It’s 5:40 a.m. on the deck of my hermitage. The first rays of sun play in the branches of an enormous oak. The foliage in the foreground remains in shade as, suddenly, the light breaks through to brilliantly illumine an amphitheater of forest some way in the distance. An invitation to the eye, the heart, the imagination to dance in the mystery of that mosaic of branches and leaves, countless shades of dazzling green.
Challenged to stay with that much wonder and gratitude, I am reminded of Ukukunkula. It’s what the folks of Kantolomba turn to when words are insufficient, when so overwhelmed with gratitude, with amazement that such a thing could come to pass that they can only get down on their knees and bow—first bending forward, then laying on the right side, then the left, until they come once again to their knees.
I have a message of Ukukunkula to pass on to you.
It’s from Martha Mwansa. She is a member of the Living Compassion cooperative and the mother of Mary Mwansa, one of the two young women just accepted into nursing school. The tuition will be paid with a Living Compassion college loan.
The day Mary was accepted to college, Martha, tears in her eyes, performed the Ukukunkula ritual, looked Theresa in the eye and said, “This changes everything. Please pass this message to the entire Living Compassion family.”
And so we have.
May we all play in the mystery and wonder that what once seemed impossible has now come to pass.
In Gasshō
Jen C.