monsoons

wind and rain rip across the plain coming over the mountain.  the storm, approaching all day, soaks the skin with memories of plenty, ever elusive in our arid home. 

i watch from here in the shelter, fearing cold.  but it is also the ravaging of healing that i fear, knowing that i must be naked and freeze to rest in comfort in the storm.  i know that i can get there, but the getting there is hard, and i am so tired these days...

he who used to be a mentor to me would say, "everything that is worth having must be suffered for".  i used to think that that was extreme and overzealous.  but i know, now, what was meant by that.  one cannot rest fully into divine communion without accessing it through pain and fear, because those are the places where it can truly be rendered from the soul.  bliss is good, but bliss is easy.  it's great to rest in god when you've got everything that you want.  can you be there when you don't?  can you be there when it's loud and dark and cold and scary?  if you can be in it there, then that's where you live. 

it is by walking on glass that one learns not to hurt from pain.  that's liberation.

 

my feet are bare.

may it serve...