SOC Writing_ 12 November 2020

Shivering

Cold, in the write of my hand here is yet life – a life that is arising and falling way constantly. I am buoyed up by the understanding that all is arising, changing and passing away. I am passing way. But not today. Today I am permanent - in the ground – a tree of life ready to bring its fruit – multiply. The sky ask me why and I wonder back at it. The tree I hug has given me it’s scent – for me bent over and the leaves of the oak, once verdant and lime green – soft, have now crinkled, darkened, and are coping with spring mould. What is this imperfect earth where everything is impermanent? What are we to live like when we realize it is all temporary? It’s not at all a call to depression. That would have been the Christian teaching in my youth – God. never. changes – so this change is anathema. But it’s nonsensical – God doesn’t change? Yes he does, just as he sometimes changed his mind and didn’t destroy Nineveh because, because. I love to change my mind. Mind you, that feels like a failure - to change and change again – this was not a permission slip I’d ever written. I love change – and noticing it in its minuscule ways is a joy. The smallness of breath – the new sound from exactly the new spot – the light shadow moving across my hand – the shaking of my body from the cold sea – and the settling – I am whole, enough, becoming more me – as I iterate on the pieces of my life assembling through me. You, will take a course less travelled. You, will not try me, tie me – but freed go about the way you must, following your own instincts – being kind to that one wild animal body that loves you, love you. And, and, by and by – there will come a time when we may meet again – body to body – swaying with the firmament of the stars in the one body of this open floor.