Monday, April 21, 2014

You can never be re-born until you allow yourself to die first

In each moment the beloved is evoking the sacred archetypal process of death and rebirth within you. With each breath, something in you is dying—everything you thought you were, everything you thought you knew about love, about intimacy, about what you needed, about what was important. Yes, something is dying—everything that is false and less than whole within you. This is a blessed death.

In the face of such transition—which is the luminous essence of the ancient path of the heart—the habitual tendency is to urgently rush to re-birth, scramble to the light, retreat to the known, and cut into the primordial nature of groundlessness. Everything is falling apart, and you want to put it back together. This is so natural. 

But, friend, please don't abandon death, in your rush to be re-born. You need not reassemble the known for you were never together to begin with. What you are is beyond that which comes and goes. You are the radiant field in which death and re-birth dance together in wild, naked union. 

Go slow. Pay careful attention. Honor what is dying within you. Know that what is real will never die. Love is everything and is here. The aliveness pouring out of this death is brighter than a billion suns. 

I know it is tempting at times to wait for grace to come, to wait for your sadness to yield to joy, and for your hopelessness to give way to hope. But before you abandon these ones, please hold them close, and mine the riches that they contain, and the wisdom of the raging somatic world. 

Please know that grace could never, ever come in the future, and is not coming around the corner. It is here now. It is pouring out of your very own heart and dripping out of the moon, the stars, and the sky above. But you can never be re-born until you allow yourself to die first.

Photo credit: Shades of morning over Mount Hood, moonset and wildflowers from Washington's Columbia Hills, the exquisite work of Marc Adamus