Celebrating "Coming-of-Wisdom"

Some remember "Coming-of-Age," when innocence blossomed into desire, and giving soaked into Union.

I celebrate "Coming-of-Wisdom" - when Presence births Sacrament in the Ordinary.

The first time I really paid attention, dew drops shimmered on a dandelion puff. A cardinal trilled. And a blushing rosebud unfurled with grace and magnificence. The ruby-throated hummingbird suspended flight mid-air to appraise the honeysuckle parade cascading over the precipice. And a river surged through me with the intensity of a thousand whispers.

Coming-of-Wisdom means listening. It means focusing with the razor acuity of gray wolves in wintering scarcity, alert to the slightest flinch, tensed in shifting shadows, wolf-song fine-tuned to mating whistles, territorial howls, growls, snarls, whines, barks, and yelps. It means the ultimacy of pack survival, the hunt of predators, the flight of prey, and the primordial allure of blood-stained snow. It means listening with the inner ear and smiling from deep down when our Beloved calls, "Come home."

Coming-of-Wisdom is olfactory astonishment. Being alive with insatiable craving. Ancient aromas of redwood forests, pine beds and ocean spray, Spring humus and bear scat, citrus and mint, jasmine, lavender, and leafy decay so potent I am at once a century, and then two days old, with my eyes wide and my arms outstretched with wonder and surprise. It's peach pies and overnight rolls, Fruit of the Earth and work of human hands. My Mother's hands. And her Mother's. And hers.

Coming-of-Wisdom tastes like sweet black berries on the tongue, or fermented grapes in Life's Goblet of misery and mirth. It spills over like a banquet arrayed with friendship and gratitude, abundance and emptying, healing and mercy. It is salty tears of trembling and loss, realization and hope. It tastes like forgiving and being forgiven. Coming-of-Wisdom tastes fresh and bitter, tangy and spicy, soothing and surprising, tantalizing and rancid. It has an Earthy finish.

Coming-of-Wisdom feels like Nature's symphony brushing the edges of memory and soul, the barred owl's invitation and the mourning dove's lament. It caresses the deep bruises with gentle breezes and soaking rains, softening the garden furrows and making the compost reek with possibility and new life. It is twisting vines and over-ripe fruit. Coming-of-Wisdom is the cradle of in-between, that liminal space where Imagination and Becoming germ, so we can kindle courage and confidence. Coming-of-Wisdom feels like outrageous joy and aching sadness, two soul-sisters encircling one heart-beat with a tender, swaying embrace.

Coming-of-Wisdom is a subtle emergence into Now, being here absolutely. It is Loving This-ness. It is basking in Wonder, savoring every moment of Immersion and Holy Breath. It means being utterly Still. It means holding a friend's trust and sheltering them in our patience, spaciousness, and understanding. Coming-of-Wisdom celebrates the Awesome in changing light bulbs and diapers. It is sharing raucous Laughter, lying in the sweet grass, and sipping afternoon tea. Coming-of-Wisdom dresses up for Firefly Spectaculars, and sends invitations for the Solstice Dance. It invites lifelong Learning, and midwifes Transformation. It heals rejection, and kisses away our prickly tears.

Pay attention to Micro-Miracles and Macro-Pauses. Wisdom is present there. It is in the potent energy of "YES," when Love erupts through every aperture of desire, fear, loss, and hope to emerge into Beauty and spiraling Possibility. Until at last we receive Her sacred imprimatur in the mossy loam of Sophia's Garden, when we're anointed for the luminous Journey, and ferried by the Energy of Love.