An Epiphany Song

Ken Medema shares wintry wisdom with The Cottage

Last Thursday, the paid subscribers at the Cottage gathered online for a live Zoom with Ken Medema. We talked about the recent Epiphany Now essay on wintery spirituality — a post that many of you read, commented on, and shared.

Of course, not every person who gets this newsletter is part of the paid subscriber community or attends the live Zooms. But I really wanted everyone to listen to the song Ken wrote for the evening. Ken, who was born blind, blended his experience of a boyhood night in the snow with my reflection of “dancing across the stars.” He helped us all see Epiphany with new eyes.

The weather in much of North America has turned cold and stormy. Many of you all might be snowed in this weekend. So, I excerpted the song from the longer recording hoping that Ken’s music will help you experience the revealing beauty of winter.

Enjoy. Stay warm. Feel free to share this post!

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Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
now you are uncurled and cover our eyes
with the edge of winter sky
leaning over us in icy stars.
Vines, leaves, roots of darkness, growing,
come with your seasons, your fullness, your end.
— Annie Finch

I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape — the loneliness of it; the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn't show.
— Andrew Wyeth

There’s just something beautiful about walking on snow that nobody else has walked on. It makes you believe you’re special.
— Carol Rifka Brunt

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