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Possibilities


There is a softness that I access without the mind. There is release of a gripping sensation around the heart and head. The breath flows with more ease, as if a dam has given way. The sides of the mouth curve up gently, as something smiles within.

Most mornings I wake up, and feel the burden of my mind, that drags old beliefs, old fears, old judgements around with it, as I journey forth, as I ride the waves of the mighty sea. Like barnacles crusting over an old ship, they ride with me, and mistaken for alive, I grant them sanctuary, no matter that they enshroud the splendor of my spirit, and weigh me down.

The cantankerous passengers have formed so gradually over time, and have been with me for so long, that I don't remember what it felt like to be shiny and new. I might feel incomplete without their company.

And yet I notice, I am still afloat.

I turn inward. I recognize the weariness of being at sea for so long, at staring out into the emptiness and not really seeing, because I'm still looking for something I haven't found. But it has been so long since there was the promise of land that sometimes I forget what it is I'm even searching for-- but I look anyway.

It used to be the promise of a quiet bit of paradise, the bounty to sustain-- freedom, whatever that means. But after many days under scorching sun, coupled with the unpredictable turn of the weather, I'm not even sure paradise is what I want anymore. And what if all that I've taken on has compromised the ship? What if the bottom is rusted over, and it can't withstand the breaking of the rocky shoreline?

And I can't ignore something that tells me that the shade of the foliage on dry land might not be enough after a while, not better than my cabin below anyway. It might even get a little suffocating to live where the sky is obscured by a thick jungle canopy. And the stability of land, quiet and still beneath my feet-- might it not give way to dreams about sailing into the open sea, to be part of the whim of such a mighty maestro?

I might miss his capriciousness. Who's to say? I've tired of him at the moment.

I turn inward again. This time I witness the part of me holding out to be rescued. From what?

From both: sea and land-- And then what? Maybe, to be rescued again?

I turn even further inward, shedding all of my story, until there is no more mast to be steered, until there is no more ship at all, no more ocean, no more dreams of paradise, and setting foot on dry land.

The mind fades into silence. The body fades too, and any meaning with it.

Clear. Newborn. There is only the breath now, and the silence between the inhale and the exhale. The present moment-- and I am light. I am the sun that shines effortlessly over the sea, with the magic to dance and sparkle as I skim over the top, and penetrate its depths; no longer a divide between earth and sky-- but who would notice, what with the spectacular display of luminescence, never choreographed, but somehow revealing the most extraordinary of patterns.

There is no past. There is no future. There is no body. There is no separation.

And herein exist all the possibilities, all the promise. And the peace. I can't forget the peace. Although, in this space there is no distinction of anything really. And so language runs out.

The word 'love' would be perhaps the closest description, but only if it has shed all that it has ever conjured up in you before.

I smile and find myself back in what I believe is my body. I open my eyes to this new day.

And oh the possibilities...

Comments

  1. wow. I kind-of just want to leave it at "wow," because i don't think i have the words to describe how deeply touching this was.

    You took me somewhere i want to go back to again and again, somewhere that is nowhere. somewhere we can all "go" at any moment.

    What a gift you are.

    ReplyDelete
  2. You blew me away with this one.

    Loved the descriptions.

    What a shift last weekend was for you.

    ReplyDelete

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