On the other side of exhaustion,
The grass is green.
On the far side of the mountain that is your tiredness,
The world is green with the rebirth of spring.
The load on your shoulders is laden with the pieces of your life,
Like a bag of rocks rubbed smooth by the many years of jostling together.
So you ascend this mountain with a longing for rest,
For relief.
And you cut through the wild green undergrowth of your life and stumble out violently into the clearing that is your meditation practice.
Like a ledge overlooking the vast desolation of the world beneath.
And you breathe.
The view from here obscured by a thick fog draped like a white cloth over the mountainside.
An angled stone overhead providing some shelter.
Life solitude,
A place to stop and shrug off the weight from your shoulders now.
To find some small promise of ease,
To assess the damage and to rest.
Like a tired bear done with this season of its life.
You set up camp here not by choice or conscious effort but because your body told you to.
To its core it is cold and it is tired.
And winter is coming with it,
Frost and famine.
Where the wild green starves for the sun.
So you crawl your tired bear body into the crevice of these rocks,
Into the dark,
Fully into the dark.
Your body knows dear friend,
Just like the bears,
It knows the weight of you,
It knows the echoes of your heart calling you to rest.
And in this place between heartbeats,
Between breaths,
In the exploded view of your tiredness is a delicate sadness dear friend.
A cold sorrow that aches with years of scarcity coiled up against the frost.
And it has been waiting here for you,
The hollow pain of your heart's starvation.
It has been there for months and would not be satisfied by food,
By drink,
By medicine.
It has been waiting there for you to see,
To gaze into its depths,
This hole that would not be filled with anything but your own love.
Breathe here dear friend and place gently now one hand over your heart,
Because this is the darkness where life begins,
New life.
See now the small sleeping figure that is your heart,
Like a child folded into your arms.
Your warm breath upon its sleeping face,
As you hold them softly against your breast for a moment of comfort.
This child that holds the earth and the sky,
The peaks and the valleys of all human life and it is exquisite in its fragility,
Its tenderness,
Its brokenness.
Your chaste surges with compassion expanding for this child a bright hot light of wanting for its safety,
For some ease to its suffering,
Some relief.
What does it need,
This space that has called for your attention?
And you breathe in listening for its voice,
Echoing through the cavern,
Breathe out warmth and kindness for the resounding desperation that you are facing in this place.
Breathe in hope,
Raw and honest,
Breathe out nurture.
Breathe in and say to the child cradled in your arms,
I am here,
I have always been here.
You are not alone.
I know that you are tired and I give you permission to rest now.
And in this moment,
Pouring love,
A thick healing balm of compassion,
Wholesome and true,
It tastes like home.
And for the first time perhaps you are aware of yourself not only as the child,
Soft and delicate,
But as the elder,
The nurturer,
The comforter that folds the child up in its healing attention.
When did you forget this,
Dear friend?
Where did you lose this version of yourself?
For you are not alone in there.
For you are not alone in there.
No matter the stories you've told yourself,
Convincing you otherwise,
You are never alone and the rest you seek starts here,
In the place where you meet yourself fully,
Where the healing has resided all along.
And soon,
And soon winter passes,
The desperate cold dies down,
The green shoots of spring rising through the frost,
The bear emerging slowly from its slumber,
Edging towards hope,
Light as air,
Opening for a new story to begin.
You know what to do now,
To move forward.
The time has passed for staying small,
Cornered,
Coiled,
Curled tightly like a fist,
White knuckling the winter of your life.
This new softness,
Like an open hand,
Open to receive the nurture that you so urgently needed.
Breathe in,
Opening,
Breathe out,
Fully aware of your body here,
In this room,
In the present moment.
Breathing now,
Both hands slowly up towards your face,
Softly cupping them over your eyes.
Breathe here a moment,
Strong and ready to take this new perspective into the rest of your day and week.
Open your eyes now and bring your hands to heart center,
Palms lightly touching as you bow your head towards your hands and thank yourself for the wise teacher that you are.
I am here and I see you.
Namaste.
