adventures of a fearless (mostly) globe trotting seeker...
wondering, wandering, barefoot, nomadess

Saturday, May 8, 2010

embracing the energy of destruction and chaos, shit= fertilizer

this week there were four days of the most tremendous wind
it is springtime and besides just the pretty flowers
it brings destruction in it's awakening
the wind is like a reminder from the heavens and it sits upon me heavily
i try to lay low and hide in my house
i have things i don't want to lose
like my pride

i worry for my son
blood is real
he decided to drop out of high school
well, i did that too
and this week i took him to the exact same building
where me and his father applied for the GED 18 years ago, before i got pregnant
ain't that a kick in the pants
gypsy blood, deeply rebellious
the cycles and patterns repeating

the nature of the wind storm is chaos
it stirs things, uproots things
chaos brings the energy of change
which we so often fear
but also brings new perspective and possibilities

it is not easy to bow to the fire as it burns your house down
and thank the tongues of flame as they devour the lush greeness of the forest
leaving behind only charred stumps of trees,
decapitated blackened trunks and limbs
the ground scattered with brittle burnt offerings that cut the bare feet
where there used to be a lush damp carpet to walk and lay on

and yet this cycle brings new growth
and unexpected shoots of color
this destruction disturbs the patterns like a pebble disturbs the face of placid water
creating new ripples
new prisms of reflections

magic is born of disrupting the surface patterns
stirring the chaos cauldron
to see what emerges in the shuffle
in the spaces vibrating between what we have chosen to collectively see
and accept as the only reality

in india
kali is the mother of destruction
i have not chosen to love her
it is my nature to do so
a special color am i on the universal tapestry
a special note am i in the song of oneness
sometimes dark and sometimes light

in the crippled streets of varanasi, a city so old that it has three names
and they don't bother tearing anything down,
just build new things on top of the decaying masses of buildings
slowly sinking back into the sacred river that eats time
new growth sitting atop decay
unless you were a fish looking up from the water
where your perspective would be
upside down

they carry the corpses wrapped in bright silks tied to bamboo poles, they carry them on their shoulders as they run through the streets
only the untouchables can touch the dead bodies
family members follow behind
the carriers of death walk quickly, adamantly
they know the living will clear the way
the living will shrink themselves into doorways,
make themselves small
to avoid touching death

"ram nam satyahey" they shout
it means only the name of god, ram, remains
you were living all you truly owned was your body, when you die you don't own even that. all that is left is the name of god, all that is left is the desire to create.
through death we desire to create again
one gaping mouth is eternally birthing and devouring us all

through death i am reborn

through despair i know hope
through self doubt i find self worth
through wounding i taste forgiveness

and then the cycle reverses and the snake moves counterclockwise to eat its own tail

through hope i know despair
through self worth i taste self doubt
through forgiveness i taste wounding

forgive me father, forgive me mother
for i have sinned
for i, like all others, have fallen short of the glory
and am stumbling backwards toward it
begin again

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