i saw the timeworn tumbled stones of a great temple where once the mother goddess prevailed in peaceful times long gone. the mountain had another name then. we all had truer names & spoke in warm clear vowels that blessed the trees leaning toward us in the sweet communion of celebration. now our names are clipped short & our words clash & clatter sharp against the stone, like bullets ricochetting upon the broken temple walls. the stones weep. i hear them late at night when the owls call into the darkness that has crept across the land & over our minds. this night we lean toward the promise of dawn, toward the morning song of the wood thrush. the hands of the heart reach out in tender supplication. like the old scattered temple stones, we wait for another era, a coming time, a milder season, & we give new names of soft syllables to the old things. we lift our hopeful eyes to the mountain top & the sky & sing. we sing. can You hear us, Shiva? we will not stop our singing, we will not close up our throats again, but loud & strong we will ever sing of beauty & wholeness that never ceases pushing toward the light. hear us, Shiva! we call You now, laying out the breadcrumbs of our invocation, lighting the path with our love & urgent need as we voice our song. the mountain calls out through us to You, Shiva, offering itself as Your temple in these times that beg our response. we will build a new temple from these tumbled mother-stones & sing in calm flowing syllables nestled in silence.
i am a stone at the bottom of the cascading stream, smoothed by its invisible elemental cool fingers. i am the sky in the water, the water in the sky, the many in the one & the one within the many. i am the music of the water splashing & tumbling over the shoulders of the bowing hills, & rejoicing. i am speech & the subtle space between the streaming words. i am the silence & the fragrance of the peaceful heart. i am an expression of You, Shiva, discovering again my personal absence in Your holy presence.
today is broken glass, sharp edges, crippled promises, missed deadlines & forgotten friendliness. a lost child cries quietly, alone in a dim locked room in an attic. Shiva! You bring me the circumstances of these jagged hungry-ghost feelings to help me discover that they do indeed pass & do change & are not who i really am. Shiva, You keep breaking me open so i can discern the truth of my existence, or perhaps so i can find the pearl inside, made from the good intentions of others, imposed upon the soft tender innocence deep within. that pearl is not mine, nor do i claim it or desire it. it is Yours. only You can transform what the beauty hides. Shiva, i will cleave to You with unrelenting firmness as we resolve into the same essential beingness. here the wave of me merges into the ocean of You: here there is no broken glass, no lost child, not even words.
we are at work in the mines of maya, clearing & refining, opening space for light to shine. we need that light in this mine. that which is dark & jagged, we polish, smooth & purify. we ourselves are being refined in this manner by the gods who, in their turn, are also being refined & clarified for the refulgence of light, the renewal we want to feel. oh how we fly when we can & how we crawl when we must! the dense events of life can weigh us down with added gravity & subsequent immobility. we are at work in the mines of maya, cleaning, digging out the darkness to find the subtle veins of light concealed in all things, yet accessible. light is hidden everywhere, Shiva, for You gave us this gift: the light that calls us home, the yearning in our hearts for Your grace.
Your code is prime in my DNA, Shiva. All else is inscribed upon Your fundamental code within the very genes of this holy organism, from bones to brain. thus nothing can penetrate beyond the superficial surface because in the final reckoning, You stand guard. i am Yours alone, regardless of who claims me, Shiva. only Your code can open the hidden door of my heart.