A book I read recently discussed tradition. Plucking that out of the greater context, I gave it more thought. Tradition roots us. Sometimes, not necessarily for the best, it defines us. We find comfort in the familiar, and meaning in what we share with those passed and those yet to come. Tradition offers continuity, maybe filling a need for ritual or one of connection when we live in an isolating and confused age. Tradition can also dry up and lose its juice. Repetition in itself is meaningless. ‘Because my father did it,’ hardly offers reason to continue something without the deeper understanding of why. Tradition originates as vision- edgy, imaginative, informed by spirit. Tradition begins as something new, inspired and intentional. Withered tradition has forgotten itself. When we fear change, when we grip tightly to form, the playful informant disappears. Change, that constant companion we may prefer to avoid, enlivens all we hold dear. May we invite the spark, however it arrives..