Love Incarnate

Before bed, I remembered it was the night of the full moon. I couldn’t go to sleep without greeting it, looking into it, savoring it, the last full moon of the year 2013. Outside, the trunks of the sycamore trees were glowing in the light, and the shadows they cast on themselves were of a quiet and soulful beauty. I stepped onto the deck and sat down on the patio in a spot where the moonlight was flowing down all over me. The light was so clean... I felt it was sterilizing my whole being. So glad I was to have come out to discover this scene; I felt how sore my spirit was, and that I merely had to take the few steps out the door to begin anew. I was awed, soothed, revived, healed by soft, cool, and swift moonbeams. My imagination ran out into the shadows, answering a primal fairy call in the trees near the ancient creek.

There was also a gentle wind whispering through the night, sometimes silent. The silence between the wind was so complete that I could hear a leaf fall in the distance, or a boulder roll over in the creek. For awhile, I just looked up at the moon and felt it’s power. I let my thoughts go where they wanted. I traveled the usual spectrum of fears, feelings, twinges; I realized how I had let THEM become my life. I thought of how white the light of the moon was, and that led to thoughts of the chant of protection: “I hereby surround myself with the white light of protection.” I spoke this aloud uncountable times. I looked to my right and there was a black cat, I looked to my left and there was a white cat. Soon the words “I AM surrounded by the white light of protection” emerged from my lips. I felt how my fears were surmountable by conscious self-protection; I took example from the moon. She is herself, and all energy directed at her is reflected back. She doesn’t absorb; she passes forward the light and dispels the darkness, while allowing it. She downplays the darkness, diluting it in the beauty of total night, and in the silence, the stillness, she nurtures budding mystery. I thanked her. I thanked the world for my life. I asked for help to fully live it. The wind rose from stillness into crescendo within one moment, as if in raucous hilarity at my question.

I felt called to clothe myself in light, in her light, in her honour. I unzipped my robe, let it slip off my shoulders, and lifted my heart to the sky. Looking down, I saw my skin glowing. I saw that in this light, I was perfect, and beautiful, a simple child of father universe and mother nature; loved, supported, and enjoyed. I reveled in the beauty of the moon, and she in the beauty of me, and we once again taught each other how loved we are, and how we are physical embodiments of Love Incarnate. I felt renewed in my life desire to bring forth the full acceptance and realization of this to others, just by simple living of this timeless ecstasy, reminding that there is nothing to regret, no way to forsake this truth other than by just forgetting it. Remembrance soaked deep into my being; pure, unadulterated light saturated me to the core. I had forgotten for a long while.

Where I Really Am

A quiet day was full with
wind and warmth and sun.
I was happy and healthy
and though I was working
indoors, behind a counter,
in my mind, I was running
through the grass with my brothers.
My mother was brewing tea,
infusing it with sunlight,
and so it became a beacon
of love and care and refreshment
ready for us when the time came.

In my heart, I was drawing
on the street with chalk of every color.
Friends from all parts
of the neighborhood would be
showing up out of the blue, and
suddenly we would find
ourselves deeply
involved in hop-scotch
until the sun's touch grew long.

In my soul, I was licking nectar
from the spouts of tiny living clover blossoms
picked by my brother's hands.
"This is a really good one," he would say
and hold it out to me as though
it were a chalice of immortality.

Specks of Dust, Moving Away

I see my father standing in the bedroom, it is morning and we have awoken to a bright sunlit day. He leaves the room and I begin making the bed in the way my mother and I always did; tucking in all the corners very carefully and making sure everything is perfectly straight and layered for maximum effect. I am pure love, energy , and happiness; how glorious it is to be me, here, now! The room's windows are in the east, and the light slanting through the white lace curtains turns everything to soft gold, and sparkles of dust float around me. I reach out my hand, pushing and swirling the sparkles. A song comes on the radio which is playing in the bedroom, Born In The U.S.A., and my father comes in and starts singing it, turning the knob for the volume up until the sound fills the room, and it is such a wondrous moment in time, as though perfectly designed for us by the world. He looks at me, picks me up, and we stand together in the light of the sun. He says he is going into the army soon, and I don't quite understand. I do have a sense though, and I feel a sadness which doesn't lessen the wonder of the moment, but takes it to an higher, more complete level.

First Innocence

I remember a beach, playing in the sand with my grandpa; we were having a blast together. The day is overcast, and the lake and the sky are one, insulating, close, and warm. Grandpa and I dig a hole, as deep as I am tall, and the sand keeps raining in the sides... I can talk a little now, and I see a black girl for the first time. I want to touch her. I ask her, why is your skin different from mine, so dark? I innocently wait for her to answer, and I can see that she is wondering the same thing, and she's about to answer me, but then my mom grabs my arm and pulls me aside, apologizing for my question, and the parents of the black girl are saying it's not a problem at all; they smile at me. The black girl looks up at them questioningly, as though wondering, why should that have been a problem? We continue to look at each other longingly as we are pulled farther and farther away from each other.