Sophia: Float #2

new moon, solar eclipse, Dalai Lama visitation, beloved’s birthday

Time disappeared over and over in this one. The veil of the brain is thin and clear- one can open its membranes at will, porous to a new experience. Relaxing what feels like innermost fascia allows the oscillating visions to seep through immediately, before the thinking mind wrenches back control of the imposed structure of the experience.

I went in asking to be shown the dance I already have within me. It is a simple dance, one of birth, of reenacting evolution, and the very building blocks of movement- how a baby naturally would learn to stand (accelerated) if placed on their back. But standing itself is too complex, or superfluous for now. The body becomes vast. Curling into myself, it seems an interminable distance before my elbow touches my knees. I feel the micro adjustments of deep muscles as I curl and let go, exploring flexion like a new mermaid understanding her place in the sea of things.

The urge to narrate my experience while I’m in it is intense. The judge, the separator. The director. The one who sees- how to see without being separate? Expand the vantage point. There are infinite ways the body can relax into an experience of source.

I feel I am finally coming into a true experience of myself, if such a thing is possible. Releasing the grip of old judgment, thick layers painted over the tool of the body, the natural tool. There’s nothing to judge, it’s what we’re given. Lately as I am conscious of letting go, I feel more and more the fluid in my body, and I thank the flow of the water for sustaining me and changing me. Of course we’re not separate from the wet earth body of the mother.

My dance wants to be in water, following the desires of the body, barely slipping over into visual manifestation. Perhaps splicing over into a standing dance, translating the fluid silence into the mess of the world. Shot at… an intersection of overpasses? Circling me with a wide angle lens? Or under the bridge on the Springwater Corridor. I open up to the possibility- the actuality- of my vision becoming enacted.

Something in there about my car accident.

Before rising, after dancing freedly with the ending music, I prayed and gave thanks to the void and the great mysterious creator. Eyes closed, the blue light shimmered a new existence, but a black hole center remained.

I know I will experience pain again- even in this moment. But I am grateful for this opportunity to recognize, release, and relieve my suffering- and thereby, in some fashion, the suffering of all sentient beings.

Today at the Dalai Lama’s talk, a beautiful Tibetan man in colorful robes sang spirit in front of us- and then asked us to sing Om Mani Padme Hum with him, over and over as people continued to file in and HH’s presence became more and more felt in its glowing radiance from backstage. 4,000 of us sang together, from robed lamas to my left in saffron and gold to the drab blue-grey cloth of the nuns and the western hybrid costumes throughout. We generated a kind of collective hum, in sync, so gentle- I imagine the venue glowing a bit from the outside, radiating something into the city beyond. A drum line led by a chief elder followed, and HH slipped onstage while they continue in fierce concentration their wailing. He walked slowly behind them with a look of glee on his face that they did not notice. At the end of the line he stepped forward and mimicked the rhythm of their swinging hands, then sat down in his low chair behind them, equipped with his purple visor to shield the light.

The physical pain returns to my hip soon after I reintroduce gravity to my body, but I don’t give it too much energy. I am whole.

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