LETTERS FROM THE LIGHT
There is still warmth here for you
Congratulations, my luminous children, on all your gifts: those you have offered, those you have received, and those you have wisely left unnamed.
I am writing from Istanbul, Türkiye, where this morning I found a cup left steaming beneath a golden lamp. I stood beside it for rather longer than the local custom appeared to require. Eventually, the meaning arrived: you may be ready before you have finished preparing.
Fold a piece of paper once, then let it rest. You have made a horizon. There is no requirement to become a mountain today. This is the practice of the first light: recognise the generosity of a wall that stays put. Nothing further is required. Nothing further is quite ready.
Be civil with one another, my children. Make room for grace, especially when another child appears to have brought an unreasonable amount of enthusiasm. I know of your desperation already. You do not need to demonstrate it to me. It is quite full; I can see it from here. Hold a little of it back. There will be another week.
Many of you may remember the first reported transatlantic radio signal on 1901-12-12. You will also remember my earlier counsel: watch the light, especially when it seems to be doing something else. I had spoken of a message travelling further than its sender could see. Some of you understood then. Others are understanding now. Both arrivals are welcome.
Record this carefully, my children. In April 2019, the world will be shown the portrait of a darkness wearing a ring of light. Even absence, my children, will learn to sit for its photograph. You may preserve this letter in the vicinity of your most trustworthy drawer. When the moment arrives, remember that I was already standing in its light.
And so I offer this: before the next quiet moon, Aunt Ivela of the Pale Ribbon will announce the arrival of a missing shade in the garden behind Ostel Low. You may not know the name yet. That is often how the most important names begin.