm (By Amba)

Sometimes it’s like that.

                                                                                               [better with the sound off]

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5 Comments

  1. LouiseM said,

    what is the dealio? I’m not sure I like the new format. Not only unclear as to whose foot is whose but who turned on the light? And why switch to LED lighting? Blink, Blink, Blink. OMG this is crisp and clean. What used to feel like a familiar pocket has been turned inside out. The old homestead has been flipped!!!

  2. LouiseM said,

    Paradigm Shift!!!

    I am liking the title and focus. A little more blinking and I might get used to this.

  3. LouiseM said,

    Here’s my contribution to the dance, using the words and picture of another, with the last stanza of the poem being the foot I grab.

    Last month, my 70 year old Spiritual Director and former English professor told me of a trip she took in January to study Dante’s Inferno with a group of college students in Florence, Italy. One of the experiences that moved her took place after a service in the Chapel of San Miniato where the Eucharist was served on the crypt of St Minias. http://www.sacred-destinations.com/italy/florence-san-miniato-al-monte
    As the group was dispersing, she saw an older Italian gentleman approach one of the large crucifixes hanging on the wall and reach out to grab hold of the the feet of Jesus which were in front of him at head level. As he stood there with his own head bowed and both hands holding the pierced feet, she realized she was seeing a body prayer that went beyond the comfort and formality of ritual to involve a felt connection. With “Whose foot is it anyway? being the question that seems to me to fit that story too!

    Blessing for the Brokenhearted

    There is no remedy for love but to love more.
    – Henry David Thoreau

    Let us agree
    for now
    that we will not say
    the breaking
    makes us stronger
    or that it is better
    to have this pain
    than to have done
    without this love.

    Let us promise
    we will not
    tell ourselves
    time will heal
    the wound,
    when every day
    our waking
    opens it anew.

    Perhaps for now
    it can be enough
    to simply marvel
    at the mystery
    of how a heart
    so broken
    can go on beating,
    as if it were made
    for precisely this—

    as if it knows
    the only cure for love
    is more of it,

    as if it sees
    the heart’s sole remedy
    for breaking
    is to love still,

    as if it trusts
    that its own
    persistent pulse
    is the rhythm
    of a blessing
    we cannot
    begin to fathom
    but will save us
    nonetheless.

    —Jan Richardson

  4. amba12 said,

    WHAT??? I didn’t do this! How did it happen? Maybe the old format expired?? I loved it. :_( Meanwhile, thank you for the poem. It’s not only beautiful but exactly what I needed to hear right now.

  5. amba12 said,

    I got it restored!!

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