Tag Archives: Ecclesiastes

Equality in Stardust

By: Jenni Taylor

Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the grave, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom.– Ecclesiastes 9:10

I am mesmerized by the mystery of the finite being part of the infinite. I find myself a part of the adolescent state of humanity wondering, “why are we here?” realizing it might not even be the right question to ask.

We are the small- we know it now, looking further and further out to the stars. We are self-aware of our ignorance. Now, when do we find our place in “the big”?

Death is said to be the great equalizer. It’s true. Our bodies fade away, breaking back down into the particles they first came from. Star stuff, they say, the dust of the universe. Good, bad, ugly and beautiful all sent spiraling together in equal amounts of very scientific gases.

Though our bodies are scattered throughout the galaxies in rather equal measures, I think about our equality on earth. The equality of breath, of oxygen flowing into our lungs at the same rate as every other person, and what we decide to do with that oxygen. How breath can become breath of life or breath of spewing hate. I think about the equality of giving, how it is bottomless and continuous and has nothing to do with the amount we start out with. I think about the equality of souls, each one precious, despite its smallness or its place in the world.

We are much more alike than different, and we all have tentacles reaching out from our hearts straining to connect with something, anything. We are equal in our emptiness, and we are equal in our capacity to fill the emptiness of others with love.

So, before we turn to stardust and the working, planning, knowledge and wisdom are all gone- let’s equalize our buckets, giving and taking, and help each other out on this journey to the stars.741060_10100356163796891_698349742_o

Waking Up

A Good Morning in Thailand

I’m tired of being tired. Not just the physical tired, but the emotional tired that comes with stress, living in another country, work, a busy life, and a multitude of other problems clamoring for my attention at any given moment. I’m tired of rolling out of bed and mechanically getting ready to hit the grind. I want to live my life, not just survive it.

So this week I am waking up saying, this morning is for ME. I will fill my own bucket with sunshine, peace and purpose before I go out and start filling the buckets around me.

I stretch. I put my arms over my head and breath deep enough my belly looks like a balloon. I take a moment to remember how incredible having life is, and how beautiful it is to take one breath, and then another.

I dance, sing, hum, or spend a minute listening to the birds or Spanish ballads. I put at least a moment of music in me because there’s something about having a song in your heart that brings joy.

I read. Right now it’s one or two verses from Ecclesiastes, or a poem by Dylan Thomas, or a moment with something I already know from my Chinese book to give me a little extra confidence. Words bring life, and I choose to put those words on my tongue like nourishing honey.

I soak in the sunshine. If there is no sunshine, I look at the trees and remember that they too are waiting for the sun to come back, and they do so with patience and grace. I try to stand tall like they do, and hope I will be as wise as they are some day.

I eventually get to work, have my breakfast, and drink my coffee. I try to remember to keep all the things from the morning in me, and to take another deep breath when needed.

Habits are hard to form. There will still be days when the thought of getting out of bed is painful in itself, when life seems too stressful to face, when the thought of doing it all again brings dread. But if I can breathe in and sing my blessings even one more time this week than last, I know I’m learning to wake up right.