I love Ash Wednesday

. . . for a couple of reasons:

1.The return to dust/reminder of our mortality is a favorite theme of mine (in life and in writing)--and the Catholic Church gets ritual right: you have to give them that;

2.It marks the beginning of lent, and I love lent: the notion of meditating on suffering that leads to rebirth;

3.10 years ago I went to Ash Wednesday mass in Dublin with a dear friend there, so I always think of him and how I feel like we consecrated our friendship on that day. That mass also marks a personal turning point for me;

4.It means Paddy's Day is near!

I didn't actually go to mass today, although I tried to make it work. Teaching, going to the gym, going to class, going to the orthodontist, getting work done and sleeping in all took precedence. But my heart was in the day and its significance. I spent lots of time thinking about Kiki's mom--he was waiting to hear the results of her most recent scan. She has skin cancer and they were afraid she found a previously undetected mass. Turns out it was scar tissue. He cried with relief. I declared, "Not turning to ashes yet, bitches!" He laughed. That shit's better than mass.

I don't give up anything for lent. I kind of like the idea of penance, but I don't need that ritual to connect with or be reminded of suffering and death. I do go to La Mexicana Mercado and eat their Friday fish stew specials, mostly because I like hanging around Mexicans in their dusty bakery and cafe. I also love Easter, not because I believe in the literal resurrection of Christ, but because I love the promise of spring and seeing the daffodils poke their golden heads through the frozen earth; and I believe in new life, new love, endless possibility, transformation and reclamation.

No ashes, no giving up chocolate or martinis. But lots of thought and heart. This is the gift of choosing Catholicism because its practices fit my pagan soul, not because my 'rents forced me to participate in institutionalized traditions before they made sense or exposed me to such horrible, pervasive images as the Sacred Heart of Jesus bursting out of his chest (not to mention real, live, damaged, criminal, mentally ill authority figures) as a wee child. Score for liberal humanist ideals in parenting!

Anybody else love today? Or did you enjoy Phat Tuesday more--who has a good Mardi Gras story? I do: New Orleans 1995. But I'll save that for another time. Anybody eat those Polish donuts filled with prunes I don't know how to spell--something like paczkis? I did. My favorite Polish colleague brought some in. I sucked the prunes out of the middle and wished they were poppy seeds instead. My Bohemian blood trumps my Polish sympathies, what can I say?

More than enough.