I want to do my practice close to the earth. I want to let the light come in through one crack at a time, not all at once. I want to stay with these unsteady places, one moment at a time. I don't want to come into fullness just yet, not too quickly. Let me revel in this authentic moment, listen for the crackling of this page of my life as it turns slowly in one or the other direction. I want to be with her, the lonely one, the one whose heart bears the burdens of the world. Why does she do this? What message is she trying to scratch into the earth?
"I want to come home now," she whispers into my ear. I have to be gentle and slow or she will retreat. "I want you to know me just as I am. I don't want you to push me toward someone else's image of who I am. I want you to feel the cracks and crevices that have been etched into my form. I am humanity's soul and I am your own." I pause, grateful for little to distract me in this moment. I begin to remember why this flavor is delectable all on its own. It brings on the fullness of time. It pours on the slow and ancient wisdom like lava slowly descending to create a more fertile land.
Oh, I remember, I know some more of who I am than I did a moment ago. I am grateful the sun is not shining more brightly, grateful for the soft cloud cover that allows the shadows to be revealed in me with all that they offer up through my soul.
When I place my hand on you I hope you will recover some more of this in your own deep garden, in the place that was hidden from you once, but came home again when you were ready to listen and receive more, and more, and more...
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