Carnival of Beauty

This is week two of the Carnival of Beauty that Sallie of A Gracious Home hosts. I actually quite like this thinking and writing challenge. In fact I was looking forward to it this week, eventhough I feared it might be one extra thing to do, as it gives me the opportunity to tackle issues that I wouldn't normally share with other people. So thank you Sallie and graceful ladies and here follows this week's subject.

The Beauty of Christ

It may sound odd if you are reading this from the U.S. or some other Protestant country, but I've never actually prayed to Jesus.
First, it is a cultural thing. Then it is a matter of doctrine. You don't actually address the Lord. There for you, are the Saints, your name -saint, say St. Irene, or some other major figure whose attributes and graces apply to your case. St. Nicholas, for example, if you are a sailor or are travelling by sea, or St. Christopher if you travel by land, or the Archangels if you're flying a plane, or another major patron Saint, such as St. George. They are the ambassadors of our prayers to the Almighty. Things haven't changed that much in that respect from the times we worshiped Poseidon, Lord of the Sea or Demeter, Goddess of the Earth and crops.

The main gateway to the Lord, is His Mother, The Holiest of the Holy men and women Saints.
She usually cradles her son in her arms, so Christ is a baby, sometimes a serious one beyond his age, sometimes sweet and tender, but somehow you feel that this baby is so pure and holy that you can trust yourself to Him. Christ is also the ruler of the Universe, looking at you from up the domus. But, busy as He is keeping order above, still cares enough to bless us all, just like a father would probably be, busy yet caring and providing.

This need for a medium in order to reach Christ may be due to the fact that He actually gets crucified, so He is shown to some extend as a weaker figure than the God Father or His Mother. If you go to a Greek Orthodox church on a Good Friday you'll find the majority of women weeping. And since women are the main churchgoers, it is a time of collective release. Every and each one is crying for Him as His Mother did, and everyone and each one is also crying for a son or a brother killed in action in some war or another unfortunate event. This was especially the case in older times when there were many people around who have lived through the Asia Minor disastrous war of 1922, but it still is today, as there are many people who have lived through WWII and have lost family on the battlefield or in the civil war that ensued.
All this relived suffering and pain, year after year after year, explains perhaps the burst of happiness when Easter comes. Very few nations can feel this as much as the Greeks, that is why perhaps most Christians celebrate Easter less. Maybe American people may begin to feel all this pain and possible release as the events in the middle east unfold.

In all this Christ is the protagonist of the drama, the handsome, kind young king who sacrifices himself for us lot of mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers. And oh my, do we have quite alot of heroes in our tribe! No wonder we take His cause to our hearts.

The images and sounds of the Holy Liturgy, the perfume of the incense burning , the deep feelings of devotion and piety and the silence of the monastery that I frequented as a teenager, are very much part of me, today. As the presence of the father as a male arbiter lacked from my life, even if I did not fully realise it at the time, all those humans who achieved their divine status, peaceful and serene, by trusting Christ, those armies of male and female Saints ready to listen to me, to pray for me, to help me and save me, have been my refuge and they still inhabit that secret room in me to which I retreat and recollect myself, not only in times of trials but also when I need a moment of stillness.

I am therefore grateful to You, Christ, for providing me with that refuge, because as the saying goes You are the reason Christianity exists, so I would probably lack completely any sense of security and faith in my life if it weren't for You.

Thank You, my soul praises you.

The Beauty of a New Year

A Graceful Home is a blog I love visiting, because it always promises encouragement, optimism and inspiration. Sallie often comes up with thoughtful ideas for women, mothers and homemakers. This year she proposes us A Year of Abundance in which we can contemplate on what we've already got, feeling abundance and pleasure by actually using the goods we already have. This is a concept that is dear to my heart. I believe that the mainstream of downsizing is about deprivation and doing without, whereas what Sallie proposes is the exact opposite. It is about feeling content with what you've got, which is both financially and psychologically sound!

Sallie also sponsors The Carnival of Beauty, with some intersting subjects. Now that my commitment to blogging seems to have taken root, I thought about this idea and decided to join. I see it as an opportunity to stop, take a breath, sink in our souls and minds, listen and think, and come out renewed and rebirthed in our spiritual and emotional quests. So I hope to be able to participate. In fact, I am publishing my fisrt entry today!

The Beauty of a New Year

Time. A precious gift, not a menace. A reminder to encourage us to move ahead in becoming the best we were created to be.

Christmas and the New Year. The most godly of times. Forgiveness and union. Time to look back and think, time to look forward and create.

Time this precious gift of life, what did I do with it so far? In what ways do I honor the divine creature that I am? What am I willing to do this year?

It is so easy to overlook who we are. But as Lindsey nicely puts it, "We are spirits having a physical experience - not physical beings embarking on a spiritual experience". The New Year actually makes us stop and reminds us of this fundamental truth of our existence. For a moment Time comes to a standstil and we allow ourselves a moment of quiet. Silent night.

Say: I am here. I breathe the fresh, crystal clear air. I am. Grateful and humble. I stand here, sometimes in fear, sometimes in expectation, sometimes totally full of love and replentishment.

Those joyful moments of my life so far, come to mind and I sometimes wonder "Did I really live that?" I remember New Years past, like expecting my first child and decorating my very first Christmas tree as a married women, or bringing home our second daughter.
I am here. I lived this. My children sleep and I can hear my husband's snoring. I am alive. Inside me I may feel frustrated and tired and confused. But there isn't a place for that right now, because right now I just am, me and the Universe, God, All that Is, in this quiet moment in time.

There are so many things I want to do. So much time wasted here and there. I grow up, I can feel it now in ways I didn't in my twenties. Before, I didn't think of Time; now I need Time, I NEED this year, and the next and the next and those that with Gods' grace will hopefully come.

I need this year to be more structured to make time time for the things that really matter.
I need to feel that I am doing my best to accomplish what is important. Dishes are washed and clothes are being ironed. But I have to be the mother and wife I need to be, not just for my husband and children, but for my very own self.
What do I need to do?

I need is to do that course that has been siting on my desk for ages.
I need to learn more about my computer and be able to use it in specific segments of time.
I need to supervise and support my children more, especially as F enters her teen years.
I needto spend more time playing with J as he grows out of the preschool years and he will be going to school this year.
I need to make the effort to connect with little D, to make her believe that she is loved and cherished, I need to hold on to her hand while she takes life in her stride, charging ahead.
I need to pay more attention to C. Stand by him, control my frustrations and insecurities, help him grow along with me and be more responsible, organised and accomplished in his quests, too.
I need to make time for my friendships, real life and on-line. Invite customer-friends and my kids' friends and create an atmosphere of community in this part of the world where we were planted.
I need to think about my relationship with C's parents and not get so involved in matters that I cannot change, or that take too much effort to even influence.
I need to look after my soul and my spiritual path. I need to take care of my spirit lovingly, with devotion and faith.
I need to take care of my body and I need to teach my kids by example the importance of nesting a healthy mind in a healthy body. So I need to make time for my beloved outdoors, my yoga and perhaps some other form of physical activity that I long to do, such as tennis.
I need to make time for our home. I need to teach my kids as they grow up to show respect and perseverence in their material posessions.
I need to look after my books and my writing that so easily, actually more and more easilly, gets pushed aside, in favor of some more pressing tasks.

This is the beautiful life I want to live. And this is the beauty of the New Year. A new view through our soul's window to the beauty of our lives, its grace and its gifts.
A new book with crisp white pages that waits to be embelished by beautiful handwriting and scrapbooking, stickers and tickets to the opera, and travels to beautiful destinations, inside and outside ourselves, paths we long to travel but never dared, friends we wanted to have but never settled with a hot cup to meet and cherish, music we didn't listen and plays we didn't see.

This is New Year's gift. In the middle of the winter it gives us the promise of a new beginning, of many new beginnings, of a growing circle that will lift us to who we were ment, to who we can be. Let the seed grow! New Year is here!