A cold, bright autumn November morning. A new down coat that covers my bottom.
Warm. Zipping up the two separate pieces of nylon filled with duck feathers I think, “may all beings be warm.”
I chanted the Guru Gita this morning. Do you know it? I chanted it every day during my second pregnancy.
At 38. With Ian (in belly).
I need to ask if he heard me.
No longer on that spiritual path I discover (still) much history:
Travel, marriage/divorce. Birth/betrayal.
I was looking for the “one” some ONE/thing who would tell me/show me.
But, you see, I love to sing/chant. Sanskrit is pure love in my throat.
Continuing to work with loss of someone who, although I didn’t know all that well or for very long and yet.
And yet, changed my life.
Irrevocably. How many opportunities have I been given in this life where I’ve been allowed to sit with the body right before/during and after he/she has left?
Some left quickly while others lingered. And you.
You hovered for nearly three hours. This completely odd juxtaposition of grief and shock and what, bliss?
No, complete freedom. You let me feel that didn’t you?
It could have happened that I paid no notice.
But, I did.
The veil, still thinner than one’s breath.
It seems a secret that gets carried around.
In me. I discover it one day in my left shoulder. Another day, in the occipital ridge.
At another time, the souls of my feet.
This embodiment is tricky business. It’s planting me more in my life.
While chanting, I watched as many storied memories floated by.
India: I have no proof I was there. No pictures. History stored.
In the gazebo.
3 am walk to the meditation hall while the dew master removed the crystallized wetness from each blade of grass. I see Baba’s statue dancing and I think I’ve finally arrived having had my first vision. Gurumayi psychically pierces my heart, I look up to see her heading directly towards me.
And you said, “what about me?”
And I thought, this was enlightenment.
And now a new now and here. Open wide. Edges softening.
My own intimacy, with myself. Allowing it to be.
Awake at three am to let out Tara. Left arm with pin point pain in a new location.
Piercing the fascia. It feels brown and full and sad.
Embodying one’s life isn’t thinking about being in the body or observing the motions/movements of the movement.
We are sensing organs. Everything is experienced through this sensing mechanism.
And, we are so much more that cannot even be named.
Another lexicon necessarily required.
And, appreciation. Complete. Full. Stunning.
An articulation of gratitude for atoms/molecules/awareness/teaching/children/lovers/sponsors/friends/beloved four-leggeds.
You are love.