in my recent meditations, i travelled. i gathered speed at a dizzying rate, heard the deafening rush of blood in my veins and wind in my ears, before finally feeling my inner body twist as it squeezed itself through the smallest point of light. an inhale and an exhale. and then silence.
#meditation #binakul
"I hope the next occupants treat her warmly, that they bask in her sunset hour beauty as I have countless times while laying on the kitchen floor.
Perhaps I am just so sentimental to hope that this home will fill another as it has filled us. But I know it is not just the trees, me, or the creatures of this world that know what life feels like. Not just me that knows how it is to open a window & feel a cool breeze rush in.
When we arrived, it held us & I know when we go, as we say goodbye to it, the space will continue to hold us & offer itself as home the only way it knows how: fully, unconditionally, lovingly, & until the very last moment. For that, I am grateful."
"I haven't been able to speak or even write of it as plainly as I do now. I haven't so much as explored myself, given tribute and prayer and reverence to my valleys before people have come into those spaces to plunder and ruin them, sometimes with invitation because I thought that they would treat my body as if it is a beautiful, strange terrain worth mapping and knowing fully. Â
What do I do with my garden filled with flowers and strange fruits? It has become unruly and its fingers have already made their way into the edges of surrounding forests, the ecosystems bleeding into each other until I can no longer discern what took root where. I fear I do not have resources to care for this expansive garden even though it has so much bounty. Some things must wilt and die as things in nature oft do. I mourn the lost time I could've spent exploring and tending to these inner spaces, I celebrate the time I have left to do the same now that I am aware."
