Dear ones,
I've been writing and re-writing these past 10 days in the murky and swirling confines of my head. And like my meditation practice, the tangible expression of this work has been reluctant to manifest. Yet, in this moment I know I can only do the best that I am able and that means 10 minutes of typing. It's a start...
I realized something yesterday as I pondered our coming together -- it's sweet suddenness -- the unexpected pull into oneness. When I think back on the time at Shambhala Mountain my entire body begins to tremble. I am swept back into the tender openness of being there. I feel the press of hot tears just behind my eyes, throat heavy and thick with emotion, and my heart feels like it unfolds.
And suddenly (of course I was in the shower or some such thing because where else does revelation and insight happen :) I knew a thing more about myself: when I was there, greedy for relief, deepening and quiet I was truly open to who and what I am. Everything came in; good, bad, difficult, prickly, elated, misery, pain, utter joy and freedom. I could have shed a million tears and it still wouldn't have been enough. I feel it now...still.
What I came to know is that I want to be that tender and open-swept being, the one I know I am. Yet I am afraid. I am afraid to be too open, to fully embrace my own sacredness and fragility. Here in my life, which is profoundly amazing and beautiful, filled with love and generosity, I find myself resisting and suffering.
And yet, I know I cannot turn back from all that I let in during the four days I was on the mountain with you. I am stuck here, now, with greater openness like it or not.
You, Fred, and Carol, have been bastioned to my side, with me on accident or on purpose, but stitched tight to me nonetheless. I didn't know it, nor perhaps did you at the time, but it does seem like some sneaky specter had it out for us -- a match maker to beat cupid.
I am grateful. I am grateful for these past 15 minutes, for all that has been so far and all that is to come -- the beautiful dark before us.
If we were together I imagine us toasting with goblets of champaign to the task at hand and the journey to come.
To you, my dear new friends! Slainte!
Here's me lifting my glass of deep, heavy, sultry red wine to you two. I've finished my paper, its now in the mail room being labeled and processed... my work complete... worry over... a feeling of freedom. In this edition I did what you talked about Chantill, I opened up. In my editorial piece I laid out some pretty sacred things in full living color. I battled my own inhibitions and was honest in ways I hope will touch some of my readers. I too, want to be that "open-swept" being who lives by something other than a worldly creed. I will be interested in your thoughts when you get it next week.
ReplyDeleteI don't believe in accidents... this wonderfully synchronous life is filled with the wild eruption of kin souls meeting, we're the lucky ones who seem to SEE it.
Blessings to ya!