I RISE between winter and summer for the promise of a rain dance.
COME AWAY from the worry and the noise and the hurry and the wait into the blackest of nights where the smallest of stars shines her extravagant light and you may hear this holy melody in the silence of your own being.
SO IT IS TODAY waking in a mist of pain my eyes open and the mist fades slowly away. A new day.
So it is today, Tears that flow like sorrow from the rarest of blooms in the forest are wiped away
Looking up to find the light from the shadows you appear looking at me
Eyes soft and focused melting this old wall that contains my heart Naked am I
Breathe is timid – no sound no fear not now I am still here
Seeing you seeing me tears are gone and there are no words You are here
So it is today, in the warmth of your light I breathe in and am saturated
DOGS SLEEPING at my feet the sound of busy markers on thick paper the sniffle of a small nose a five-year-old voice singing kindergarten songs.
I woke listening to cranes and then red-winged blackbirds on the ‘cranecam’ from the Platte River. Now in our backyard the bluejays are really hollering about something from way up in the trees. A chickadee comes in close to balance the screams with her gentle dee-dee dee-dee-dee. The jays are unaffected by this and continue their relentless game. Perhaps they are the protectors – issuing the alarm and badgering a threat such as an owl or hawk.
The calls have changed from a one note scream to two notes and less urgent. There are several voices and without seeing any of this I would guess the threat has passed. The 2 note call seems to be a congratulating and reinforcing of the community that formed to accomplish such a formidable task.
One voice starts and is immediately copied by several others – and now other voices I don’t recognize join the chorus, as if to celebrate also and say thanks to the jays for protecting them all… And now the voices are coming from a wide community of melodic singers as they settle back into praising the day.
From Seattle to Minneapolis, on the way home again. Friday, March 22 2019
What a beautiful few days. It still surprises me to be met so beautifully by a group of people like this. Sacred and holy ground. As strangers, holding space for one another as we walk together and pray together and find safe space with one another. We gradually allow ourselves to relax and open and become vulnerable – even to the point where we can see the divine so clearly in one another. We discover tears in our eyes and fall on our knees. To look, to gaze with open eyes into the bottomless pool of my own Beloved through the eyes of this stranger in front of me. Freely given and openly received. Aaah! Ahava.
I find myself trying to hold on to these moments, to savor them, extend them. I fold them up as we walk finally away and tuck them carefully in a secret pocket. Fingers again find this folded memory and linger – touching, squeezing more essence into it.
Yet these moments are eternal. We cannot lose them. They exist in us always! Ever ready to be found again & again – pushed and remembered and even embellished. Yet there is no possible embellishment that can reach the sacred mystery which allowed these diamond breaths in time to be created in the first.
I invite you not to keep these diamonds in your secret pocket but place them foolishly in your crown. And wear this crown not only when you are holding court, but also when you are travelling the dark and narrow shadow roads. Especially when you are washing dishes and folding laundry.