The Real Secret of Christmas

The news is always unexpected.

A catch of wings in dull office cubicle.

A flutter of light,

of music, as we trim the tree, or unload the groceries.

A shake of sparks as handles swing above, rocking along the ceiling,

on the bus or on the subway.

A whisper.

A warning.

A promise. Be Ready. You are chosen!

Flaming angel wings startling us with strikes

against closed windows.

~

But as impossible as it might be, there is no unseeing

the flash of Seeing.

The burning seed has taken soil. The divine arrival is announced.

All there is now is to trust the dark gestation and

sacred inkling;

but without the legitimacy of a known father, doubts, criticisms,

even accusations

rise in challenge from many places.

We cannot change our life

or abandon what was before.

~

It's impossible.

Not safe.

Not the way of our beliefs, our plans, or the world we had envisioned

Not right!

But in the darkness bright stars ember - dark and light, light and dark,

like the Great Star in the East,

which only wise men knew to follow.

~

Our souls grow and get ready, our minds uncertain.

We feel it growing there, this Promise.

This new Life, somewhere deep within us.

This new consciousness and potential.

We cannot deny the signs and sacred portends,

that things can no longer be as they were.

A new child is coming!

The Divine to reconcile what could not be reconciled

before.

A sacred destiny awaits.

~

Our mind can only guide

as we seek a place for our soul to bring the dear child forth.

The heaviest travails always the closest to the end.

The longest hours always closest to the birth of sun,

at dawn.

~

At the final hour there is no room! No room at the inn.

Not for this new child we do not know.

All doors slam closed. All places taken!

No room for strangers, even those heavy in the hard travails of birth.

Maybe it's also fear,

maybe just exhaustion.

But there is no room at the inn.

No room for the new life.

No place here, we say, we reason.

No room.

~

But all is in it's order.

Finally the right place is found, the most humble of mangers

to welcome in

the holy child.

A stable place full of nature, our true nature,

in all its simplest forms.

The gentle heifer that nurtures and the innocent lamb.

The sow who knows the dirt, and darker places.

Even the foolish donkey -

stubborn enough to carry us, where all others would have given in.

Gentle animal-parts of being

surrounding the weary mother

and her new child,

as bright stars burn and angels sing, and doves descend,

the wise bowing low before this new spirit

and sacred consciousness.

As a whole new way of being, birthed to Life.

~

May this Birth now

be a collective one. ❤

~ Rachel Alana (R.A Falconer) and Midwives of the Soul

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