Sometimes, like today, I wake up with the smile not so very far away.
I’m talking about those moments when the invisible become seen
as though suddenly,
like a flower opening when I’m not looking.
Sometimes we wake up screaming.
“It’s a light strand of energy going from here,
to here,”
She gestures to her heart,
tries to describe the treasure that can’t be measured by the gold standard,
an ethic that isn’t exclusive,
marriage as a constellation.
these promises become the ways our bodies move, they pulse with our hearts, not just for mine and what’s mine, promises that are ours.
Metanoia, a transformative change
of body, change of mind, of heart.
Repentance, an acknowledgement of responsibility, an acknowledgement of harm done, and a vow catapulting into action into living, breathing, moving form, to do different this time. Metanoia, a meditation we can direct towards the light.
Sometimes the change is disguised as
Despair
as a break
an encounter with Hell, we see it so clearly
believing the worst as we
touch down into the darkest place, the flat line, even, the end.
I want to move, the soul whispers, stuck, pasted to the wall.
And what is it that brings us back?
I have been saved many times by people whose names I do not know.
Their faces, I don’t remember.
But their promises made my heart beat again.
Stay. Stay.
There are those whose kindness got my body breathing again
when I was far from the surface.
The secret is
that we have always been directed toward the light.
We know this if we open our eyes, pause a moment to enjoy how
this moment is
painted with breathtaking exactitude,
a miraculous alchemy
of light and time and distance and vantage point.
We must save each other
every day. This is our work.
And especially today, when the smile is so close to the surface
I can taste it.
