What if going nowhere was the requirement of transformation?
This act of going nowhere
This challenging act
to not want to run,
escape
or flee from our darkest moments
and instead, shrouded in thse shadows,
to measure ourselves
but to simply meet ourselves in that deep bay of solitude we often avoid.
To be both the dark, boat, and lighthouse on our return back to home?
To bask in the dark tar that sticks ourselves in our most hardened, discarded, and forsaken parts of ourselves
only to realize that black tar
to be that cradling net of the living dark,
holding the stars in their separate togetherness.
What if remaining in all that confuses, betrays, annoys us
—this intense discomfort, pain, and, sorrow,
and to lie resting
right within in the wound
lie our antidote?
For is it not in full contact with a wound,
it's torn edges and all
where our wholeness begins to extend
where healing takes place?
Is it not through
holding,
touching,
bearing witness,
and extending ourselves
into that streaming, blood-stricken, beaten body impassioned with rage,
a rage
of our impassioned love for justice
and feeling our feelings in full witness
to this hurt
that allows us to sink deeper into others?
To then float into that deep, primordial force
and to tap us all into renewal
into that stream of steady, pulsing vitality
that is found enmeshed and mothering
all of life?
To skip these hardened stones,
rough and jaded and exhausted
into the depths of water
to soften their shapes.
To create circles in edges
and act as the foundation of streams.
Our stony pain always has a story to tell, as water falls and rivers through.
What if remaining in these burning places,
allows us to kindle our own flame
of love
of rebirth
and regneration and veneration?
That only in between the thorns,
we find roses?
Is it not through meeting numbness, despair, and suffering
to toil within its waves
until its rocking extinguishes
that we find our reunion with life
most awakening?
Most enlivening, reviving, resurrecting?
For to lie in the deepest of darkenings,
renews an ardent, intense illumination of fiery cosmic light.
What if resting in this dark
we lie in the ancient nest of creation?
Lying in tandem
with the stars that enwomb the direction of life.
What if residing in where we find the most pain
could bring us songs of joy extending
from seed
to a lush thicket
of a generational wealth?
What if sanctuary was not a place,
but a practice?
This everlasting practice to nurture
a palace
out of any place.
What if we saw this jungled pain
as a canopied, loving reminder
to how entangled we are?
What if experiencing exactly who you are now,
resting in this nowhere,
releases us everywhere?
To fully face our pain and become star-strewn?