Has it been months? Weeks, I know. Such full ones.
We have come far. And gone farther. And we are here.
I am here in a way I haven't been before.
I have moved (back?) into my body.
I still don't know quite what that all means.
Awareness, listening, acceptance.
Of biology -- that I have to pack food or eat out because my perceptions change drastically when I'm hungry; the way my jaw shakes when truth bubbles up; the tingling fullness in my feet that gives me something to return to: a connection to the ground, the ground of being, what some call the godhead? but oh so present in the planet beneath my feet. It is, among other things, a stirring of life.
And of biography -- the story I was born into, the stories I inherited, the stories I pass on. There has been a call this month to pay attention to discerning illusion from actuality. When so much of myself has been hidden from myself, that is a tall order, and well worth every bit of effort it takes.
Somehow I've gone from feeling like a ball of energy bound in bone and tissue and wanting so to be free of it, to spreading out into this bone and tissue, learning to feel, cultivating the strength it takes to be clear and honest. (Again, so worth it.)
Because to be here in this body is to be here in this life, in beautiful places with beautiful beings. What a gift upon awakening!
At the heart of it all, it seems to me, is a great benevolence, a kind presence, a loving source. May it fuel us all.