Stars or . . . Not Stars

Do you know The Desiderata? It’s that wonderful poem/prayer for many years allegedly by Anonymous but really written and copyrighted by Max Ehrmann in 1927. There is a line in the poem whose title means desired things that has always spoken to me.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Do you feel like the universe is unfolding as it should? I do. Most days. Most moments. Whether I like how it’s unfolding is another matter altogether.

Ten years ago this year, my mother died. She was my last living parent, and I miss her terribly sometimes. Aching with longing. Wishing for . . . what? The option to talk to her. Not, you’ll note, wishing to talk to her, but wishing for the option to talk to her. To be able to pick up the phone and just . . . chat.

I got a catalogue in the mail the other day. An ordinary catalogue full of cute stuff. Flipping through it, I came across a calligraphic plaque of an Eskimo legend.

Perhaps they
are not
Stars,
but rather openings in Heaven
where the
love of
our lost ones
pours through
and shines down
upon us
to let us know
they are
happy.

I thought of The Desiderata. I may not be a child of living parents at the current perfectly-unfolding moment. Instead, I am a child of the universe itself. I take my place along with the trees and the stars, and like them, orphaned or not, not only do I have a right to be here, but it is right that I am here.

Sometimes it does not feel clear to me that the universe is unfolding as it should. If it were, I think to myself, my mama would be available by phone.

My spirit cries out to her. Mama, I miss you! And, I am so glad to know that you are happy.

When next you have a chance, visit with the stars/not stars, and let the love of your lost ones pour through your spirit.