This morning, we tromped outside for an hour – slower than our usual pace – in hopes of seeing the Orionid meteor shower.
Just like a sales pitch, the pre-meteor chatter included “you’ll see 20 meteors an hour” and “we expect quite a show!”
As a nerd and wonder junkie, I was so hyped up to get out there and see the show that I woke early despite having forgotten to set the alarm. Meteors! Woohoo!
On went the crazy tights and shorts and pink gloves and scarf and sweatshirt and oh-my-gosh-I-almost-forgot-my-shoes! I actually skipped to Katie’s house in the dark deserted cold morning.
We walked and talked and laughed for over an hour outside, tripping over curbs and around acorns and autumn debris.
We saw ZERO meteors.
But we did see the stars and the red planet and a few high-altitude airplanes and the lazy crescent moon. And among such company, who could be disappointed?
In that hollow space where our expectations could have conjured bitter cranky entitled muck, we found conversation and community. We saw the stars and the moon in the “hollow” of the atmosphere.
And as I continue to biff things up here and there – some that make my heart squinch with regret – I realize that I – we – are in the hollowing.
All of those great plans yet accomplished
what beauty have we brought forth instead?
The wishful thinking and champions of our affections lost
who have we been privileged to love and what have we learned?
Hollowness as grief and disappointment scour our old normal into a new and often unwanted morning or long restless night
where will we go with that grief? to whom do we run?
and what I’ve learned painfully in these years of living…
with what will we attempt to fill the hollowness of our bones and heart?
A warning: I have learned again that too often we seek to fill the hollowing with something that only makes us feel the void more acutely.
Activity – oft noble and needed
Pity (self and otherwise)
Striving to be brilliant, known, loved, desired
and so many other poor substitutes for whatever gives us real life.
I don’t want bitterness to fill the scoured places.
Perhaps, we aren’t supposed to fill every nook and cranny of our living.
Perhaps those hollowing seasons
And hollowed moments
Are hallowed secrets revealing themselves
Because belonging and community are what brings most of us life.
And that is a sweetness worth a bit of empty moments and hollowed spaces.
Still searching for the North Star (and a few falling stars).
A super-secret note to my friend, Ruth: there is love for you here and there. I see you and cheer because you are. If I could take some of the weight off of your shoulders, I sure would. Instead, I offer you a quiet – hollowed out – space and the Konza prairie. And Honey Badger wine.