Ashes

Today is Ash Wednesday, and it feels like an opportunity to sweep the caverns of my body and soul until they are white, and to take the ashes and plant them somewhere. The rector preached at the 6am service this morning about a Portuguese sea captain João Gonçalves Zarco, who in 1419 discovered a heavily wooden island lying 475 miles offshore of Casablanca. He named the island "Madeira," which means wood. But there was so much wood that inhabitability was impossible, so he wiped out every last tree by starting a fire that burned for seven years. The volcanic soil, once too acidic for grape growing, was made alkaline by the ashes of burnt forests. Grapes were planted and grew aplenty in the rich mixture yielding what we know of today as Madeira wine.

I assume there is no guarantee that the Ash Wendesday sweeping I have done today, has rendered me clear, nor, that my ashes of excess, things left undone, impatience, impurity and the like, will transform even a tiny island into a flourishing garden. I do know however, that I can be faithful that these ashes, my ashes before the ashes of my final day, can not make me flourish. I also know that the sweeping does not stop today. It is each day, each breath. It is Lent, it is life.
I am thankful for church, Yoga and the breath that sweeps through me to do the cleaning in the darkest spaces.

Amen, Namaste, Peace!