graying the waters
spilling life upon life upon death into the infinity,
beyond all that is and all that is not
toward a greater endlessness, beyond light beyond dark
i open that gate and wander wonder and speak wordlessly at the awesome deep deep gray.
Yesterday and the yesterday before:
Because mankle is still healing our Rumi study group met here at our home. It's usually held at Kate’s, Crestone's Sufi teacher and practitioner, and I was honored that the group kindly afforded me one less excursion out of the house. I like going out - and I like staying in because much physical effort is endured by me each time I venture away from home during this healing process. I do a funny butt walk up and down the steps, need assistance with the wheelchair in and out of the studio door to the car, and then whomever is giving me a ride must put the chair in and out each time we go into a building. And I feel alive every time I am out, the air is clear and it helps my ruminating mind to be still breathing. Also, each evening when I sungaze I am guided by this same stillness. And bright light!! Anyway, about 8 or 9 people were here. We are exploring the Mathnawi of Jalaluddin Rumi, volumes1-2. First we do a 20 minute silent meditation and then proceed to reading aloud. It s a bit academic when I read the work solo - it is a new language I never heard or read before, like the first time one reads Shakespeare or hears opera. But when reading with the group it is enlightening and exotic. Yesterday we read a story entitled Another Jewish King. One passage: “To those who know God, the wind of death is soft and pleasant as the breeze......” when we read, we often stop to reflect on personal and academic meanderings. At the end of this passage Rumi alludes to Mount Sinai. I gasped. Rumi spoke of one of my experiences with death! Many of his words are metaphor, death is not necessarily an exact end or passing.
My second experience with death: I am in a hospital, it is Mt. Sinai in New York City, it is December, I am comforted, or terrified, by the doctors that I may die, and that they hope to save my life. The room I live in for 2 months is a corner room overlooking Central Park. One would pay $900 a night for this view at such a Madison Avenue address as this if they were touristing and sleeping in a hotel, but I am sure that to be here in hospital costs much more!! I notice before the surgery that this view is gorgeous!! It is is Christmas Eve and so the hospital is quieter and less busy than usual, only emergency patients fill the rooms. I just had major surgery to “save my left leg and foot and life”, I am vomiting and holding emptiness, I am on a bed, my neck is connected to many tubes, I am in and out of consciousness, I hear a violent wind through a low breathing. It is like sirens screaming, hellish, crushing, and then I hear silence because I am no longer aware awake conscious. Then I hear wind again, louder and shrill. Then some morphine takes hold and I sleep. I awake in morning light peering through corner windows aglow with whiteness reflected from all the snow that had fallen in the winter wonderland park, and I hear a new wind – this time it is gentle like a flute song especially composed for my ears. Charming, new singing. I have no more fear, I have become accepting. I have learned this wind song at Mt. Sinai. Lucky me, that was my first lesson in wind-song!
The day before the day before: an homage to Dr. Carissa Tripi.
the lovely good doctor as Wind, brushing against each other as she tends.
a gentle quiet shweee that has come to remind us to have no fear of fear anymore.
we go back to memory that has been our story,
an unheard song, a bluster of flute.