Even in the smallest hours I can feel it. I can hear it. The energy all around. Electricity becomes pure Sensation, like the trembling breast of a morning Dove. His eyes so black as his wings fill with music and define him.
My body speaks an internal language to me. Almost always there is information coming in. Even in sleep. There is no end to the flow. It rolls over with undulating consistency out of reach of clocks and finite things. It breathes in and out of space and time. These explanations go far beyond my abilities and visions. I do not believe that we have come here to understand the fourth and fifth dimensions. I am but a humble prayer warrior hoping to remember the small light within the bleak storm of disillusion that has become of my tribe.
The pain of the world is too great I always say. It is far too great to return to any innocence. The balance of hope and despair has undeniably tipped. Lost are the legions of ancestors. Our elders fall away one by one and teachers are scarce. There are so many things that we have forgotten that it seems as though truth itself will vanish and there is nothing to do but witness. The steel box of the world and the ambitious movement to expand has only ever been a pathway to suffering. This to us as human beings has been proven and tested yet we return again and again with different rationalizations. Human instinct hovers on the brink of insanity and there are no true leaders. We will have a long march home.
Still, ... on this night the wind is high and fierce. The spirits seem to freely roam and there is so much air and mischief all around. The sky is touching the ground with her primal lust and all the things are blowing about and losing their strength. The earth can call so gently on us and our structures. We know how easily they can all come down like matchsticks. My heart is absorbing a pulse of energy. Not a calm one, but a stab of passion here and there like the taunts of a lover that has control and wants to draw out the pleasure in his own good time. My eyes are tired and when I close them I can feel the vibration between my temples, between my ribcage, my legs.... It is too much, too strong and too loud. My throat catches as I sense the ever familiar overwhelm coming on. I am almost at a stance of labeling the experience as unpleasant and setting about the arduous and almost always fruitless process of waiting for it to pass.
But I will try to surrender first. I will let my body float back. I drift ever back and picture my hands unclenched, fingers long and relaxed. My hair floats with a slow milky quality as my quiet self reclines into the fluide of the present moment. The wind takes my weight, I give myself over to it. I can still hear the vibration, but it is only sound. Music is sound and this is no different. I can release judgement of how I think it should be, just for a moment.
And here in this place I can see once again. The wind will remind my heart that with every sadness there has been a greater joy. With every moment of pain there has been an hour of ecstasy. There may be hate so rich in this time but also there is still love. Love is more potent. It holds more power. Not because it is better or worse, softer, more terrible or wrong or even right. Love is more powerful simply because it is easier to see. The dark parts of the heart begin as a secret, skulking about veiled in dissalusion. Hiding behind excuses and other thin soup there is no proud revelation. There is no clear view into darkness, it is a maze. There are many choices along the way and all are obscured by fleeting masks of promised pleasure.
Love, though is simple. Love is honest to a fault. Love is sung from rooftops for all to see. Love is naked and without shame. You can see love from a great distance and touch it with all the senses. All you have to do is ask and it reveals its nature in a million forms. The closer to the light the greater the shadow but the light is the light and that is real. There may be horrors in this dimention, but the Love and beauty that I feel in this place are staggering and when I think about it, I feel a pulling between my very shoulder blades as if the joy is so great it would birth to me wings and set my flesh to flight.
Comments