Journal of Sacred Work

The earth has disappeared beneath my feet,
   It fled from all my ecstasy
Hafiz (1320-1389)

       In meditation, some contemplate an image. Others seek to become that image for awhile.   Meditation, of course, is not about trying. Yet the introduction of particular images, in this case images of things coming to rest: a parachute; a child beneath sheets that become descending clouds; are offered to help caregivers down the path to their own moments of rest and healing.
      

I hope these words will help you to become a parachute landing in a meadow, a child lying beneath  sheets that flutter down on you soft as clouds.

Wherever you are right now, I offer you the blessings of healing love.

…

Parachute

We must always keep our souls ajar

ready for the ecstatic experience.

– Emily Dickinson

I am

a parachute,

taut, tight-bonneted,

hard at work, tensed

until

I reach a meadow

where I settle,

tight strings turning tender

as skin wrinkles

over clover, dandelions,

a fuzz of fine grass.

As a child, I lay on my bed while

mother fluttered just-cleaned

sheets so that they fell like clouds

draping my waiting shape.

The air falls still. This is the settling,

the letting go,

the unfolding in the field

where fatigue finds respite.

The face softens,

the heart’s doors slip open for the guest

that’s needed now: silence, the soul ajar

awaiting her ecstasy, her rest,

her soft yes.