Each month community members share their stories to shine a light on the “why” of WholeHeart. We extend thanks to Stacy Raphael for her voice and her personal / professional courage that inspires so many people in the community ~~~
A year ago, I returned to teach in-person in the middle of a global pandemic, while continuing with WholeHeart through a virtual year in our Courage Cohort--a community with whom I have been engaged for the past decade. Crossing the threshold into this school year, I had the opportunity to reflect on that year: one of slowing down and paying attention-- with Courage retreats acting as springboards for creating and composing, noting and noticing. The following is a brief excerpt from that reflection.
Dar Williams has this song, February, that makes me cry every time but somehow draws me in, too. We do indeed live through metaphorical Februaries, and we are changed by them. The song’s filled with bittersweet redemption: we will walk through darkness; we may get lost. Somewhere, though, through the cold and the fear and the forgetting there is the power to remember ourselves into another season, renewal, and emergence. Courage can light the way.
This is how I muddled through the winter of 2020-21. Our family began to light ourselves head to toe in LED Christmas lights and walked through our small city nightly, decked out like mobile Christmas trees. We walked each night into the darkest part of the year and continued until the light began to stretch slightly longer each evening. In some ways, our family was thriving in the pandemic in ways that continued to surprise me. I secretly reveled in the warmth of candlelight and the intimacy of family when all other events have been cancelled indefinitely. I could feel the rhythm of our lives intertwined, no longer rushing to and fro to the next scheduled thing. Everything was still and bright. At our February retreat, I celebrated this light, composing the poem, Shine.
Spring arrived, and we wove magic into our quiet home life, reading the Hobbit out loud each night in March in front of the fire after our evening walk. I kept wondering if the spell would be broken and I’d fall into some abyss, unable to recapture the magic we were experiencing. But a pattern emerged--new to me: the world continued to be broken, full of heartache and impossible suffering and it held exquisite beauty at every turn that I was able to see and appreciate. The paradox of the beauty within the imperfect--a concept Zen Buddhists call Wabi-Sabi-- continued to sustain me as the world began to wake up.
I arrived at our Spring retreat, alive with attention and giddy with gratitude. So much of my journey through the school year was shaped into something with substance and meaning because of my involvement with WholeHeart’s contemplative communities. That early May morning, I embraced the prompt to Welcome The Sun, a reminder that joy comes from being present… in all of the messy complexity of living:
...It can feel startling to realize
that all this beauty--it’s right here.
all around me. all within me.
so I welcome myself to this moment
because I’ve just recently arrived--
to greet the sun and the soul;
welcoming the warmth from within
and without.
Stacy Raphael is a middle/high school humanities teacher in rural Addison County and has been part of the Vermont Courage Cohort for over 10 years. Originally from Seattle, she met and married a Vermonter and eventually settled in Vergennes, where they are raising two awesome, kind, and funny kids, Spoon the Cat and a goldendoodle named Ozzy. Outside of teaching and parenting, Stacy is a songwriter and musician and volunteers for too many things.