Kabir Kadre
Kabir Kadre
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Roots…

Kabir kadre|1 month, 22 days ago

One of the challenges for me of writing first thing in the morning can be a sense of excitement for things to do with the day. Today is one of those days, no surprise there.

I rested deeply, dreamed a landscape, and woke rested at about 5:45. I rose and meditated with a little difficulty, but not too poorly. Now, a few minutes to seven, I decided to take in the morning news, newsletters, and Twitter feed while I waited for Courtney to arrive.

The frenetic energy of yesterday has calmed into an autumn like cool and earthen rooted sense of possibility. With tendrils of listening extended, the mycelial mesh works of karmic history begin to wash in the quanta of wisdom to nourish new forms.

In the dream I saw a kind of sparse farmers market in the city, conversations of community and an air of barter all lightly held. There were old friends and I saw myself bicycling through dark streets with one of them, some errand at hand. Now we were returning to reconnect with others, something like a light snow covering the concrete, dim lights warned us of cross traffic at the coming intersection and we slowed while a police car drove past our path. A cautious respect, as if for a dangerous animal was present in my awareness as we pedaled on up the road towards our destination.

There was more, but fleeting now… A park bench like picnic table and a little band of people engaging with one another. Friends from the spiritual school with whom I participated in the late 90s and early 2000’s were saying goodbye to me from the left and I turned to connect and wish well.

My Sufi teacher appeared and I stepped forward, “you’re the best!” I smiled, realizing his oneness with all things and throwing my arms around him as we embraced in a big and jolly hug, grinning from ear to ear. He beamed, saying something warm and complementary about the consciousness gathered around the table.

In the unsettled lay the openings, those cracks were the luminous not only can enter, but is found in its indigenous home.

The theme of root and plant and interpenetrating connection flowed through yesterday as Courtney spent the morning on the porch planting and repotting, while I studied the words, roots of meaning extending into the earth, of a client STAGES protocol.

An email came through from Dave, filled with imagery of roots and soil and the no-thingness of the eternal reaching. Honoring the liminal quality of the moment, I found myself reaching into the dark spaces of creativity to pull forth a reply, not so much by words, but by painting (digitally of course. 😉

In the afternoon, Caroline continued the theme, repotting and planting some new houseplants. The evening call I had, being introduced to the EOS Healing community followed the theme of soil and plant and root, culminating in a meditation on the holy basil plant.

The theme continued to echo this morning as Courtney came in, spontaneously referencing a number of places where the construct of roots had crossed her channels in the 17 hours since our last engagement.

So today I return to the desk, to the keyboard, the microphone and the monitors, the office cool with morning air from the slightly open window through which the cold breeze outside brings melodious tones of the blue pipes hanging just beyond.

I feel the depths of earthen responsibility, the importance of our connection to the soil (thanks Caroline ;-), and the nutrients longing to well up towards the light, embodying evermore complex and nuanced expressions of the life and light of consciousness emerging from the luminous depths and dark.

Email waits, pending news and communication of movements to be. Tools to be built, clarity to be wrought, and work to do.

The hawk sits, almost stillness in the rushing air. The sky is a blend of large white clouds interspersed with the blue beyond. It’s cool, and the sun does not shine through except in the distance.

Now breakfast, now work.

 


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