Holy Breath Holy Memory Holy Life

Mt. Shasta Cedar Grove... A Holy Place

Having a new experience with children has caused me to think about developmental stages. I've been curious about the range of actions and motivations as kids grow through their early lives. It struck me today that adults continue to develop too.

As I near fifty I am beginning to feel a fullness of experience. I am seeing how memories and recollections can metabolize into my very cells. The places that I consider pivotal and sacred are becoming a part of me. I think that one of the jobs of early eldership is to allow the metaphor and the experiences to grow richer and deeper. I notice that the kids I love are going through stages of knowing what the basic truths are about their lives. But inside them there is much insecurity.

As I get older I see that I really don't know much. I'm being chiseled down into a more fluid shape just as I am expanding in my soul and mind.

My yoga teacher has a quizzical saying when she is centering and stilling herself. When she loses herself to spinning thoughts she chirps in a childlike voice... "Hmm, that is not my breath." And she follows her breath again.

I'm not very good at stilling my mind or my body. However I feel a distilling process is happening within me now. I am being winnowed down into more basic elements.

When I am physically still, memories come up in me like bubbles from the floor of the ocean. I witness them floating up. I breathe in and out. As a recollection of a place or interaction with another being rises to the surface I think to myself: "Hmmm... is that love?" When I just let the memory move through me I almost always hear a reply..."Yes that was love. Yes, that is love!"

When I am still, a part of me rests in the grove of the holy world, where we are... a world so rich with beauty and terror. I feel a part of me becoming the song of the universe. And I feel another part of me being chipped away into something more.

Holy, holy is our one life on Earth.
Holy, holy the paths that choose us.
Holy, the song that remains in the silence.

Holy, holy
Each moment is forever...

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