seeking

I have a indoor plant.

It has feathery leaves and looks like it would be at home on a forest floor.

It recently sent up a long stalk that falls into a gentle curve at its extremity. It has been circling, slowly, but perceptibly. I don’t actually see it moving, but when I look over at it, I can see it’s moved. The degree of its topmost arc changes too – like it’s reaching out for something…

For what? – the light? – a way to extend itself? – a connection with something other?

And it occurs that we are all slowly spiralling, tentatively seeking something beyond.

open heart

You cannot decide one day to be “open hearted”…

That’s not how it works.

You probably won’t understand this until you’ve had your heart broken many, many times. At least, that’s how it’s working with me.

Open-heartedness is not a state to be achieved. It is, rather, the natural state of who you are. As life chips away at the ego clinging to everything, bit by bit, that which blocks this essential state falls away.

Until in one grace-filled moment you stand, naked, vulnerable, absolutely open – and connected to all the other hearts that beat in the dark.

And, united in that naked vulnerability, our hearts start to beat as One.

Om.

Ajke amar jonmodin!

I have a deep desire to visit India, and especially West Bengal, where my Bharatanatyam teacher lives. Also especially Pune where a dear friend whom I met in the blogosphere lives.

My Bharatanatyam teacher’s dear mom and dad have extended an open invitation to visit them sometime in Khakdwip (near Kolkata). And since their English is limited, I have been trying to learn some Bangla. Which explains the title of this piece! Translated it means (drum roll please):

Today is my birthday!

I’m only half way through the day, but it’s been so filled with beautiful expressions of love. I’ve been quite overwhelmed.

Yesterday there were kind birthday wishes from Pune.

And there were sweet little text messages from my faraway kids, friends, and family.

And today, when I signed onto Zoom for my Bharatanatyam class, there was my teacher (Sri Supratim Talukder) and his priyo ma with a lit candle for me to “blow out” from my side of the planet! Then Supratimji played a Tagore song and interpreted it extemporaneously in dance for me. I was so deeply moved.

After my class, I wandered into the living room where my sweet husband played a favourite love song and we held each other and danced around (dodging the ladders and drop sheets – we’re painting)…

I have been moved to tears multiple times today by the sheer beauty, thoughtfulness, and generosity of these gestures.

I am surrounded by so much love.

So. Much. Love.

everything, everywhere, all at once

I haven’t yet seen this movie, but the title has certainly stuck… it’s how things happen.

In my practice space this morning something like this surfaced:

everything everywhere all at once

is crumbling

dissolving

the swirling radiant brilliance

now naked

revealing

light

sitting in light

expansive joy and fullness

that is only and ever full

everything everywhere all at once

Submerged

I

[Prompt for drama exercise: Imagine someone has grabbed the back of your head and forces it into water…]

I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe

[…then at the last moment yanks your head back up out of the water…]

– gasp –

[…and repeats.]

I can’t – gasp – I can’t – breathe – I can’t

FULL STOP

II

[My birth narrative. I can’t hear my mother’s voice. Panic. A black hole opens up behind my head. Pulled towards it. I can’t see don’t know where I am going all alone where is my mother – I want to go back go back to water to safety to known -]

FULL STOP

III

[In the operating room. A tsunami washes over my head. And another. I hear the anaesthetist’s voice in the distance, “Do you feel anything?” Oblivion. Laser blasts kidney stone blockage.

Flow restored.]

[Also, your brother left his body today.

More water flows. Tears this time.]

FULL STOP

IV

[Diving down.]

[Processing the fact that I have no control.]

[There is only and ever this flow.]

FULL STOP

momentarily lost

I see

each life

a separate thread

mine, yours

overlapping, entwining, unravelling

dangling

in the dark

until a moment of coherence:

a tapestry

swirling meaning

flowing into illumination

– separation?

an impossibility.

only love,

love –

pine speaks

thunk

pine cone dropped

heat-released

scent of pine

feet momentarily alert

to sticky pine resin

walking softly

piles of pine needles

wind-born, one settling

on the surface of my tea

pine speaks in riddles

I do stuff.

Busy myself with little projects.

Learn Bharatanatyam. Read a book.

Do Sanskrit homework. Learn Bangla. Clean house.

Write. Check Instagram.

But every so often

something rips through

this curtain of busy-ness

and for a dizzying moment

I stand naked on the precipice of an abyss

that threatens to suck me,

stripped of everything ME,

into a vortex of spiralling darkness.

I feel sick. Empty. Unable to do.

Until –

the phone rings.

A voice that I know.

I sigh, soften, and settle.

Bit by bit, the dread recedes.

A blanket around the nakedness.

Heart speaking to heart.

I smile.

(And once again,

I do stuff.)

this

This morning I had a dance lesson with a tree in my back yard.

First, it drew my attention down, down into the root of things.

Second, it allowed me to see the evanescent spiralling that manifests as solidity.

Third, we rode that energy up into branching, into twigging, into leaving.

Fourth, it revealed no separation. Earth, wind, sun, tree, me: no separation.

Fifth, it said:

Know this. Be this. Dance this.

waiting

for the storm

head-aching heaviness

presses down

humidity too thick to walk through

expectant hush

everyone in, looking out

on my lemon tree

a lemon hangs, heavy

its trajectory

from suspension in air

to a slam into solid ground

a foregone conclusion

everything falls

lemons

rain

me