Today is “Thanksgiving Day” in the US. The modern holiday was established by Abraham Lincoln in 1863, though the first Thanksgiving is often linked to the 1621 harvest feast shared by the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag people.
Today is also the birthday of Eldon John Basham. As I write his name I have the thought, “Don’t ever name your child and call him or her by their middle name.” It makes a mess in the ordinary world.
I am awake before daylight (the likely result of my having once again gone to bed about 2 hours earlier than my ‘normal’ bedtime). Alexa is shuffling songs by Alan Jackson as I start working on a jigsaw puzzle. This one is of The Major Arcana — a collection of 22 Tarot cards that unveil the fundamental archetypes of human existence.
The subject of this puzzle opens up an inner dialog with what I came to call Holy Spirit many years ago as the name “God” dissipated in my thoughts and prayers. If I called out to God, whose God or which God would I be speaking to? YHWH is the Bible’s commonest name for God. Hinduism has the concept of 330 million gods, a symbolic number representing the infinite manifestations of the one supreme, formless reality called Brahman. There are the Greek Gods and the Roman Gods.
To many Native Americans, the Great Spirit is a supreme, all-encompassing force or being that represents the essence of the universe and all living things. It is often viewed as the creator of the world, a life force that is present in nature, and a source of guidance and harmony. The specific name and interpretation can differ between tribes, but the concept emphasizes the interconnectedness of all existence and a universal, divine power. Perhaps my tiny bit of Native American blood (the wonders of modern DNA testing) mingled with my Christian beliefs to influence my heart’s landing on the term Holy Spirit.
On this day I have so much to give thanks for and my heart also carries myriad impressions of the passing of my sister in January, and this past week of our long-time music friend, and the many dear ones navigating complex medical conditions — some at home and some hospitalized.
This brings to mind the true befuddlement of worshiping an “omnipresent god” while noticing or pointing out all of the places god is not. Maybe there are not 330 million gods, but when asking myself how does my heart hold simultaneously all of the grief and relief on this day of thanksgiving, the only answer that seems honest is to say, “How could the heart not?”
I saw this on the Facebook page of Daily Shaman:“If you’re looking for me, follow the stillness where the forest breathes between worlds. I walk the spiral path, where moss remembers and thresholds dream.”
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