Saving the Graced Moments
back from a beautiful (and flaring) summer
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My dear ones,
how I've missed feeling you near and around me. I've learned so much over this summer break that has been unrecorded, and there is some grief laced into the realization that if you do not take the time to pause and consider the thread of your existence and encounters, it runs by all too quickly, irreverently and insignificantly. The marrow is not tasted, and some part of me feels bone dry. There is a certain quality of poverty and nutrient depletion in my body. A feeling I know well. It is a soul in longing, a soul calling its owner home. Breaks are lovely, but often a labyrinth of distractions that I must now make my way back to my ground.
When I am following the motions and not landing heart-fully on the inside, this body aches more. So I dutifully return to this breath and this page to collect myself and her multitudes. But it hasn't been easy. My body is a vessel that does not lie, and I often feel incapable of being deeply rooted in her. Listening to her. Having a body has been traumatic for me in many ways because it demands constant consciousness and care and an alertness that challenges the part of me that wants to drift and eject herself from everything hard or too real. The soul and body ask for realization, and parts of my humanness want oblivion.