I think it is a coming within to an honoring such that this morning I rose and couldn't eat my morning oatmeal at the computer. I lit a candle shaped like a heart, and sat on the couch looking out at the ridge and light. I ate, aware, full, grateful. Perhaps it is about gratitude, gratitude for breath, and feeling the earth and touching the sky. It is visceral, vibratory, connection.
I think something is changed neurologically. I feel vibration. I feel awake. Awake. Does that word convey anything to you? A woman I love and care for deeply, Vanessa Meade, lives in Alaska. She says the sensory awareness practice has saved her life, saved her from "being dead in living". Though young, she has served our country in war. She knows war personally in a way I hope I never do. Tears come.
I had written her about a statement she made while leading a workshop in Barra de Navidad, Mexico. I wasn't there so was listening to a recording. I loved it when she spoke of the wake of a teacher, as the group she was leading looked into the water of a swimming pool.
When I asked how the thought came to her she wrote to me:
The wake of an unseen teacher is an Inupiat custom up here where the first salmon to surface in the river that is seen by a father and son...is called the wake of an unseen teacher. They say that if the son goes out into the river and drinks from that place where it surfaced, he will have the wisdom of the salmon in his belly. The salmon bring back the wisdom of all their travels and the mountains when they return. It came to me as I saw the ripples on the water as I was leading that day.
This morning I opened to this Death Poem by Kiba who died in 1868 at the age of ninety.
My old body:
a drop of dew grown
heavy at the leaf tip
What I feel today is:
My young body:
gratefully new, leaf full,
wisdom of the salmon
and blissed touch of dew,
held and carried, nourished
all the way through.