With Good Wishes for DL

We walk on frosted ground praising chrysanthemums bordering fields; sit on the edge of the woods waiting for the moon to rise. Not having to be alone is happiness; we do not talk of failure or success.

-Chia Tao, "When I Find You Again, It Will Be In Mountains"

We sit on the edge of Gustav, just close enough to earn a ground painting of a gray-blue palette and high winds. As if we needed reminders, in case there was any doubt. The news is deep in constant coverage and the intertwine of politics with real life. Before we knew it, the race is on...and 60+ days decides a lot of things for all of us.

I adore the nuances of communication. I love the projections, belief systems at war, perceived insults and injuries, demonstrations of altruism, heroism, nationalism. We are a species perpetually hooked on the juice of conflict; we move forward only because we have to...our resistance to change is legendary and our marriage to 3 dimensional reality obsessive in it's narrow commitment. We need the drama. It pushes us to change. To react and respond and ultimately, best way we can, adapt.

Once in a while, we transcend the limitations of our vision and step outside the room in our head that we thought contained it all. And lo and behold there are more rooms and functionalities, more potential for plot and backdrop and outcomes. Which door will you move through? and what room awaits? Or is it a wide sky behind mountains which peak in snow, is it open forums laid out on the mountain tops where guilds of speakers meet and compare their notes? Is it long and lonely forest paths which preserve your solitude? Is it that, is it all really here?

It saves me to exist in many places. To know my life is also somewhere outside this room. It assures me that influences are at work on bigger and bigger lotus flowers on the palms of buddhas who stack the universe with their mona lisa smiles. And that without doubt, silver cords reach through each one to me and beyond in the web of our deep love. We are penetrated, don't forget. We are not dense like rock; we are forgiving, like the winds.