(wow) Words Of Wonders Level 2118 Answers

Cathy Lloyd February 11, 2023

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(wow) Words Of Wonders Level 2118 Answers – We miss the holiday approach when we need it most. But even dark, uncertain times can hold sparks of love and light.

For centuries, people around the world have been building small religious objects, often referred to as “pocket shrines.” Most of them consist of a small container – a leather or cloth paper, a wooden or metal capsule, a matchbox or even a flask – containing a figure or image.

(wow) Words Of Wonders Level 2118 Answers

Sometimes we leave something, sometimes something is taken away and sometimes something breaks, like life, hearts, lifestyles. Doesn’t our world feel broken during COVID-19, perhaps especially when the holidays come?

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If we are wise, we avoid large gatherings, dinners at home with family and old friends, services at mosques, temples, churches – just like that, in this time of devastation, when we need them most. we are missing out on rituals and gatherings that are joyful and deep. But does that mean we lose the care, connection and holy silliness that ceremonies provide?

Maybe we can keep ourselves completely holy if we save ourselves and our loved ones. Maybe a breakup isn’t the end of the world. The new start may be broken, the portal.

The word comes from whole, sound, sound, complete. I don’t always feel whole these days. Yes, I often feel frustrated, sad, mad, existentially exhausted, and depressed. I want a good burning desert now, but the holy one doesn’t just come from the Divine I understand. It depends on life.

The Saint is not a show, the Rockettes on the Taj Mahal stage, with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir. Often it is felt in small favors and blessings, although you must be careful to understand the importance of the moment. This is the problem. It is always around us, above us, below us and within us. It is, but often we are not.

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I put the altar at home: it reminds me of flying feathers, weightless, grace; something from the beach that tossed and whipped, was beautiful with turbulence.

Perhaps our definition of holiness and wholeness should be changed. The morning is blessed. The blessed warmth of a grocer or grandchild, or a bowl of homegrown tomatoes from a neighbor who once reported you to Nextdoor. I am full, healthy, old, slower, with a few vices.

Menorah candles or Christmas carolers or shared fire are sacred. These days are about the arrival of light – warmth, understanding, new life. The triumph of light over darkness, as in the Persian tradition of Yalda: meeting loved ones by candlelight and fire, reading poems and stories – and the inevitable sacrament of eating special foods – to celebrate the longest night of the year. It’s called “The Night of the Birth”. We are here now. It is beautiful and difficult, as it often is in life. Suffering is part of the beauty of human drama. (I hate her.)

Finding the sacred in the midst of loss can feel like a rude spiritual awakening. It may be a secular return to rituals that your people have performed for millennia – our people have always done so, so should we – or creating new rituals that you love. (Lightning, heels and evening gowns?)

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All this provides a connection to a larger, more real world, to an ancient, timeless and luminous being. Rituals fill our souls and our stomachs. They focus, redirect, reinforce. (Kids need holiday traditions – even if this year is a bad one)

Everything – the whole system of our life, family, travel – stopped. So if we have a broken one, where do we start to fix it?

A possible solution is how the ancient Japanese repaired broken flowers with gold on the repaired spots. You dishonor things if you don’t admit they are broken. By correcting them you appreciate them. Gold stones add beauty to broken things. They decorate the cracks so that they are now really visible. (And as Leonard Cohen reminds us, that’s how the light comes in.)

On a visible level, gold is an appreciation that comes from listening with gratitude for the rest: We appreciate the great things, the gifts of life, love, nature. But don’t forget the beautiful shop windows, your books, the carefully selected items that connect us with memories and people. I raise my eyes not only to the mountains and stars, but also to the rays of my room, to the view from the windows. I enjoy the fresh air when I open them; it’s homesick. All this expands me. And I enjoy Oreos instead of the double chocolate cake of death that Becca brings for the holidays.

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Over the centuries, great shrines have been built out of devotion to love (think the Taj Mahal) or religion—and similarly, people around the world have built smaller versions. These “pocket shrines” are often carried by soldiers; Many of them from both world wars are still alive. Most of them consist of a small container – a leather or cloth paper, a wooden or metal capsule, even a flask – containing a figure or image. Today, pocket shrines can be made from matchboxes and are dedicated to many sects. Counselor Carla Helbert, who uses shrines in grief therapy and therapy, says they help “maintain a much-needed connection with a loved one or create a sacred space to remember or participate in a personal ritual.” . – Patricia Edmonds

But still I miss my beloved communities, for my family, for the song and the holy silence of the church, for the eternal crowd of people who always came to dine with us. I like touch. I miss the holidays, the good vibes in the dark times, and even the loud holiday sounds. Loud noises drive away evil spirits. Most of all, I miss my skin.

Left to myself, I’m scared. But I didn’t leave it to myself: I have friends and dreams. After COVID-19, I first imagined us as our own planets. We can celebrate our homes, with our quirky personalities and the ones we’ve been stuck with, which can tickle our last veins. (I won’t name names.) But in my current situation, that canvas was too big. So I decorated my house like one of those shiny matchboxes that friends had given me over the years, with Mother Mary on the cover or Frida Kahlo, with symbols of hope and faith in them: packets of Cimayo Healing Mud, an origami crane , a spray of dried bluebells, heart.

Then I built altars around the house. Feathers remind us of flight, weightlessness, grace. A mini-scroll featuring a line from Woodstock-era peace activist Wavey Sauce: “Don’t be afraid to fight, don’t be afraid to laugh.” And something from the sea, stirring and moving through turbulence to beauty.

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We can build an altar on a kitchen island—which, if you’re like me, we often find—or in an actual matchbox.

Life always wants to remind us of its sacred nature, but we have to open our eyes and hearts. Yes our hair looks like hell and we are out of shape and we don’t love our partner and we shouldn’t have kids, but God what a sun. And I really appreciate having a roof over my head. Outside in the rocky sand there is a nice patch of grass and grass. Poppies – Feners: Light over darkness, good over evil. Light your lantern with your love. cut it

We don’t feel in many people’s shoes, but we have an embroidered Emmy scarf, left by our grandfather, our first instrument my aunt put together for our eighth birthday, even though we were girls. They are as sacred as the statues and tapestries that we see in mosques, temples, zendos and ashrams. We hold them close to us to remind us of love.

The point of this pandemic is that we are all vulnerable and connected. This is much more than a virus, because love and care are more important than anything else – despite or especially pain.

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It goes without saying that we post pictures of the people we love and miss: the connection is deeper than the physical, deeper than the physical, and the connection is much deeper than talking. It is in the fullness of the mind, capillary system, breathing ether and memories. Of course, we also play our spiritual music – hymns, kirtan, klezmer, arethe – or listen to the sound of the wind, visible wind.

Then — drama roll — we pick up the phone or go on Zoom and, by prior arrangement, arrive at Kwanza on New Year’s Eve, when Shabbat or Solstice begins. We say: “Hey you!” Just as we used to at weddings and funerals, we now bring them everywhere else we go, whether on the phone or walking around the neighborhood, wearing masks and shaking hands.

No matter the field, there can be a sense of direct transfer. Life has removed some of the cut cords of our emotional pains – yes – and we appreciate what’s left. We make eye contact and it makes us cry together; We agreed: it is very intimate. Everyone’s voice

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