[For Sophia Ann] There’s a blaze of light in every word, it doesn’t matter which you heard, the holy or the broken hallelujah! Leonard Cohen
In the beginning was the Word. Gospel of John
And God said…Book of Genesis
When I taught Adult Ed courses on spirituality and theology, one subject, theme, if you will, that I kept coming back to was: God spoke us into being. Our name thundered in a mighty whisper and here we are. Romantic view of conception? Perhaps. But it resonates with me. Resonates as in resounds somewhere deep within. Deep within beyond my conscious mind. Further back. Then further back from there.
As far back as I remember (and I have some very early memories), words have fascinated me. The way they bounce around your mouth, play with your tongue, escape over your teeth. The way they look on a page. The origins of words and their associations in history that thread us together through time. The language we speak now is built on many languages and cultures mixing words while they mixed the gene pool. And the simple reality that sounds bind us together or separate us dependent on what they mean and the manner in which they utter forth. What power.
Now, I am a slow writer. Thoughts, memories, words, ping around me and make connections while I try to compose. If I am lucky, and patient, words will just pour from my fingertips onto the ‘page’ like water from a fountain. But, often, I just wait. Oh, I’ll scribble—that is jot down all sorts of non-sequiturs and lines of songs, nursery rhymes, and bits of conversation that pop up in my mind like jack-in-the-box—but something else has to happen in order for me to write something that feels true.
And that something feels like a blaze of light. Well, not always a blaze, sometimes a small lit candle or the proverbial light bulb. But there is heat and warmth and illumination. There is a yes, and if I am mindful, an amen.