Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre
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One door closes…

Kabir Kadre|15 days ago

So dark outside, and cool, night. This day is long, awakened from a dream at 2 AM, still no rest again.

In the dream, a map of the state of Montana, three-dimensional and topographical, except not of the surface, but underneath, showed the underground flows of water through the territory.

An underground sea really, flowing south, mostly through the region of the western part of the state.

I was uneasy waking from a dream. I neglected my rituals the night before. Perhaps these are related.

Nurse Denise came by to change the catheter this morning, Vanessa skillfully learned support roles and procedures. The change was on the better side today, only minor discomfort.

Rising, no word from LB, David’s father instead calling, undoubtedly in attempts to triangulate on David. Work flows like water, in and out, as Dana says, does it need doing, is it mine to do, is now the time…?

David and I caught up for a while after I reached the desk before breakfast. Breakfast would be a Vanessa specialty, omelette with spice, sprouts, and avocados.

Then down the chute, into the meditation with Terri and 81 other aspirants to more deeply understand some of the evolutionary edges at play in the nature of our species.

The words were familiar, the territories, sometimes less so. Tired and with a moody brain, I kept up, noticing my attention, runny and drippy, but managing to stay close to the flow.

I had asked reflections and received reply from a few friends on a recent effort to weave some meaning and intent into the most basic of practices, livelihood and offering. I catalogued the responses as a to do list and went to work.

Becoming familiar with the structural efforts of a podcast, organizing and redirecting web domains, researching platforms for the next page of the web, pushing more deeply into bringing forth that practice of livelihood and offering.

Patience, always an ally, plied her skills in business marketing to begin dressing up my professional profile, an effort that is going beautifully I should absolutely say. While that alone may be rightly recognized as a practical and profound gesture, she went further still, taking care to craft and list the offering to move on the energy of the great chariot I have enjoyed these last three years.

In the afternoon I caught Charles on a walk up a mountain and towards the sea, we spoke for about 45 minutes, often to the sound of trudging feet and that crisp static quality of cell phone in the afternoon breeze.

As we finished, Cassandra arrived, dancing through her devoted practice to the world. Devin would come soon and we would read together as has become a minor custom. Early evening was upon us, dinner still a ways off.

We read, there were cheers, there was laughter, there were tears. This is a good book, it pierces the time. Each of us in turn found passages, often overlapping, to describe clear insistence to lean further into the unique integrites of each of our lives.

Nearly 8 PM. Patience had to run to the airport to collect a friend and still to drive out to the desert tonight. Devin and Cassandra and I had a quick bite of Cassie’s latest exquisite creation from the kitchen. The lady of the house readied herself and the dog, food was consumed at the perfect pace, then motion, then stillness.

These reminders still to write, a prophylactic antibiotic to accompany the catheter change, forgotten this morning, the kitchen to rest.

It’s dark outside. Thursday night in the time of pandemic. The river of traffic flows along the hillside to the South, visible through the trees, the illuminated valley beyond. It is dark though, as if more so than usual. Maybe I’m just tired.


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