Ashes

Today is Ash Wednesday.  Not much meaning for me as a semi-sort-of Catholic . . and who has had her share of "ashes" over the years.  Plus, as a pragmatist (ok, I'm a philosopher first, but I do live in reality most of the time) I'm just really tired of all these people "pretending" through ritual to care for others. . .for a day.  Have you really seen anyone spend 40 days graciously caring for anyone and everyone who crosses their path?

I haven't. . although I'd like to be one of them ~ only I'd like to be one of them every day. A supporter, an activist, a promoter of kindness and caring.

The ashes should symbolize our determination to put others before ourselves, to practice our moral integrity.  For women, though, it seems that ashes are just a reminder of fires we must continually put out . . of fire-y anger that strikes when we say the "wrong" thing . . .of the fire of hell that those of us with anxiety worry about when we swear or lash out because we've had enough.

Crosses to bear . . .ashes. 

Today, those ashes remind me of all the women and girls around the world who still suffer at the hands of misogyny and abuse.  And I can only pray that the ashes on all of those foreheads (placed by the hands of men) are reminders to the rest of us that in these next forty days (and hopefully then throughout the year) that we can keep them in our hearts and in our prayers. . .however we may "pray". . .
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That we will "weep with those who weep" in solidarity and good consciousness.  That we will put our heads and our hearts together to be creative in our efforts, large and small . . to participate in the movement from ritual to everyday practice of caring and supporting each other throughout our lives. . .regardless of the color of our skin, the place where we were born, the "religion" of our ancestors . . .

May our actions replace our ashes as a symbol of being extraordinary, ordinary women.