Dear Traveler,
Greetings! The new year is underway, and I hope all is well for you.
Last evening, a gifted fellow songwriter whom I’m also privileged to call my friend surprised me with a new song, saying “I wrote it for you.” I sat beside her as she sang, bathed in the warmth and beauty of her voice and guitar. To say I felt honoured can’t begin to capture the breadth of my experience of her gift. The words and music, permeated with loving intent, reverberated in the deep places of my heart, and I felt healing take place. Inner wounds I was not even aware of seemed to spontaneously close, leaving no mark.
American writer Madeleine L’Engle calls this experience being "named.” When we are unkind or deceitful to another person, we un-name them; we steal a piece of their identity and self worth from them, which they must then labour to get back. Most of us struggle daily, trying to avoid allowing ourselves to be un-named because sadly, it happens so frequently in many areas of our lives.
But when we offer a gift to someone, whether it be a thoughtful physical gift, or a gift of help, or of kindness, we are naming them. We are acknowledging their worth and showing them new facets of their identity in a meaningful way, through our benevolent vision of them. This is the most powerful thing one human being can do for another. It is especially important for the recipient in times of illness, loss, or other difficulty, when the sense of wellbeing and wholeness is compromised.
Each of us has this power to heal. Each of us has the power to name.
Thank you, Eve, for naming me last night; for helping me to re-collect my true self, for healing some lingering wounds I didn’t know were there.
Thank you to everyone who has ever named me.
Below (with her permission) are the lyrics to Eve’s wonderful song; hopefully some day I will have the audio version to post for you; it’s a real beauty.
Be well.
With love,
rosemary
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
mighty wren (eve goldberg)
well I heard a little wren
calling down from glen to glen
her song was sweet, her notes rang true
as from branch to branch she flew
she said we don’t have long to stay
we’re passing through, we’re on our way
yes, you and I are traveling souls
trying to make what’s broken whole
oh little wren, you’re a tiny thing
we knock you down, and still you sing
how can you carry on your song
how do you keep your spirit strong
traveler you have strength as well
deep inside is where it dwells
if you but seek, you shall find
the tools to mend the traveling kind
She said the wild heart is a fragile thing
It feels the world and its bitter sting
So we send a prayer into the great unknown
And a song returns – we’re not alone
she sang of water, trees and sky
i listened well and i learned why
whatever trials tomorrow brings
the wild heart will always sing
She said the wild heart is a fragile thing
It feels the world and its bitter sting
So we send a prayer into the great unknown
And a song returns – we’re not alone
well I heard a mighty wren
calling down from glen to glen
her song was sweet, her notes rang true
as from branch to branch she flew
Greetings! The new year is underway, and I hope all is well for you.
Last evening, a gifted fellow songwriter whom I’m also privileged to call my friend surprised me with a new song, saying “I wrote it for you.” I sat beside her as she sang, bathed in the warmth and beauty of her voice and guitar. To say I felt honoured can’t begin to capture the breadth of my experience of her gift. The words and music, permeated with loving intent, reverberated in the deep places of my heart, and I felt healing take place. Inner wounds I was not even aware of seemed to spontaneously close, leaving no mark.
American writer Madeleine L’Engle calls this experience being "named.” When we are unkind or deceitful to another person, we un-name them; we steal a piece of their identity and self worth from them, which they must then labour to get back. Most of us struggle daily, trying to avoid allowing ourselves to be un-named because sadly, it happens so frequently in many areas of our lives.
But when we offer a gift to someone, whether it be a thoughtful physical gift, or a gift of help, or of kindness, we are naming them. We are acknowledging their worth and showing them new facets of their identity in a meaningful way, through our benevolent vision of them. This is the most powerful thing one human being can do for another. It is especially important for the recipient in times of illness, loss, or other difficulty, when the sense of wellbeing and wholeness is compromised.
Each of us has this power to heal. Each of us has the power to name.
Thank you, Eve, for naming me last night; for helping me to re-collect my true self, for healing some lingering wounds I didn’t know were there.
Thank you to everyone who has ever named me.
Below (with her permission) are the lyrics to Eve’s wonderful song; hopefully some day I will have the audio version to post for you; it’s a real beauty.
Be well.
With love,
rosemary
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
mighty wren (eve goldberg)
well I heard a little wren
calling down from glen to glen
her song was sweet, her notes rang true
as from branch to branch she flew
she said we don’t have long to stay
we’re passing through, we’re on our way
yes, you and I are traveling souls
trying to make what’s broken whole
oh little wren, you’re a tiny thing
we knock you down, and still you sing
how can you carry on your song
how do you keep your spirit strong
traveler you have strength as well
deep inside is where it dwells
if you but seek, you shall find
the tools to mend the traveling kind
She said the wild heart is a fragile thing
It feels the world and its bitter sting
So we send a prayer into the great unknown
And a song returns – we’re not alone
she sang of water, trees and sky
i listened well and i learned why
whatever trials tomorrow brings
the wild heart will always sing
She said the wild heart is a fragile thing
It feels the world and its bitter sting
So we send a prayer into the great unknown
And a song returns – we’re not alone
well I heard a mighty wren
calling down from glen to glen
her song was sweet, her notes rang true
as from branch to branch she flew
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