Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre

Darkness on the fifth day…

|5 months, 27 days ago

Evening has fallen on the fifth day of the new year.

I write from a sense of duty, from the dimly lit office, busyness of the day receiding and the memory of recent promise to self and others to put words to page with little more consistency this year.

In meditation, one might rest in witness to perceptions arising and passing away; fleeting perspective here, persistent thought there, feelings, sensations, silence…

One might observe the quality of movement though empty of any material substance which might move; only luminous mind rippling like rainbows through an empty sky.

The day has been a bit this way – mostly focused on collecting and organizing financial records from the year just past; polishing the spreadsheets and readying to be more mindful, careful, and insightful still in the next.

Flecked throughout, there were jewels; sitting and listening to teachings for a time while welcoming the fall of dusk, text messages and a brief telephone conversation with a, well referred indeed, possible new partner in the mandala of care, a few moments of helping friends, and a delicious ceremonial call from an old heart to the far north.

The phone call came while rising – just to catch up a bit – but the news it contained rustled up against those tender strings of care for the world.

I had no idea there have been such devastating floods in British Columbia, nor the winter storms that followed. The narration of lost livestock, broken transportation corridors, and shortages of fuel and other goods, painted a picture of just how delicate we are in the face of the world.

Erika shared a story of preparedness, many gallons of diesel fuel, propane, solar panels and backup generators, and plans for a brick oven, all complementing the practice of food sufficiency with local garden and trade.

“It feels good to have thought these things through before we need them.” She said.

I couldn’t help but remember a conversation I heard the other day that suggested Syria may have been the first of many to come “climate conflicts” caused by growing natural instability. The world, our world, is upon us my friends.

Stories of heartbreak and tenderness also wove through like veins of fat in fine beef. Two friends I encountered today are still soft from recent breakups, a third navigating gingerly through vulnerable process of relating. Another friend just lost her children to a divorce, her job to exhaustion, and her way from isolation.

All of this arising and passing away, transitory in the vastness of time and emptiness of space, and yet present like a mountain in our awareness. Our hearts themselves, the fullness of feeling and yet boundless in their ability to open, to break, to open, to hold it all, to hold each other.

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God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…