The Guild

I was flipping turkey burgers when someone tapped on the front door. Mom put down the pie knife, turned away from the cornbread, and gazed out the dining room window. “Becky! Come in!” she called.

Becky was a tiny woman who had shrunk inside her skin, leaving the gray memory of a 1950’s hairdo perched atop a wrinkled smile. Mom and Becky hugged, and I flipped burgers onto a serving dish.

Other members of the Guild arrived in quick succession – women of all ages and levels of education with a common interest in spinning, dying, weaving fabrics, and comfort foods. Each brought an offering of food to add to the common abundance. There were fruit plates, donuts, ham and beans, bagels and cream, macaroni and cheese, intricately carved vegetables, and chocolate, peach, and blackberry pies.

When everyone had arrived and the offerings were assembled, they moved into the living room to begin their monthly meeting.

I walked over to the warm corn bread, picked up the pie knife, and moved into my heart. Smiling, I aligned with the angel of corn – that great being who is the substance of maize – and asked that it pour its light, its blessing, into the cornbread. I breathed that light into my heart, and out to the bread.

In and out, in and out, in and out – permeating the bread with light, and holding it there for our family and guests who would soon eat it.

In my heart, I gave thanks to the angel, and then I cut the cornbread.

Namaste,

Glen

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