One More Lesson in Letting Go

Posted by on 04.09.10 | 1 Comment
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Before We Can Unlearn

At this moment, you are seamlessly flowingwith the cosmos. There is no difference between your breathing and the breathing of the rain forest, between your bloodstream and the world’s rivers, between your bones and the cliffs of Dover. … The Universe thinks and worksthrough you.Deepak Chopra

So far it’s the physical world that we speak of:

the red Frisbee, the sweet blackberry, the small pink ball.

She points to a tree. This, she says. Tree. I say. Well,

lilac bush. Already the world slips from its chain of syllables.

I want to speak with her about the filtered honey light

of a late April afternoon, and I do, but she brings me

a rock and says, This.And I say, Rock. Gray rock.

And even more, I want to speak of what comes next,

of the longing that the light begets—how it rouses in me

a deep wish to lose the physical world and be current,

be wave, be invisible flourish, to be warmth that drives flowers

to bloom. I want to tell her how sometimes the body

interferes, so material, so fleshsome, so brute in its hungers.

How beyond the red Frisbee there’s a pulse, a rhythm,

atide that no words can touch, and it gathers us and connects

us to all that is: one cosmos, one bloodstream, one river,

one art. How sometimes we get it—whatever it is—and all

that is concrete dissolves in the breath. How we’re twined

to this moment, and the next, and the next. Nest, I say,

as she brings me the small wreath of grass. Bird, I say,

as the small body wings past. She smiles and tries to fly—

half jump, half fall, all innocence. Yes, I say. That’s what

love is like. Oh golden light.Oh luminous task of losing

whatever we think we know. Tree. Rock. Nest.

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