Advent is a paradoxical season. A time of waiting and preparation, stillness and activity. A season of pilgrimage as we travel towards the Incarnation and towards the commonweal of God – given, yet still to come.
‘When today I speak of paradise, I am thinking of the one that msut be created with powers we do not have, ones we must invent; I think about the garden that must be created beyond the earth we know with earth we have to find. I think about the plants and forests that must not only be made to grow, but which we must be able to name, feed, and love. Because to make a paradise live, it must be endlessly thought about, willed again, every day it must be sprinkled with tears while we stroll through it with words of praise and encouragement. There is no paradise that can endure without a supply of everyday care’.
(Hélène Cixous, The Book of Promethea p. 61)