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‘What is this longing?’ i ask as i dig in the cracked asphalt searching for the you beneath the dark edges of being that wrap you in warped closure, i seek the life hiding below. This longing is burrowing  deeper as i dig and you whisper sweetly ‘life’. your voice slides smoothly like water running over stones, the turning of a creek within the ever evolving sands of time, holding hands along a rivers edge.

‘That longing you feel is life, achey every moment to continue to fall in love wih itself. The same way a mother, once creation, now maddens with adornment for the life of her child. Creation enamored with itself. The way roots entangle below soil, the whole world enraptured in the endless embrace of love. Life pushed forth in the torrents of loving itself, to birth and through death in the endless prusuit of creation, the mourning of a taste of the unfolding forever of this love story. You dig, below concrete and ashphalt to reach me for this longing- this love of yourself; the longing of life’s will to forever remember its love for itself.’

What wonder to be an unending lovestory, embodied.

—————————

We live in harrowing times; times filled with full system disruption. Our social system, ruled by patriarchal pressures and hierarchical norms, teeters ever precariously on the edge of clash. Our economic system, ruled by extractive industry and ever increasing profits by any means necessary, keeps us all in a perpetual state of scarcity and fear; numbed only by endless cycles of consumption. Our ecosystems, threatened or destroyed by our consumptive, exploitive, self-destructive addictions and obsessive lifestyles, is collapsing in real time- visibly wounded to anyone willing to pay attention. These are hard times here on earth. And the pain is spread throughout the entire web of the world, showing up in intricately interconnected and mysteriously complex ways. To live of the earth in this time is to embark, at least for most, on a voyage that returns us to our original relationship to place and Spirit- a journey that is far beyond any intellectual exercises; a journey that must be felt. Embodied return to place helps to activate cellular memory, allowing us to move out of our current paradigm and softly land in place in a way that is new yet familiar; strange yet home.

To do this, we cannot leave our bodies inside at the door. We must surrender into our own skin to fully engage the return home. At the same time, we must acknowledge that our bodies are not the bodies of our ancestors. Toxins in food, water, and air have changed our health and abilities. Traumas from gendered/racialized/economic/ability/age based differences have resulted in bodies being predisposed to further wounding. Substance abuse, mental illness and desperation point us to what hurts in our communities, and also guide us toward the healing process that can lift us collectively out of the apathetic haze we’re in. It is a crisis of spirituality. By this I am speaking to our ability to viscerally feel the sacredness of relationship, place, self, life. We have lost touch, literally, with the pulse of the world as lives around and through us. To truly return home is to become aware of the rhythm of life, to put our fingers back to the pulse and allow ourselves to dance with the beat of the world.

As I reflect on this, I allow myself to become aware of my own heart- the bodies rhythm that ticks on in the background of my racing mind. This is the same heartbeat that pulses through all life on earth, held to the same rhythm of the seasons, the winds and the waves. To allow ourselves to center into our heartbeat, we welcome ourselves into a felt experience of the pulse of life, quiet our minds to arrive into the present moment, and open ourselves to the visceral knowing of the sacred. Our heart tells us how things are truly going, and offers us a guide post toward healing. When we focus on our heart in reflection of the world we live in, we can follow our hearts cues toward meaningful actions. Does your heart race when you read news headlines? Does it ache when you see a clear cut forest or a beach littered with plastic? Does it tighten down when a racist comment slips from someone’s mouth? Does the sensation invite you to lean in? Or does it overwhelm you, leading you to find ways to numb out the sensation- to turn away from the pulse of the world, to drown out the rhythm of life?

Since my last post, everything has changed. I’ve made the journey from one being to two as I carried, bearthed and now nurture my first child. Becoming a mama has taught me not only the power and magic of living flesh, but has and continues to remind me of the sanctity of this earthly rhythm. The steady beat of the human heart is the first music of the womb-same as the forest and the cosmos; the sacred song of life force in harmony with the breath. Taken together, we can sense into all the meaning there is to make. Creation profoundly reminding us of creation through the simple and profound dance of inhale-exhale and the steady beat of the heart. It’s all the more personal that we each take to the critical task of love. Not the watered down notion of candy hearts, but the true marveling awe of splendor that comes from witnessing the profundity of creation. To let our breath inspire tears; the beating of another’s heart to generate ecstatic madness. It’s not enough to remain on the surface of our shallow world. We must dig, and as we do, listen to the earth sing songs of freedom until we are moved to tears.

It starts at home. In our own lungs and chests. Listen. Quietly. Take as long as you need to hear it. Then listen. To your breath. Your heart. Then listen more until you know it. Then let it move you. See what happens.

 

Happy 2020 y’all.

 

tse.

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