I Promise, We Are Ready

Photo / Guillaume Lorain

​Babies cry. Flowers stretch. Kettles sing.
The shadows on the wall at sunset grow.
Guns fire. Breath runs out. Grief rises. Fear grips.

I whisper three words as my body vibrates panic:  

Love lives here.

The earth shakes, she crumbles, she steadies.
We wake up and the news flashes.
Light and darkness - they trade places.

The clock ticks fake time and I whisper again:

Love lives here.

I follow these syllables one by one. They are my japa mala and I’m searching for the center of my heart in times of instability and crisis.
I touch my lips to each word and listen for the secret of impermanence.
In the hungry hush of groundless being, we have one anchor and it is the practice of loving. This practice involves a seemingly simple core truth, yet it has proven to be humanity’s greatest stumbling block.

Everyone deserves to be loved.

Light melts. Animals sound. Bodies rest.
Alarms wail. Trees bow. Tides rush in.   

How do we find love when there is anger, terror, devastation or grief between us and the love that weaves us?
We hold a council in our heart for the meeting of everything. We sit tenderly beside the judgement and the pain. We call out to love when we can’t feel her presence. We name what we seek to remember.
This human thing we are doing - it is a mysterious skydive. To love in the face of impermanence is astoundingly courageous and it contains the code of eternity.  
So beautiful songbirds, be patient. We are recalling something as we fall.
We are the gasp between two places and love is a tunnel.
We are time travelers, but time is false, connections are real and they are leading us beyond death and life, into a brave beginning.

Doors open. Knowledge dissolves. Memories surface.

The spacious moment curves its finger.

We are dreaming a deep dream.
We are the circle circling.
We are home and I promise, we are ready.  

Love lives here.