I just spent a month in Los Angeles. In Communion. With the molecules and particles in the air. With the ocean. With the trees. With the people. Everything was sentient and alive, glistening.
As my eyes opened to greet the day, the sunshine felt like it was caressing me into the joy of life and living. As I walked outside, everything around me whispered: joy, joy, joy, LIFE.
I know this experience was a co-creation. I claim that without hesitation.
I have journeyed within year after year with an intensity that has made that my all-encompassing reality. I have sourced and cried and let go and opened and allowed and surrendered and become and become and become. Me. I have found my way to the eye of the storm, again and again and again, till the pathways seem intimately familiar, a part of my breath and blood, skin and bone. The sound of the drum beckoning within is a constant. The dancer moving through me.
Fluid spirals of becoming.
And as I open, I receive. Life.
And in that receiving there is an intensity and a communion that is a neverending gifting. Each moment an invitation to infinite sources and states of Being.
My back touches a tree. We are together. For hours. It speaks to me of Life and love and the possibilities of the future.
I come home and sleep for 15 hours.
Days later the communion still continues. One tree.
And the ocean. The slightest touch of the ocean is a song that seems to have no end. The immensity of it something that I struggle with, until I don’t. It fills me. Pours through me. The water an incessant pull to a cellular remembering. A wisdom that leaves hieroglypic patternings etched on my skin. I brush the sand away. But my body remembers. I sleep.
An evening with a chi gung master. I open to her body of work. Layers upon layers of body wisdom cocoon me until I go into ‘no-mind’. Breathing. I can do this. I open. I see the wisdom of generations before me as one elder after another approaches, each giving me just one drop of the nectar of a lotus flower.
I have been initiated. I sleep. Deeply.
Mount Meher is calling. We are very intentional as we sit in those chairs. What may we receive? And be? I leave, stunned. Overcome with the immensity of love that I experienced. Did I even understand love before this moment? I bow deep in gratitude and am held as they say ‘good-bye’ and ‘till next time’. They serve.
As do I, each in her/his capacity. Of course I sleep, smiles.
It is my month of Communion.
When I return home, I notice the Space inside of me. Space that fills up with Joy so easily, so instantly. A 5 year old jumping up and down with delight.
I am Still. How does this feel? Who am I now? Fluid. Ever morphing,
communion with ecstasy.
Mount Mehar, Ojai