Christmas always brings me here

This time of year really is full of magic. I have my advent candles again, and I'll be going to a cathedral on Christmas eve. I haven't ended up in any church: in the end there's always more dissonance than seems fruitful in the moment. But I can visit without pain. My spiritual life these days is still entirely without anything that I could nail down as belief, but I have more room for magic, mystery, the unseen, and the edges of my own reason. I've laid down the thought that I could maybe scratch out a literal God for myself that would line up with my intellect and experience of the world, who I could lean on for hep or guidance, but I've also found compassion for the part of myself which needs something greater than this small fragile shaky stumbling self in order to tolerate the terrifying world. Right now I'm spending time with the Buddhists asking if I can ever believe that I really am the same substance as that "more." It feels unlikely, but everything is entirely unlikely if you think about it long enough. Self-compassion is my biggest practice, and remains both immensely difficult and tremendously fruitful.

When I think about this blog and my many years of spiritual questing, I feel gentle compassion. I love this generous poem by Hafiz:

You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to hold hands with the Beautiful One.
You have waltzed with great style,
My sweet, crushed angel,
To have ever neared God's heart at all.
Our Partner is notoriously difficult to follow,
And even His best musicians are not always easy
To hear.
So what if the music has stopped for a while.
So what
If the price of admission to the Divine
Is out of reach tonight.
So what, my dear,
If you do not have the ante to gamble for Real Love.
The mind and the body are famous
For holding the heart ransom,
But Hafiz knows the Beloved's eternal habits.
Have patience,
For He will not be able to resist your longing
For Long.
You have not danced so badly, my dear,
Trying to kiss the Beautiful One.
You have actually waltzed with tremendous style,
O my sweet,
O my sweet crushed angel.