Opening my eyes felt a bit slow this morning after some portion of the night spent in a liminal wakefulness, as though I had to check to believe that I was both waking, and the timing was right. It was and I sat up, moving directly into meditation.
Today we are honoring and recognizing the third anniversary of the passing of a friend I’ve never met. Coralie was hiking in the Utah mountains with friends, both place and activities dear to her when she tripped on the trail, stumbled, and tumbled over the edge. A moment later a great hawk rose up from the ravine, calling loudly into the heavens.
Coralie is the sister of Courtney, our new friend, care partner, and collaborator here in the MettaCare community process. Courtney came to us through sacred channels and bearing sacred icons not long ago and it is just on the threshold of this profound anniversary that these friendships and connections and possibilities are taking root.
Courtney has a bright spirit and arrived this morning with a smile reflective of the wellness of her content. I admire her capacity to hold both the joy of freedom and sacred beauty with a sense of humble pain and trauma, each of which is familiar to us all. She loves her sisters, and it is through those eyes that I have had the privilege to come to know Coralie and to think of and to honor both her presence and her passing today.
While I can still pierce the energy of the morning to listen to the silence and stillness that has dominated my descriptions of this time lately, today has a different quality of fullness and vibrance to its air.
I feel like I am still catching my stride, writing in this new habit of morning. I’m grateful for the privilege to be able to compose, both for the tools, the time, and the mind to do so.
I’m humbled by the opportunities to witness others and to be in relation, and for the possibility of self reflection that those moments allow. I find it easy to project outward into the acuteness of the world and feel at the effect of time and events. When I look inward however, I find it increasingly easy to see that very spark of love that is the life of the world itself.
Death is a very personal and transpersonal moment of transformation no doubt, and so is each instant of life. I feel the hawk’s cry within me ripening and rising upward through my central chakra channels.
Working my way through the recent writings of the seeker Ray Dalio, I find a description of our world ripe and rife with death and transformation. It grows clearer to me every day how the world we have known in this lifetime, with its consistencies and reliable patterns, lies on the crumbling edge of its decay and rebirth as the world of tomorrow.
When I look inside at that pearl seed of self, that hawk’s cry rising, it is the mature self that I see, one not waiting for the world, but rising as it, to meet itself in the fullness of the loving moment that gives birth to all life and the ever present, timeless majesty.
The last week for me has been filled with physical discomfort and distress, distracting me from efforts that might have felt necessary or important to do work that is both meaningful and practically necessary to sustain a sense of ground, security of community, and offering.
In this way I imagine myself a microcosm of the larger transformation afoot. Social and political tensions, energy security, climate change and the displacement of millions of refugees, pandemic and the fear of neighbor and love one, economic disparity, job loss, economic hardships, and food insecurity just begin the list of our current collective traumas. Within this, we are ripe to discover our own full capacity to parent ourselves into empowerment, creativity, generosity, and care for OUR world.
The hawks swoop outside through the trees on the distant hillside, the morning sunlight casting shadows in the grass, while lazy clouds drift spots of shade across the landscape.
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God gets to know things, we just get to ask questions…