Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy


I feel delicate and touched this morning, my heart an opening swirl.   Karen Roeper is giving Jane and me an Essential Motion session today as a way to re-connect as Jane is returned from her trip and as a way to discover and feel what this year has meant to the two of us and how we are changed.  Just thinking about what this year has meant, now more than a year and all the gifts, moistens my heart.  I am deeply grateful for the arc of my life.  I have met new people and become closer to those I knew before.  I have a warm quilt I wrap in each night.  A lavendar shawl encloses my shoulders.  I am embraced, grateful, wrapped in jewels.  My driftwood whale rests nearby. 

I open a book, one of the ones in a basket in the bathroom.  This one is called Jasmine Nights & Monkey Pluck: Love, Discovery, and Tea.

I open to this poem next to a photograph of the Pagoda teapot described.

A Story from the Pagoda Teapot

The tea leaves are dreaming.  They cry out in their sleep, "How many centuries have we waited here in the darkness?"

The Tea-maker responds, "I brought you here just moments ago."

"Impossible," they say.  "We remember nothing of where we were before.  And it's too dark to see where we are now."

"You grew between earth and sky," says the Tea-maker,  " and you baked in the sun.  Now you are inside a rust-colored teapot.  Its top is shaped like a pagoda.  Its spout is curved and has a finger pointing inward at itself.  In form, it is quite beautiful and there is no other teapot like it.  In substance, it is no different than you or anything else.  And soon - "

But the tea leaves miss the Tea-makers next words, because they begin to argue.  Some argue that the form is the most important; and among these, some say the pagoda, some the spout, and others the pointing finger.  They draw pictures of the un-remembered shapes and use them as clubs and shields.

Some say the form matters not at all, only the substance. And among these, many sit and cry in frustration because they cannot see how the substance of tiny green leaves can be "no different than" a solid teapot wall.

At last they grow tired of arguing.  One by one, they say, "After all, we know nothing," and grow quiet.  They call out to the Tea-maker in one voice, "We want to change."

The Tea-maker speaks as if there had been no interrruption.  "Soon, I will pour water over you and you will be One.  Then you will become greater than you were, and you will be poured into a cup to nourish the Beloved."

If you want to approach this teapot now, be warned that to hear even one note of a song of such melting ecstasy as these leaves are singing could shatter your heart beyond repair.

                Laura Bulkin


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