Tuesday, April 21, 2020

Plague Poems: No Guarantees

This morning, I pulled this SoulCollage® card:



This is one of two cards I have made that I have called Maya.  When I received the name Maya almost 50 years ago now, I was told the translation from the Sanskrit is: the creative principle of the universe.  Most people have heard it translated as illusion.  You can think of this world that way, but it has always made more and deeper sense to me to to see it as consciousness being made manifest.  In any case, it's been a large name to carry.

Based on pulling this card, today, this is the poem that came.

There never was a guarantee,
only a whirling into the life
of the body, a knowing
of the importance of
lifting up the arms to touch
the sacred, the instinct
to wear red as a sign
of commitment
to life.

There never were promises
of ease, of safety, of knowledge.
Only the mystery was ever given,
and a certain useless compulsion
to understand.
There is absolutely no knowing.
There is only the breath, the dance,
the earth and this constant spinning.
Life has always provided
what I have needed.
That is the foundation for trust,
for keeping the arms raised,
for continuing to turn.


I am wearing red today.

No comments:

Post a Comment