Being on Day 19 of a 19 day fast between sunrise and sunset is one way to discover holy. There are so many. Whether intentional holy moments of peacefulness, prayer or contemplation, a knowable expression of love to oneself or another, or the countless every day moments, trials and difficulties that could easily escape notice, I’m starting to think that every breath of life, lesson and love is holy.
I agree that some moments, days, weeks and some times longer periods of time do not feel holy at all, and for whatever reason I’ve had my fair share of these times. This repetition has however helped develop a spiritual muscle for me to know that by finding a way to redirect my attention from whatever difficulty I’m facing, that it seems holiness prevails. Sometimes this is known at the time, at times discovered sometime thereafter.
Before arriving to this 19th day of the fast, an actual Holy Day in the Baha’I Faith called Naw Ruz, meaning “new day” and also considered the New Year, I’d like to rewind to a few recent memorable moments.
1) For the past several months I have been taking two now 25-year old twin girls Aliyah and Shahar swimming at the Courage Center. I have been a part-time caregiver for them for the past 5 years. We have never once had a conversation, in words that is, as they are unable to verbally communicate. They are also 100 % dependent on others for their care. (Another much longer story for another time.) The holy moments have been many and life changing.
The moment that is imprinted in my mind is the first time I and another caregiver took them swimming. You see, Aliyah is wheelchair bound. Neither Aliyah or Shahar can purposefully move their hands to provide for their own daily needs. Shahar can walk and loves to do so. Aliyah, I have only known seated in her wheelchair, until the day of that holy moment, which is also now imprinted on my heart.
I was with Shahar that day. After wheeling her down the specially made ramp into the pool, we were walking back and forth in the neck high walking section. This brought Shahar’s signature smile to full expression, a smile I hadn’t seen for a while. She had been troubled for some reason and unable to communicate why. This brought me great appreciation because I hadn’t seen her happy for some time, which has not been easy for her, her family or me. After several back and forths, we stopped to take a rest.
As we sat, I gazed around the pool and felt the stories of each person finding their way back into their bodies one by one; the middle aged woman with a long red scar down her entire spine; the young beautiful one with half of her face disfigured; several elderly and frail men and women making tiny movements with their arms, legs or whatever part of their body they were relearning to use; the happy young girl with a protective helmet on, squeeling unrecognizable but very happy sounds; one of the oldest looking women I have ever seen in a plastic swimming cap who moved like a quiet ghost in the pool.
My eyes then landed upon these little legs walking in the pool. My girl, my friend, my Aliyah, she was walking. This was holy. I started to cry and couldn’t believe my eyes. After a few moments of checking with the other caregiver to make sure it was real, I felt such purpose and determination to continue my part in our relationship as one part of their hands and feet to give them both this experience of purposeful movement in the pool, to live their daily lives as comfortably as possible, love them and hold space for them to fulfill their God-given potential.
I was also deeply aware of their sacrificial offerings as spiritual hands and feet for me, and anyone who is blessed to know them, a purpose they are living fully. My sweet Aliyah, 25 years without speaking, moving, getting herself up, feeding herself, going where she wants to go and doing what she chooses to do, it is chosen for her and she does not complain. She simply loves, encourages love, lives with patience beyond Job and with humble gratitude was moving her little legs in the pool as if it were just another day.
2) I have another friend, also a sister, mother, widow, and friend to many. Over dinner a few weeks ago, I felt inspired to ask her about her husband who passed away many years ago, and whom she cared for side by side for 11 years after his Cancer diagnosis up until the sacred moments of his passing, which she described to me in detail. So, here we are having an every day meal at Good Earth and I am transported to the love, loss and sacrifice of my friend. She also shared with me that it was the anniversary of her husband’s death and she had deeply longed to talk about him. Who lines that up? That was a holy night. Not only that, I then see her the following Tuesday where she has been a devoted and loving sister caring for her sister who had a stroke almost a year ago and is on another holy and difficult journey back into her body and her life as it is becoming. Also, another much longer story for another time.
3) A much simpler kind of every day moment(s), my cats follow me everywhere I go. If you have cats, you know what I mean. Being in the same room as I am is very important to them. If you could see the love in their eyes when they look up at me and try to get as close as possible or bring me their glitter balls, strings or everyday objects that have become toys. Simple as this may seem, it is holy to me. I love their love, and I gotta say they feel like protectors, healers, lovers, sweet sacred creatures that are my loving shadows as if they are linked to the Great Beyond watching over me.
Fast forward to today, a day upon which I am both exalted and exhausted. As a non-morning person or early eater, I have made it through 19 sunrises to get as much solid and liquid nourishment as I can before that orange, sometimes pink, sometimes blue, sometimes grey glow (or not) fills my kitchen window. I have made it through 19 long afternoons of a growing surrender from the pull of hunger, the withering of thirst and the waning of energy into something greater than myself, a loftier sense of being, a simultaneous difficult and humbling holy.
I am pulled to the present and can only see one moment to the next, one day to the very next one that follows. In this moment with 2 hours to go, even to imagine the next two hours is too much. I bring myself back to now and wonder; What if with our mindful attention to all that we think, say, do, and are with ourselves and others we could create a more holy life. Could a different look through our own eyes at our lives and lessons begin to change the lens through which we live our lives and are in relationship with ourself, our Creator, our earth and those we love? Could it be that it is our attention and our choice that makes every day holy?
