How does it feel?
Like walking on a trampoline.
Like living at the North Pole with Santa and the elves only it is warm, and yet, the ice caps are firm, and thick, and not melting.
Like flying a hang-glider and landing easily and standing up, like a graceful bird.
Like being free to walk on the sand on the beach.
Like being a sandwich wrapped lightly in paper to be carried to a delightful picnic spot.
Warm and cuddly. I feel lifted, enveloped, cared for.
My brother informs me Stanley Kunitz died. He was 100, and still his passing feels like a loss, and yet, we have his words.
I take this from the Washington Post article by Adam Bernstein.
"Thematically, he spoke of rebirths and questing. He was fascinated by the ongoing tussle between life and death. "The deepest thing I know is that I am living and dying at once, and my conviction is to report that dialogue," he once said. "It is a rather terrifying thought that is at the root of much of my poetry.""
For just a moment, the sky opens, and I see the moon. It's like that, isn't it, light and dark, life and death? I accept that "I am living and dying at once," and, in this moment, I am lifted in the holy arms of life like a baby, and kissed. Ah, there it is again, the luminous moon. This morning it reminds me of earth. The fog is swirling around it, so it looks like it has water, and in my eyes, it does. I moisten the moon with the water from my eyes, and again it is gone. Peek a boo!! Hide and Seek!