At a loss for words

Well, sort of, Gentle Reader.  Events have once again turned my perspective over and rolled it down a hill.  It seems I am looking up at the sky now at long last, which while a bit blinding is still superior to rolling through rocks and spiky brush as has been the recent experience.

As if The World, which is both too much and not enough with us, were not enough.  Hope springs eternal in my little mind and I still expect to, and do, continue to see miracles- which let’s face it, seem to be what it’s going to take to pull us back from the black hole event horizon we’re skidding toward globally.  As if the fish hooks in my own mind aren’t dug in deep enough to keep me busy extracting them FOREVER.  No, there’s more.

And as usual that more has to do with death.

This time it flattened me, although the Partner says it always does.  When you do healing work, oddly enough you encounter a lot of death.  I still find this surprising even though it is largely what propelled me into this in the first place.  I needed to understand.  There’s a lot of abiding with people, clearing and holding, and there’s always hope somehow.  Even though we know we are all going to pass through that door one day, and even though we do so in small ways every day, it’s still kind of….abrupt.  Well, it’s FINAL, isn’t it?  Nothing more to be done.  Although in truth? There’s generally not anything to be “done”- it just has to “be”.   It’s active participation in a moment, a letting fly of an arrow in reliance on inner balance, knowing that the target may or may not have moved and it is the participation itself that is important.

In that “being” I guess we experience the truth of death in a way, which is that we are glad the person has passed through their travail. There’s a light and shine to it, oddly, and no matter what. We are also thrashed with our feeling of loss, of being at a loss, of confronting something that is part of us but to which we don’t always feel equal.  Something that isn’t going to surrender its mystery lightly.  Or in words.

Then there is that journey that pulls your skin off with thorns while you are looking up at the majestic spangled night sky and smelling the odd spring in the depths of the winter air.  It always feels like winter at such times, whether it is or not, to me.

There is, also, the awareness of being on top of a huge sea- with everyone you’ve ever known floating through it, all the decisions that have been made and actions taken moving like swift currents beneath your gaze.  It is hard to know how closely one cleaves to the middle way at times like that- was that action from the heart?  Did one do the right thing?  What, after all, is the point?  Things seem equally possible and useless from that vantage point.   Because of course, we really don’t know much about these immutable pieces of our existences.  Why am I here doing this now instead of somewhere else?

At the same time, if you’ve been practicing as though your hair was on fire- is there any other way?, you may see a light in the dark that seems to say, keep going and do your best.  It’s all you can do.

 

 

 

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