Learning to Listen

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I got to bed late last night.
This morning I am up before the sun.
It is bitter and crisp and dark outside, my breath a cloud of smoke.
I feel sorry for myself, tired and irritated and chilled to the marrow of my bones.
As dawn rises, it paints the sky a thousand shades of yellow and pink. Without trying, I look up to see her staring back at me. She is shining in her majestic grace, half of her face cloaked by the growing sun’s shadow, the two so perfectly mismatched and yet unconditionally entwined. She shows her sectioned self, and in an instant I know she is preparing to rest a while. Her wisdom is in the repose that allows her to return again, as she always does, fierce, bold and clairvoyant.

Now that I’ve gotten to know her, she is impossible to forget. She keeps me a (consenting) prisoner of her subtle changes. Inevitably, I find myself riding the waves of her tide. From time to time when I forget to let her in, she knocks me to the ground, a reminder of her strength and her unrelenting vigilance and love. She doesn’t speak much, not in the way you or I do. But she is constantly teaching me, tirelessly (and oh so patiently) waiting for me to get it. Sometimes I do, and other times it takes a few repeat lessons. She faithfully becomes my tutor and through her compassionate command, she shows me again… and again… and again.

tumblr_mzj0ra4IeU1qmjc0fo1_500And so this morning, in one quick, impressive glint, she summons me to rest.
She whispers: “Rest, my sweet child. Wrap yourself in warmth. Be with stillness. Immerse yourself in the ritual of running a bath, making a cup of tea, cuddling with the dogs.” She sings in her moon-shine language: “Be with your irritable, sullen self without judgment. Hold her until she thoroughly understands what love means. Warm yourself by the fire of your own heart. Listen to it’s rhythmic cadence and let it’s tenderness bundle you with unblemished goodness.”

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Half of my face is veiled too, a childish mimicking of hers. Part of me wanting to push and fight and run and do; the other, an undeniable knowing, a fountainhead of wisdom.

This morning, I choose to listen. I choose to let myself be moved by the current. I choose to give in to her stream, the moon’s tempo, and be carried toward a mending, a healing that can only happen in the belly of the quiet, in the place where the dark turns to light.

Meet Me Where the Light Rushes In

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Hide yourself from the world.
Wade for a time in the
Murkiest corners of your soul.
Sit in the squalor of your own disgrace.
Know what it is to embody voracious
Greed, ignorance, intolerance.
See yourself reflected in
The eyes of a murderer,
In the hands of a pedophile,
In the mind of a terrorist.

Trust deeply that it is from the
Dregs of your own decay
That the blossom is born.
Accept that,
For you to be only love,
In the heart of your heart,
You must also have tasted disgust.
Acknowledge that wisdom
Can only be birthed out of sadness.
Believe that, within you,
There is a harmony
Of light and dark,
A symphony of sentiments
That allow you to feel fully,
To live with fervor,
To be.

And know.
Fully understand.
Your love is the heart of the universe.
Your fire is the soul of the world.
Your truth is a reflection of the cosmos.
Your muck and your beauty,
A mirror of us all.

Sit with me in the dark of the dark
Meet me where the light rushes in.

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