Uncontrollable Mystery

As I write at dusk today, December 21, the daylight has reached its minimal interaction with us for this year.   

As it takes it’s leave, it is easy to become aware of that which is unlit in our lives. The yearning for the return of light to guide the way is loud in our soul. These primitive and beautiful feelings have turned the human heart to the light many thousands of trips around the sun. And far before us humanoids ever knew of that turning from dark to light, the animals and plants and all of life have known the rhythm of entering darkness, the preparations of the spirit and body for the hungers and needs of winter, and the waiting and watching for light to return again.     

This Christmas season, may you feel the absence that makes way for the Presence.    

Please enjoy a poem by William Butler Yeats entitled “The Magi”. As you read it once, twice, or perhaps a third time, let “the uncontrollable mystery” invite your mind and soul.    

Kirk Webb
(Director and Founder of the Celtic Center)

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The Magi

by William Butler Yeats

Now as at all times I can see in the mind’s eye,

In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones

Appear and disappear in the blue depths of the sky

With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,

And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,

And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,

Being by Calvary’s turbulence unsatisfied,

The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.