Telling: Streams & Logs


To Remember

She is still and rising at once, both. The still and the flow. She is golden luminous and a cupping darkness, lapping, cavernous. Illumination and mystery, both. She sees me.

I come here to remember. 

I look at her, and seeing, find the length of my own spine, lift of my palms, the flow through. What I see in her is found in me by the seeing. I am a mirror wanting always to reflect her. When she looks into me, I find myself alight.

I come. I present myself. I am so grateful.

I can come here, like this, look to her to reseat myself in myself, any time. Stop. Breathe. Turn my face to the Wellspring. The luminous. The small sound of water falling back to water.

Today she shows me this:

This looking is non-exclusive. This recognition of light. What I see in her, what she sees in me, is there in everything, each of us, for the looking.