Who I really am is: older than time, the end that is the beginning of another end. The wounded who heals and the healer who wounds. Who I really am is another life, another turn on the infinite wheel. This turn is a pleasant one, full of light and joy, and life and blessings. But not all of who I really am. We know this, in our bloodwater that has been glaciers and oceans and rain and tears. In our bones that are the rock of the earth, mountains of molten and time.
The baby cries and I drag myself from the bath, hot water soothing a leg injured in youth, reminding me I am no longer there. I comfort him with only my voice and then the touch of skin, his warm soft head on my chest and neck. Oh, the pleasures and pain of a body! Such a quaint little thing, a happy home for this infinite spirit.
Who I really am is a fragment of the unnamable, a facet and whole of the great mystery. Who I really am is the resonant song at the center. What are we all, really, but the wind of the breath of the one spirit that breaths inside and through us?
1 comment:
Thank you for sharing your words...nourishment ♥️ @spiricle
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