Growing lost to the mess that unruly humans make and spread. The garbage heap that demands the attention of our better selves. Transmuting our natural capacity for wonder and awe into the wonder and awe of abject heartbreak over and over again around the utter brokenness of BEings upon this earth walk. All that takes us out of the current of flow and onto the park bench where we watch and observe the wash of ruination. Hearing the cacophonous roar of not only the tyrants, but their mesmerized followers willing to bleed for their beast. In return, the most needed rallying cries of resistance in the face of fascism, unbridled corruption, violence, warmongering, cruelty, treachery. Joining those cries of the resistance, yes, YES, yet still not fully knowing or trusting how to move and sound out from those deepest wells within. The pockets where Soul resides and asks over and over, how and why did our species grow so lost?
Then remembering. We ever have been. Lost. There’s ever been those among us bound by the delusion and choosing to stay and operate from there. Double and triple down, even. Big truth in that recall. So then, what to offer from the boundless well where others of us reside and pour from? That place that differs so vastly from the global train wreck currently on view on massive screens commanding our gaze and rapt focus. Coming soon to your neighborhood if not showing its awful self there already.
One beautifully simple and clear path from the park bench, from that seat of witness to the atrocity, in movement towards the vibrant state of HOME…an age old antidote. The Gratitude List. The pause taken and filled with reflection upon that which we are most grateful for. The quiet moments, those kind glances, the knowing hearts, the sublime sense of you seeing me seeing you. Those instances when we shift and the ruin drops away, and there, there in its place, the expansiveness a deep breath brings.
For some months I have strayed from this gentle glide upon The Golden Boat. Dry docked and observing, listening, inquiring from that bench. In the span of time as witness, I’ve noticed all of you who sail still. Sail in spite of the storm winds. Sail into the very eye of the storm. Pouring out what you gather while there. Reporting from the abyss and upon the abyss. Daily. Often more than daily. Consistently. Confidently. With truth of intention and clarity of heart and conviction. You help us to see. We are so not alone. In fact, far more of us in number than the delusion-makers want us to believe. You mighty storm trackers, I am grateful for you.
I notice those of you who sail still towards calmer isles left behind after a storm lands its destructive blows. Gathering the bones washed ashore. Rebuilding and envisioning anew from the rubble and debris scattered about. Mining treasure from the wreckage. Showing us yet a new way to dance and sing, while reinforcing the necessity to do so fully and with abandon. A response to the relentless force of the deluded ones who know only how to rob, cheat, steal the very rights granted to ALL BEINGS upon this earth. You glorious art makers, mentors, JOY bringers…I am grateful for you.
And those guided on by the forever curious heart. Navigating at night by stars, and through day by sights trained upon the unnameable place where the water meets the sky meets the water meets the sky. That seamless horizon where all merges into one vast whole. You sail there fearlessly sending signals out for us to celebrate the Source and join you there. Come on in for the swim, the water is fine and the air streams rare. You inspired adventurers led by pure faith and trust after releasing to the unknown. Dear seekers, I see you. I feel you. Rising apparition upon the backdrop of the infinite, yet so not a ghost. There you soar and I am grateful for you.
Each and every one of you play a role in my re-awakening. My remembering that I am among you still. Pieces and parts of all three realms of connected Souls align with my design and serve as mirror image beckoning me forth.
I AM GRATEFUL to notice you
upon waking and resting,
those hours between
and ever through dreams.
With your encouragement
to heed the call
when whispers roar
“Now is the time
to draw down the gold
and bring it forward
to all.”
Are you ready for the call?
With gratitude to Jane Barratt of The Arc of Ageing, Darius Bashar of The Artist Morning™ and all within The Artist Morning global community, Writers Club and Creative Sanctuary.
