Disappearing and Being Born

Sunrise on the Art Farm

Letter to One in the Near Future:

If I had a time capsule I'd send you the sky. If I could include you in this moment, I'd send you the heady spring sky. I'd send you the air spiraling with bird song and sweet pollen and wild whispery clouds. I'd send you the cool exhale of the garden lifting flowers in the orchard. I'd send you the blue borne breeze as it swirled and spun the new born grasses in the pasture. I'd send you the hint of loss and life, death and desire, wrapped in an aging man's hands lifting up the sun.

Can you stay awhile with me, friend? I'm not so far away now. Feel the wind where you are. Know the thoughts of the dirt. Catch the flickering magic of a black spun wing in the periphery of your dreaming. Be here.

How good it is to breathe, to be alive! Painful, agonizing even, but all gold. All, love of the trinity: Sun, Moon and Earth. Holy, the Triple Spiral, the vortex of wonder, the funneling passion of passing tides in the field that sings your true name.

You are alive if you are reading this. Dive into your experience. Unplug. Be still. It only takes a moment to be real. And in a moment more, you will be gone.

I see you. I hear you. I dance you.

Today I walk with the dearly departed on one side and dearly living on the other. With me, in-between worlds. I am disappearing and being born at the same time. Would you like to walk with me awhile, friend?

Love,
Rick

(c) Copyright (Image and Text) Richard Sievers, March 2014, All Rights Reserved