Walk with me in the Grandmother Light.
It's here, on the edge of morning,
when the world of fierce running-after hasn't stirred awake yet.
Step into the breeze -- its embrace freeing, not constricting.
Take in the sight of the swaying branches.
Make note how the only sounds here
are your footsteps
an owl chanting into the spruce wind darkness
a warbler invoking a dawn
that has yet to arrive from over the hillside.
If we allow ourselves time for a slow-down,
for the breath to wash through the body
like a gentle surf moving in and around
the hard rocks inside us
we're brought into close proximity
to the Indwelling Knowing
everyone seems to be yearning for these days.
in between breaths if we're lucky,
we have a true encounter.
Don't turn anything away.
The things that keep you on edge.
The regrets still running wild inside you.
Your deepest of longings you haven't been willing to admit
because it could also mean you'll never see their fruition.
Memories of happenings
that tumbled you forward with gasps of delight.
When you open to the moving ecology within you
and feel the moment when the current shifts from distress to resolve,
it's a day you won't soon forget.
Veils are drawn back.
Membranes that separated
your dreaming and waking worlds
This is how to meet the morning.
This is how to meet each other.
This is how to start a new day.
(c) 2017 / Pure Land Poetry / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com
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