Hidden In Plain Site #73

Grace hidden yet always in plain site.  It is the friction, the rub of life that removes the tarnish and reveals the luster of every moment.  Dull and heavy, I sink.  I break down in tears.  But I am not lost.  Yes, sink deep, permit rest in silent harmony.  Oh how grateful I am for my meditation practice and the knowledge that supports what is happening in the space of my being! 

March 21, 2019
Moving on.  The last night in this house.  I cannot close my eyes for want of drinking in what I created with so much love, care and devotion; where family gathered and students fed;  where practice flourished and study deepened.
 
This one hurts.  It is 4 am and I have been up since 2 wandering around looking at how the moonlight falls on the fireplace, how she caresses the now empty spaces.  

Empty and yet so full.  I know I will create anew.  I know life moves on.  I know practice will continue to flourish and study deepen and family will always be, but the shape changes. 
Dissolution is another name for destruction.  Its kinder cousin lending some softness to the blow but a blow it remains.  This one hurts.
 
Oh there is so much to learn about the skillful dancing of life’s rhythms.  Nataraja bangs on his damaru but I am no Pinocchio.  I will not be tied to invisible strings.  Yet I am not the  choreographer. 

Enough.  Sweet śakti bless a few hours of sleep before the last day in this configuration begins.                                                                                                                          

March 25, 2019
Landing. The first day in Seattle. Safely traveled 2992 miles with Karma at our feet in first class.  If one needs to leave a beloved home, then traveling first class with a puppy of love is the way to go.  She brought so much joy to travelers in the airport and was so good on the plane, sitting alert and patient.  This change has long been in the making yet not quite revealed.  Now we rest once again in the middle, in temporary housing, things in storage, searching for home.  Home. 

Home.  Yes I do know true home exists behind my eyes and am so very grateful even as I yearn for a space that permits life to grow exponentially on the outward plane.  My fervent prayer, abundance, clarity and service. Listen.  Prayer is speaking to a higher wisdom.  Meditation is listening.  It begins. Or more accurately shifts, morphs once more.  This is the tender, intimate dance of sṛṣṭi, creation and sthiti, maintenance.  Again and again the next picture is revealed, perhaps looking the same but look closer, it is slightly altered.  How can I participate joyful, efficaciously in its movement directing revelation before saṃhāra calls again?  This is what permits concealment to unfold into full revelation.  So many levels.  Grace is hidden yet always in plain site. 
Good morning Seattle.  Reveal yourself.