Longing

This piece makes the heart pine - for longing is to the soul what the air feels like for a seagull - it must have the object of its desire - must be caught in the slip stream of everything that its life is made of. I am made up of you - and you me - we are the same electrons, pieces and parts and yet we are separate and one at the same time. Mystery of mysteries - the garden of Gethsemane where Jesus wept blood for the weight he carried for the world - to come to our utter aloneness is part of longing - to find ourselves at our very dark centre - as all and nothing. To abide closer and closer to the essential freedom offered to us all - to be essentially ourselves - and one with the great dark mass that crawls towards us from ourselves. We are not getting any better at finding an ascension - a victorious crusade on behalf of men and their machines of war. We are having to fall back into the water from whence we came - the inky sea - saline - the womb waters where everything for now is dark before the rebirth. I took myself for a long walk last new year and found I was alone at the top of a sand dune over looking the ocean - completely alone - completely known by the surroundings of sea, trees, stars, moon, insects and the odd scurrying rat. I was not apart from all these things as I lay there all night taking the dark into my body. Longing in some small way for the dawn - but mostly completely at home in my sandbox bed - the mosquito’s having made a meal of my legs. We are much more than we spend most of our lives habitually thinking, living. We are pieces of everything and the great longing is that we return to the state of togetherness with all that is - this is the wisdom of earth - of the land - of the celestial bodies - of the rivers and mountains - these our brothers and sisters - our home is calling for our total surrender and return - she is, arms outstretched - waiting to embrace - all forgiven - the deeds of our destruction - longing only to pull us into the truth of our relatedness - the home coming we are all crying for, dying for - stepping out of our cicada shells into the dazzling sky.