She was the one who was touched by the growing bloom of desire. Each center opened to a presence that moved all through her. It was little more than a wisp, really, like a rising tide of water. Just like that. This touched her at every level of her being. Pulling him close, though he was far from her, she initiated a dance that she was never able to complete perhaps because the prize was just that precious and powerful a thing; fire from heaven.
The truth amongst our kind is that once touched, we are forever changed. We cannot pretend to be the same. We cannot act as though the genie has gone back into the bottle. We try, many times we do, just as she had done, hoping to return to her Kansas and her blissful ignorance. We all do, if the truth is told. We do grow accustomed to it though and in its big roaring realm of a shift it awakens us to deeper truths, and not all of them sit comfortably with us. With such power, with such roaring realms as these, we are ourselves made into instruments of the emanations that is our universe. The Gods and Goddesses speak through our fiber, our bone, our idiosyncracies, our desire, our failings and our triumphs. We face up to the fact that to be spiritual is to be sexual, which is to be creative, which is about begetting both spiritually and physically. We cannot nor will we ever remove ourselves from the truth of this which is that at its core, all of this awakening is creative. She wants to create with him, to feel his words and his presence upon her lips, drawing out of her a consummate creation born of a love that is transcendent….something more than just she and more than just he. Through every center she feels how the truth of this touches her inwardly just as it touches him inwardly. They are carried, touched, enlivened…. by this fire to know how they both share in an inuterable truth about it and each other….Such a truth draws souls together unlike anything else.
People can turn their backs on these things but so strong are these events that they make indelible marks on our lives, our souls, our hearts, and even our bodies. For as much as we seek to seem normal, to fit in, to fly under the radar, we are rendered an exotic forever after and for always. All of the heresies come to live in us all at once, shaking us to that inevitable conclusion that each of us make, which is that the world is both backwards and upside down. …and it has been that was for a long time.
We, even touched as we are by this, remain backwards and upside down creatures until we relearn and allow ourselves to break under the pressure of the great force that is the divine bearing down on us and on the falsehoods of our innermost lives. The difference is that we are pilgrims who travel not without comprehension to the Promised Land but with full realization that we each ARE what was once promised us.
She is the kind who can sense and even smell him before he arrives. Her innermost senses are so enlivened by him that her own senses begin to form a world around him that is made up of him. Something in her is made to know him perhaps as much as he knows himself. It is at this great level of intimacy that she can never again pretend she had not caught glimpse of the bringer of that fire to her frame in this life or that she served as the crucible within which their surrender became the Great Revealer. She knows him and he knows her in a way that defies any idea that we are in any way separate or that the universe itself is not strung together in an incredibly intimate fashion such that no lie about separation can stand long before the roar of this world washes over it and topples it, washing its pieces away as we stand gape-mouthed wondering over what just happened, and also over how we could build such castles to honor the deeper heresy of separation.
And even those who have parted still meet in the breathless silence of their innermost realm at night and between the sentences of spoken words and between the architecture of our thoughts. They are just too large for that not to happen, and we must learn to forgive ourselves if the fire is ever to make any sense to us and not burn us to a crisp in fear or in anger, or in jealousy, or in uncertainty. It is in the in-between that it calls to us and does not care the channel or vessel who carries it. It seems to need us to tell its story, like some wordless presence, like some vivaciously creative mute that is suddenly tired of keeping silent but has no means itself with which to speak or caress or to love the other in the way that we are equipped.
For many, it’s just too much. It’s too much as long as we resist being as big as it is. It’s too much as long as we refuse to stretch into its being and learn to give that higher self a place in our lives. We resist because the higher self is not uncertain but knows…..and we, the children waking up to its presence within us, are limited and do doubt and are afraid that it might mean our end…..even though that never seems to happen.
He can feel how she visits him. It’s often only after she falls completely asleep. Some nights he waits up and others, he slips off into a sleep that contains chapters only the two of them know, but mostly know peripherally or secretly (even when its secret from themselves sometimes). It isn’t always clear, and there isn’t always a narrative to paint the sky so it can be seen, or a room or a sense of place…..because this now belongs to the timelessness that we each touch when our bodies open their eyes and as our mind is dragged along for the ride. He holds his hand up; this is all he needs do to transmit the ripple of pure bliss which penetrates and travels faster than light and ignores the laws of our world because of how it lives and breathes the one Law that has ever really mattered and is the one Law upon which worlds have been built. This Law lives within him and its movement into her is what remains a world of endless pleasure and delight.
This plays out in this way with many today. Married, single, alone but connected….it has taken all of us into its arms regardless of our laws and rules or conventions. It asks us to tell the truth by BEing the truth, and so it changes our lives when this enters them. We are shaken by this and it is hard, but it is like leaving Kansas with no hope of ever returning, perhaps never wanting to return. The genie is out of the bottle and the truth turns in us until we learn to face it more fully each time it swings us ’round in its pulsating dance of both pleasure and becoming. This truth, if ignored comes back around in other years, seasons, and lives. There is all the time in the world and yet, it seems to make us all feel that there is little time left. I think that this is because of how long we have remained ignorant of how much we have lived outside of its Law even as some of us proclaimed to know it intimately. This force does not care about how our lives are composed it seems, and will clear a path in us to see that its will is done. Eventually, the truth catches up with all of us….and until it does, it exerts a steady pressure on each of us until we give way and forgive in order for the resistance to allow flow again. He remains in silence until she acknowledges that nothing has the power to stop this…
Their opposites, both as the Cosmic She and He attract. Karma attracts, that which is left undone attracts. But what is really at the root of our misgivings after all? In each case, it is always something that felt that we did not reach in its fullest apogee for our hearts to feel filled with it. We return to lovers who died too soon for us to play it again just as we turn the wrongs other have done to us into the force that cracks our insides open to reveal the greatest bliss one could ever imagine. In each case, we feel a sense of lack that always has us forever chasing it, forever yearning for it, forever focused on it even if it is done subconsciously. We hide so much from ourselves that our lives do not adequately allow fulfillment for. But how
do we correct for a wish never filled that is now thousands of years old, covered over by ten lifetimes or more? These bones form the substance of our desire in some of this as we wake up…..and there is nothing so compassionate a hope as this; to free ourselves and to know the force of love not as something that we feel FOR someone but a force that we finally ARE.
There are many stories that remain silent and secret but that live vibrantly in the luminous realm. Don’t let its grace pass you by.
Waking The Infinite 