Alive but not born
Small changes in perspective
Winter seeds and spring
Behold Your Life Day 5: Birth
Today's the day. After nine months of rest and growth you are called to make your entry. Dragged out of the house by strangers, no one is happy until you are crying, at which point you are introduced to someone you know, someone who calms you simply with her presence, someone who exudes love from every pore. Happiness pervades the atmosphere, you can feel it in every pore of your body even though you can't name it or even know what it is.
The first step on your pilgrimage has been taken. You have arrived at the trail head. For some the walk will be long, for others not so. For some it will be easy and enjoyable, for others less so. For some it will be a constant struggle. For all, it will be a never ending series of lessons learned, absorbed, discarded, and forgotten. Lessons sought out, lessons offered, and lessons forced. Life will be both a strict disciplinarian and a loving nanny. Two-faced, two-sided, she will wear the mask required for the lesson on the table.
If only we could have stuffed some of the wisdom we had acquired in our past lives into our pocket before making the journey. If only we could have scribbled some notes and mailed them to ourselves at our new address. If only we could have asked to see the rules sheet before agreeing to come. If only we could have extracted promises of love, acceptance, and health before agreeing to leave the house. If only... if only...
But, we're here. The walk has begun. For now, just breath. In, out, in, out,... Awareness. Light. Dark. Shadows. Movement. Noise. Not yet sound, just noise. Smells. Ah, that's what my mother smells like. Warmth. Comforting contact. Aware. Breath.
This will all change soon. Before long, someone will appear. Before i can blink an eye, I will raise his nasty head, and who will help me fight him off? But for now, just breath. Acceptance. Aware. Alive, but not born.
Desire itself is movement
Not in itself desirable;
Love is itself unmoving,
Only the cause and end of movement,
Timeless, and undesiring
Except in the aspect of time
Caught in the form of limitation
Between un-being and being.
Sudden in a shaft of sunlight
Even while the dust moves
There rises the hidden laughter
Of children in the foliage
Quick now, here, now, always-
Ridiculous the waste sad time
Stretching before and after.
T.S. Eliot
Four Quartets: Burnt Norton V
But as he has pointed out earlier,
[T]he end precedes the beginning,
And the end and the beginning were always there
Before the beginning and after the end.
And all is always now.
T.S. Eliot
Four Quartets: Burnt Norton V
Soon you will have to learn of this sad thing called time, stretching before and after. For now simply Be. Here. Now.
No comments:
Post a Comment