The Road of Beads

My finger travels the road of beads, each repetition of our song another bead, another step, another heartbeat, as I wander deeper and deeper into trance, into the magic of this particular place, with each of these particular people. This moment will never exist again. It is as fleeting as it is eternal. The drums have usurped my feet, which now step a heartbeat, each beat punctuated by
foot
resonating on earth,
bells
jingling on ankles.

I occasionally am drawn out a bit, lured back into the world to glance at friends, to reassure them in their pain. The wailing and sobbing of a friend is a hard thing to bear witness to, but I let it fade. More beads, more footsteps. I fade to black. My voice follows the song, it is as involuntary as the metronome my feet have become. In a moment, it stops. Everything. It all stops. The world drops away suddenly, as if I had just dunked my head into an icy stream, and
I am baptized by stillness.

Exhale.
I am here,
I am nowhere,
I am somewhere,
I am everywhere,
I am here.

Inhale.
I straighten,
Taller than I have thought to stand before.
I profoundly own my height,
my power.
I am here.
I have arrived.
I am here.
I am in my power.

I open my eyes and see these people. I see them. I see each of their glorious faces, lit orange by fire glow, ecstatic in song, lost in their own deepness. I see them, these glorious strangers who have bared themselves, revealed their wounds, shared their joys in the safety of this container of acceptance. I see them, and my heart erupts with compassion. I see each of them. They are each beautiful. I gaze at them one by one and stare in glorious amazement. I just look and look, awed by each of their divine beauties. There are some who meet my eyes, and I watch them register the intensity, the truth, their truth. They look away, and then return wide-eyed.
I smile.
I see you, and you are so beautiful.

I look again and again, face after face, I meet eyes and smile. They smile back. I love each of these faces unconditionally. I am so happy that each of them is here, and breathing, and smiling. I find myself holding a posture of pouring out. I remember to refill my vessel, and come to a place of holding that vessel upright. I pour it out, giving back this love, and then refill again.
There is no limit to the water in this stream.

I stand solid in my compassion. I embody it, and it embodies me. The drumming shifts and stops. The time for secrets is now. I gaze at the fire and see two perfect eyes, with a fire in each one, and seated yogis at the brow.
Fire and stillness.

I send compassion out into this world,
bolstered by the power and beauty of all of these glorious people.

I heal my mother.
I heal my earth.
I heal myself.
Thank you.

Mendocino California
July 5, 2008