Image credit: Wade Britzius
Life, a mosaic of colors, of harshness and beauty, asks outside this contrived, planned life, asks outside of comfort zones, or value systems. Life moves. No rules to follow, no dogma, no agenda, no guiding hand. Stunning the beauty, breathtaking, heart-taking, soul food…and stripping. Asking us to let go of all the props. I remember my palm against the stone of a canyon, feeling the ancient ones, the long enduring ones with songs deeper than time and stories before words of life and death, that inseparable cloth. I think now of a poem, a reminder of our time, in which Marie Howe reminds us, “this is what the living do.” The daily living of dirty dishes and sandwiches amidst seeds breaking through hulls, kernels germinating, letting go, dying; life rising and falling. The living sweet touch of tender love and the fierce request to step where you do not want to go, where pain will be, where kindness may be asked to bleed, where you do not quite understand. Life so often asks for trust. It asks as Rumi states that you “let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love. it will not lead you astray.” Sometimes/often, it seems, to choose life, something else must die, must weep, must break open, must hemorrhage. How tender our hearts. Do thank goodness for that. Thank goodness for that. May we so gently touch one another in the raw, tenderness of living, choosing to live, to love deeply, to weep, to delight, to bow often, and to be with the silence of the other than human worlds.