Tiredness lies at my feet and a blank page winks at me.

She says: Write. She says: Light the kindle. She says: Seek to listen to learn. She says: Meaning finds meaning, each time.

The dance begins. I hear the wind play a background to a moon I can’t see but who leads. I go forward then back. I sway beneath a curtain of night. I listen to the stars harmony twinkling in my eyes. I take my fingertips and tap into a reservoir blossoming image and cadence.

My heart sings.

I begin to find energy. I listen to the youngest kitty, almost 9 weeks, scale the chair where I am seated. The fan’s hum becomes a chant of Om in my ear. A Buddha rests behind my computer screen. The top of his head taunts mine where I seek peace between the lines.

I don’t think—I move the feeling that moves me.

We all suffer. Suffering can be tugging at the roots of the lotus beyond a place of now or it can be seeing the bud above will die with the season to know: this too shall pass. There is always more muck and there are always more buds.

No mud, no lotus.

You know the saying am sure. For I find the toughest challenges hold the bloom’s nectar and like a bee, those challenges give more flowers and plant more roots so joy’s aroma can fill each moment.

Joy. We cannot hold it. We cannot save it. We cannot bury it. But we can be it.

The kindle burns and makes light. The fire thrives on the night air. I don’t need the heat as it is summer in a humid city and I have no air conditioning. I do need the energy. I need to let it burn suffering in the alchemical pot and feel the dross drip from my mind and free my heart.

Then I can be.

Alchemy is complicated. The true metal is the soul. The gold comes in a faith knowing cannot define. The gold comes in the mortality of a body that holds a soul time denies. The gold is love’s joy rooting into moment after moment.

The gold is the moment.

I say all great teachers and all the great teaching comes down to three words: Be here now.

Simplicity confuses.

We think we can think life through and figure things out. I believe I cannot know the mind of the Divine. I believe the Divine has no mind. I believe only humanity can limit the Divine and Divine never limits humanity.

Such is my faith.

Now I want to paint a swirl of colors shooting above the fire. I want you to see the Phoenix I see. I want you to lay thought in the pyre and let your heart grow wings. I want you to join me in knowing nothing dies. I want you to believe all rise.

My friend finds death often. I don’t.

My theory is I will live a long time so I can know death.

Loss and I are good friends but that’s true for most 54 year old’s. And there is no loss that does not return to me a lotus with a thousand petals.

I dive deep into the muck sometimes. I whine about my broken heart. Yet somewhere inside this heart of mine there is the realization of healing’s magic. The magic flutters behind my belly and continues to birth butterflies. The butterfly lives to die, to be beauty for a moment, and fly.

Namaste I say, for sharing my night. Namaste for touching the butterfly in my heart and giving her reason to spread her wings. Namaste I say for the blessings in my life and for the ability to bow my head to grace who always bows to me.

 

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Ed: Bryonie Wise

{Photo: via Susan on Pinterest}