As the planet awakens, the heavens descend. As what is below rises up, what is above drops down, relaxes.
I feel as if parts of me that have floated above the Earth for lifetimes are finally feeling safe enough to slowly, tentatively, allow their feet to touch the ground, as if the winds are dying down and in that settling, the eagles descend, landing gently on branches beneath which fires have raged for centuries. Is it safe to land? Can these high vibrations sink down, relax, unwind, exhale, and rest in the gravity of Form? At the same time there are parts of me that have been compressed, trapped deep under the ground like seeds, and as they feel the warmth and breath and pressure of movement around and above them they crack and break, painfully in the earth of my body, tentatively reaching their tender sprouts out to feel what support might be around them, to peek out from the soil like tiny eyes: is the new world here yet? Is it here?…
…Could it be the Divine Lovers reaching toward each other again after their last centuries-long quarrel? Could it be that the long and necessary break they each needed, to find the gifts of their Individuation, has ended, and that the golden thread of their Love is now turning them back around to face one another, with humble uncertainty but deep desire to be seen and met again in a radically new way, with a more mature Love?
As children of these two, perhaps we took sides with Mommy or Daddy when they argued with each other (when Duality emerged out of Unity), or perhaps we went and listened to music in our bedroom to drown out the pain, or perhaps we yelled and screamed at them to stop fighting, or perhaps and most probably we re-enacted their story through our own small stories, again and again and again. There was so much pain seeing daddy yell and kick and hit mommy and mommy freeze and squirm and try to disappear. And vice a versa. And all of it which would take too long to re-tell, and doesn’t really matter because we’ve arrived at the part of the story where the Karmic Wheel has made its full turn and there is real possibility to begin again. To Forgive.
Sitting in the same room with these Two, in the membrane between these Two (which we are composed of), what old stories do we feel in us/through us/around us? Daddy’s deeply buried guilt for having wielded the sword of violence with anger and impatience? Mommy’s intense distrust and sheer terror of re-emerging in the world, of become animated again, after hiding under layers of ice? The seed afraid to burst? The bird afraid to land?
Bridge, bridge of the Middle, what wisdom do you have for us, that both seed and bird feel safe in this holy ground where we as humans walk, talk, breathe, live? Teach us the sacred breath from the sacred Heart that holds these two as Not-Two, Not-One.
May what has frozen in us feel safe to rise and emerge, and what has been buzzing and cartwheeling in us feel safe to land and rest…in the sacred space, the golden hoop, the middle ground, the Heart that calls all things, after their many journeys, Home to an ever deeper Love.
And may I personally be that bridge by coming Home to the center of myself from all directions.