The Trembling Knowing of Unknown
. . . .
Perched up high in the Blue Ridge mountains,
holding space and being,
witnessing as living love mourns passing life, grieving death's finality,
I had a night of wailing.
It moved me so intensely... so powerfully forcing through my system. I had never truly experienced wailing until that moment. And in that moment, I recognized it as an ancient thread in my lineage... wailing women... open vessels through which passes such pure and raw intensity, traveling the currents of emotion, yet not belonging to the messenger. I did not experience this to be mine personally but I personally was enveloped in the experiencing... and watching it... and moments of doubt, wondering if I was loosing my mind, going crazy, and knowing I was and I wasn't. Desiring confirmation. Appreciating its absence.
. . . .
The Puget Sound meets the coast, and perched upon a rock, tangled in a tree's roots, walking the earth, feeling the waves, watching reflections of water and shadow I enter into another's story that rubs close to my heart.
In my understanding of what I read and experienced, I felt my feeling-being touch that place of wailing. I did not have to feel it so intensely tremble through me, but I recognized that the chord which had been struck connected to that harmony. I sat with it. Breathing. Listening. Holding a heart of compassion. Accepting, trusting and also wondering what might be mine.
. . . .
Perched up high in the Blue Ridge mountains,
holding space and being,
witnessing as living love mourns passing life, grieving death's finality,
I had a night of wailing.
It moved me so intensely... so powerfully forcing through my system. I had never truly experienced wailing until that moment. And in that moment, I recognized it as an ancient thread in my lineage... wailing women... open vessels through which passes such pure and raw intensity, traveling the currents of emotion, yet not belonging to the messenger. I did not experience this to be mine personally but I personally was enveloped in the experiencing... and watching it... and moments of doubt, wondering if I was loosing my mind, going crazy, and knowing I was and I wasn't. Desiring confirmation. Appreciating its absence.
. . . .
The Puget Sound meets the coast, and perched upon a rock, tangled in a tree's roots, walking the earth, feeling the waves, watching reflections of water and shadow I enter into another's story that rubs close to my heart.
In my understanding of what I read and experienced, I felt my feeling-being touch that place of wailing. I did not have to feel it so intensely tremble through me, but I recognized that the chord which had been struck connected to that harmony. I sat with it. Breathing. Listening. Holding a heart of compassion. Accepting, trusting and also wondering what might be mine.
. . . .
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