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dcseainThank you all for your input to date; it's much appreciated and has made for a much more elequent opening.
A couple of you suggested adding the last sentence at the beginning, followed by a longish pause. I've not found a good way to introduce a big breath at the beginning without being redundant. Closest i've come is
For reference, the previous threads on this are, from most recent to oldest, here, here, here, and here.
A co-worker who has been proofreading for me knew what liminal meant, but had to ask me what cyclic meant. Heh.
A couple of you suggested adding the last sentence at the beginning, followed by a longish pause. I've not found a good way to introduce a big breath at the beginning without being redundant. Closest i've come is
Good Morning. All together now, big, cleansing breath in…and out. Nothing clears the mind and focuses the body like a good, deep breath., which doesn't quite do it. I think repeating the last sentence at the top doesn't work either.Do you think it's necessary?
For reference, the previous threads on this are, from most recent to oldest, here, here, here, and here.
A year has passed, bringing the cycle of life again to the crisp air of Fall, and to Samhain: this holy and sacred time of year when the veil between the worlds thins, allowing the dearly departed ancestors, the wee folk, and the yet to be born to roam among us.
Holy because this is a time for looking back; for remembering; for acknowledging those who have passed while being thankful for the breath we draw, and the memories we carry — a time to embrace life joyously while yet we mourn those we have lost.
Sacred because Samhain is liminal – a space between the physical and the ethereal; a time between death and birth; a place between the here and the beyond, as the beach between the land and the sea.
Breathing, like life itself, is cyclic. The end of each breath brings the start of the next; the passing of each soul brings space for new life.
We know someone has died when they stop breathing; the chest falls but does not rise again. The last breath carries the soul out of the body, blessed by the salty water of tears shed by those in witness, and by those who later mourn.
Beyond the veil, the water, and salt, and sorrow, of those tears help fill a sunless sea - an island floating in its centre; a liminal place neither in the here, nor in the beyond. An island of apple trees perpetually in bloom and perpetually bearing fruit so that no one ever hungers, nor wants for beauty.
According to the Britannic tradition, souls go to that island when they pass. Call it Apple Island, The Misty Isle, Avalon, Annwyn, or what you will. Know that it is there for you to breathe its fruity goodness amid the isolation of the great Sunless Sea.
Breathe deeply and join us in honouring those who have died before us.
A co-worker who has been proofreading for me knew what liminal meant, but had to ask me what cyclic meant. Heh.
