Almost Summer Prayers

 

Sometimes we wake up, slowly, in the morning, deep breath in, stretch, and it slams…down…on the chest. Or maybe it creeps in. Slowly, pulsing, crushing…sadness, depression…

And we start grasping, don’t we? For the meaning. WHY am I feeling this way? What’s the reason? We create stories, they take on new life, and we groan. Maybe we trudge in anyway, to work and life and jobs and family. Maybe we sit and cry. Or just stay. There in bed. Tune out? Tune in. What’s the diagnosis, Doctor? Am I just under the weather? Mood disordered? I should be able to cope…I should be able to perform…be productive…so much of my waking life…

There are those of us who feel so much, from so many places. I wonder many times if we’re actually all that different from those who seem ‘fine’, or if we just have less mechanisms for stuffing it down, ignoring, downplaying.

But we feel it all… mother’s lost life torrenting in through our hands which rubbed lotion into mother’s feet and legs because her body no longer let her reach down that far…knowing all she wants is touch, but that we cannot bear to feel her grief again…to hear it all swimming through our blood and tissues, begging for release…and so keep the strokes light but thorough, keep the layer of lotion thin but just enough…the guilt of non-compliance with her deeper needs no match for the days of recovery needed if we take it all on once again…

… loss in community of someone we didn’t even know but heard about once…when consoling a hopeless friend…memories of death and loss…plunging into what they all must be feeling…

…the tension of dissenting sides, politics run amok, another shooting, more power plays behind closed doors, the increasing awareness that those in “power” would sacrifice our lives for the sake of their bank accounts and “legacies” and dreams so inconsequential that they hide behind morality and isms because their shallow hearts were sold to some false god centuries ago (wake up…wake UP)…

…awareness of what’s to come, what could come, how our bodies are seen as chattel or objects or less thans or morally reprehensible…

…echos of the despair that comes when hearing one more person say it doesn’t matter, that they won’t pay attention, that their ignorance is justified…and that they’ve never even considered that the word “privileged” might be the more appropriate label for themselves…

…and memory comes surging in, all linked in one big web, a child crying out from within, needing space, needing face time, needing…to let…one more torrent of sobs out…

Sometimes we learn to just witness it all, to try to give the sobs space to arise when they need to, without attaching stories. It’s a practice I’ve made progress with over the years. Telling the child, “yes, I hear you. Your tears are safe here. And sacred. And I love you.” Placing my forehead to the ground in silent prayer “Please bring us peace. Please may we get through this. Please give us the grace of seeding light while recognizing the shadow. May we be happy. May we be free.” Laying in the bathtub in water as hot as I can manage, blessing earth and sky, within and without, “Hold us through this, please. Let us wake up a little bit faster Let us see. Let us act. Let us change. More quickly, please.” Looking around at others who don’t seem so affected, and wondering if it’s better that way while knowing I’ve always been horrible at hypotheticals and what-ifs.

Remembering her words, summer evening, burning fire: “You’re life is really great.”

Yes, yes it is. Breathing deep. So much good fortune. Happiness. A new golden age, somehow, amidst the strangling vines of modern times. Remembering to cherish it, to expand wings for now and soar through it, heart whole, knowing incapacitation has become a part of the rule of existence for now, in ebbs and flows, and that there must be a reason for these cycles of pain, these aeons of shattered souls and broken bodies…being mindful of the webs we weave… staring out at wind chasing leaves on strong summer trees…

 

*want to support my work? www.patreon.com/aquarianspirals*

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s