glory to the flower and glory to the bee. glory to the honey that makes the wing and the petal dance in between. life is attraction. i leave my love again.
this morning i watched the sun rise over a sea of clouds, setting fire to the wing of the plane. the orange, yellow and scarlet-red reflected on the metal made something so machine like look organic for a moment. washed in beauty. and it makes me wonder, what have i done to deserve being a witness to such beauty? i am floating in the no man's land, the space between countries, there are no flags, no possession here.
in the space in between, i live here a lot. i am bending space and time to create what delights me in the world. through faith, love and holding it all together with bubblegum. hanging my bare ass on the line. playing poker with the cosmic goddess, taking risks, flirting with instability. india works well on these terms. if you are passionate, if you are willing to sacrifice for what you love, she will meet you with magic that defies logic. sacrifice works. don't ask me why or how, i just know it does. offering your pound of gold, your pound of blood, sweat and flesh.
i move again. pick up my colorful tents like a nomadic time-travelling gypsy, drunken with love and sniffing like a dog in heat to follow the scent of what comes next. little silver bells tinkle on my anklets as i walk. they call this sound chal. each time i step, i stamp the earth with my foot and the little bells make their adamant noise, clear the way, we are coming.
the night before i left india, i got sick. spent the night tossing and turning and moaning. left the warm body i was cuddling and crawled into the bathroom and slept on the tile floor. i don't know what it is about that, like an animal when it sick just goes to lie in a corner and heal itself with the coolness of the floor. i didn't want to leave india. i didn't want my life to be so big. suddenly it all felt frightening, so big that the seams were coming apart and maybe i would be disappearing.
too much life to hold. too many transitions. i might just expolde in the frenzy. "sorry, psalm didn't make it back to america. she spontaneously combusted and all that is left is an indigo spot on the floor, almost jewel-like in color". secretly, i think spontaneous combustion to rejoin all the dancing waves of energy in the universe would be cool. but it isn't time for that yet.
i wondered if i was manifesting this last minute tango with dysentery to avoid going home. i am sure it was all the tension, the emotions coming to the surface as i get ready to make the next big transition. the birthing canal is often uncomfortable. if having a practice has taught me anything, it is patience. this too shall pass. the waves must be surfed. the uncomfortable must be endured.
i know it is time to go. how do i know? a little bird told me so. a little yellow bird who lives in my heart. my sufi teacher taught me a song in turkish. it is about king solomon. he is a great sufi saint. they say he could speak the language of the birds because he lived in his heart. in the heart, we understand all languages. my teacher named me after solomon, suleymon. a man's name for a woman. he said it is because i live in the world like a man, with freedom.
i got off the plane in london still barefoot. the ground here is much colder in the morning. the sky is grey and the houses are in neat little rows. this is definately not india. it is more contained. but i do not feel lost. one foot in front of the other.
"to dance beneath the diamond skies
with one hand waving free
silhouetted by the sea
with all memory and fate
driven deep beneath the waves,
let me forget about today until tomorrow"