my sensitivity is heightened. the september sun is the sweat lodge with no escape. my body currently will not take any nourishment from the animal kingdom and i feel i am at the whim of transition. the calling to rise-up, in spirit and consciousness, has harnessed me, a simultaneous experience of grace and tough-love. there is no negotiating with the directive.
my dreams have more to do now with a state of being than with a list of accomplishments, and the craving i am having is for a monastic-like life. wooden bowls and vespers. for a shared commitment to awe and wonder, to forgiveness and compassion. to releasing samskara, and knowing oneness beneath my skin.
the other women on the trail, we recognize each other. solo trackers, who need this daily dose of solitude, dust, and vistas. i feel exhaustion and thirst and stinging sweat pours down my face. i see this, really see this, through to what was before unseen, and know my place.
my calling is to transform, transfix, and translate.
i remember the time i hiked through chaco canyon and made mud spirals on my belly, and when i took a bath in an icy glacial stream in alaska–those were the moments that foreshadowed this one. it is all quite simple and elemental.
bodies, of water, flesh and starstuff.
and, ultimately, it comes down to me and you,
in the vast embrace.
Now is the time to sit still
For nothing but a great clamor of joy
Can make any sense