Enter here and lose everything. What sort of invitation is this? Who would be foolish enough to consciously choose to be taken apart by love? The loss of my reference points; of my spiritual accomplishments; of the strategies that have allowed me to hide out from the fires of intimacy; of the so many ways to protect this tender heart from breaking all the way open.
As these infinite cycles of death and rebirth play out, as love forever and into eternity takes shape as this human body… a call from beyond makes its away over the thundering silence… the tea pot is boiling… the matcha is ready. Behold this cup of tea, the light shining off the trees as the snow falls while the sun is out at the same time, the first signs of spring in the mountains, the unidentifiable smells coming from the neighbor’s house, the sometimes disturbing clanging of the wind chimes, the baby across the street who is screaming to be held, the tingling in the fingers from a life of so much typing, the remembrance of the day’s to-do list, the reminder of all of the responsibilities of this life. All of these appearances, like echoes, like mirages, like rainbows… translucent, luminous, very real, ever-precious reminders of the only response to this life which makes any sense: that of deep gratitude. Things here are not what they seem.